Tonight I cried like a little bitch while watching Grey's Anatomy online. I wouldn't beat myself up about it if I'd cried about the 31 year old dying caner patient with an engagement ring for his girlfriend at home in his mouth guard box, or about Meredith having to give her estranged father a piece of her liver so he could stop vomiting blood on the emergency room floor. That I could have lived with. But I'm me, and I have a tendency to spontaneously burst into tears about shit no one else on earth would even think was sad. Like the closing scene of Steve Martin's "Shopgirl" or the song "Mint Car" by the Cure. I see something on TV and somehow it completely reinvents how I feel about some other event going on in my life. That's how it was tonight-classic bullshit.
What happened was very simple. Meredith was being prepped for the vomit stopping-daughter to daddy liver donation, and her brand new post-it husband McDreamy insisted that Bailey allow him to sit by her side during the surgery. Being Bailey, she hemed and hawed about it being her OR. And then McDreamy said "Well this is my wife". That's all it took. Total bullshit. I set a land speed record from "all set" to "there's a tear in my beer".
This is why. It probably didn't escape anyone's attention that I mentioned being in a relationship with a married man. Well, lest you thing I'm a home-wrecking, wife stealing turbo whore, there are a few things I should clear up. These are in no particular order. 1)I love him. B)I think he loves me back *)He didn't tell me he was married till later 5)HIS WIFE HAS KNOWN THE WHOLE TIME AND HAS BEEN SEEING SOMEONE ELSE SINCE THREE MONTHS BEFORE HE AND I MET. Oh ha, ain't that funny. Those were in order of importance. Ascending order. Isn't that ironic. Oh wait, this is me. Isn't that predictable. ANYWAY...
I don't want to get into the specifics because we'd be here all night. I will say that we have been seeing each other for seven fun filled months of good times wrought with melodrama. I should mention we broke up once, because even though we got back together, there was an change of terms after our reconciliation that should have had even me screaming for the hills. At the beginning, there was a possibility. It was one in a million, and I pretended to everyone I met including the voices in my head that I wasn't even entertaining the notion. But still, it was there. The chance that he would love me, and it would be enough to make all the shit he'd have to go through to work that out happen. After the breakup he made it clear that he no longer had any intention of leaving his wife. That was it. Status quo. Until whatever. The sick part is I took him back because I was still in painful denial about what my real hopes for the two of us had been. It took Patrick fucking Dempsey calling Botox-faced Meredith Grey his wife for me to pony up and sit down with the awful truth. I remembered season two back before the show was a total train wreck (and also back before the show WITH the total train wreck), where Meredith begged Derrick to "pick me, want me, love me". But he didn't. He chose his wife. But since it was TV that decision only lasted until Addison got more popular and sympathetic than the writing staff must have intended, so they decided to solve the problem by giving Addison her own horrible spin off. Worked out well for Meredith. The rub is that this man's wife has been offered spin off options-but she keeps turning them down. Her rich lover? Bahh. Nursing school? Fuck that. She's here to stay. And I'm here to stay. And Jeff will never call me his wife. And that's sad. Deep breath. Crap, its kind of nice to validate it by admitting that I really did want it. It might have been doomed, but it was real. And it's ending. And that is sad, however much better I should have known.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
"The quality of your life is the quality of your relationships". Anthony Robbins
Lucy details divorce-
I got married young. Somewhere inside, I knew that we could always wait to get married. But when he asked- it was an “all or nothing" sort of question. I wish I had chosen nothing now.
I was a tiny girl- maybe even too small. But after I met Don, I started to gain weight. I went from walking and going out, to being home a lot. I went from a few drinks now and then, to drinks every day. I went from healthy light meals, to late night BLTs. Everything about my life had changed- so wouldn't my weight?
Two months before our wedding, Don wrote me a letter about how my weight gain had made him not attracted to me anymore. He loved me- but thought I should look into it and try to lose weight. My heart broke.
Looking back- I now know that I was not that big at all. But the weight issues began for me at that time. I lost a lot of self-confidence. Also, looking back- why did I still marry him? When he saw that I was upset- he felt terrible. He pulled the whole "I'll understand if you never love me again- I am terrible- I do not deserve you.". I was young and too meek. I hated seeing him so sad. So I apologized for being over sensitive. And admitted I did have some weight issues. We moved on. Well, maybe.
We were together seven years, married for four. Maybe one of those years was great. More of them were just OK. And sadly, most of it was terrible. Don was depressed. Don had emotional issues. Over time- these issues would only get worse. I became his security blanket. And the darkness that comes with the demons he was fighting on the inside took him right to the bottle.
Alcohol.
Many times people who do not understand alcoholics, would tell me he was not one. Sure, he may have a few too many at the bar, but so does everyone. Those people obviously do not live with one. They do not have the anger, the spite, the utter pathetic mess that it makes of someone. They do not have to have a drunk around them on a Sunday morning. They do not have to tip toe around their own life. They do not have to live in fear. So yes, maybe everyone gets a little silly at the bar. But my guess is that they leave it at the bar. And start it there too. I really gave my marriage 110%. I gave it my all. So much so that I really lost myself. I kept gaining weight. I kept slipping further down the hole with him. I would often tell my sister I was very depressed. It was not Don, it was me, I was depressed. He would even tell my sister that I had problems. That is all funny now to me. He really convinced himself, I had the problems.
He would rarely have sex with me.
He would rarely care about what I cared about.
He would rarely leave the house-
He would belittle me in front of friends and family all the time.
I began to believe that I did have problems. I really started to hate myself. But then something happened. I came up for air(we will go into that on another blog). And when it happened- for one second- I realized there was more to me, more to life. I gave him a choice, marriage counseling and no more drinking. He agreed. But then two weeks passed. And he was drinking again. When I would complain about it- he would say my nagging is what caused it. And that he only agreed to those conditions to calm me down. He never intended to do either. So we would start again. More promises, more lies. More scary nights of him going into the deep end. More apologies. More of them same to follow. Then one night, as he was screaming at me. His eyes so filled with hate- I decided that if anything was ever to change- I had to make the change. The next morning I packed a bag and left. I have not looked back since that day.
I have been separated from him for three months. I have lost 12 pounds- with more to follow. Everyone tells me I look happy, I look healthy. Each day- I gain more of myself back.
He is still stuck. He sends me messages on a regular basis saying how much he loves me. He has asked why I am so quickly throwing everything away- because of one bad night. To him- that was the first really bad part of our marriage, the part where I left him. To me- it had been years. Some days he calls me and tries to be very nice. He tries to act like everything is great. Other times he calls me to yell at me and remind me that I have ruined his life. He tells people I left him, to find myself. That I took everything. He has nothing.
I took nothing, by the way. He and his mother (we will save her for another day!) took whatever they wanted from this home. I left the home to him. But when he realized he could not afford it he gave it back to me (I paid the rent on my own quite often). I rented him a storage unit to put all his collectibles in. But he pawned them instead. But somehow, he still blames me that he has nothing. I pay his cell, I pay his health insurance. I took on all our debt (got a loan). Sometimes he gives me money- most of the time I cannot cash it- because it becomes clear later he needs the money to eat with. (or drink?). He has yet to go to AA. Or seek help. Oh and he wants his security deposit from our apartment. The one that he punched holes- that I will be having to pay the landlord to fix. The home that I paid rent for most of the time we were together. Yes- let me write you that check right away Don.
This entry is really an overview. Divorce is hard- stressful - hurtful- hard.
And soon it will be over.
I got married young. Somewhere inside, I knew that we could always wait to get married. But when he asked- it was an “all or nothing" sort of question. I wish I had chosen nothing now.
I was a tiny girl- maybe even too small. But after I met Don, I started to gain weight. I went from walking and going out, to being home a lot. I went from a few drinks now and then, to drinks every day. I went from healthy light meals, to late night BLTs. Everything about my life had changed- so wouldn't my weight?
Two months before our wedding, Don wrote me a letter about how my weight gain had made him not attracted to me anymore. He loved me- but thought I should look into it and try to lose weight. My heart broke.
Looking back- I now know that I was not that big at all. But the weight issues began for me at that time. I lost a lot of self-confidence. Also, looking back- why did I still marry him? When he saw that I was upset- he felt terrible. He pulled the whole "I'll understand if you never love me again- I am terrible- I do not deserve you.". I was young and too meek. I hated seeing him so sad. So I apologized for being over sensitive. And admitted I did have some weight issues. We moved on. Well, maybe.
We were together seven years, married for four. Maybe one of those years was great. More of them were just OK. And sadly, most of it was terrible. Don was depressed. Don had emotional issues. Over time- these issues would only get worse. I became his security blanket. And the darkness that comes with the demons he was fighting on the inside took him right to the bottle.
Alcohol.
Many times people who do not understand alcoholics, would tell me he was not one. Sure, he may have a few too many at the bar, but so does everyone. Those people obviously do not live with one. They do not have the anger, the spite, the utter pathetic mess that it makes of someone. They do not have to have a drunk around them on a Sunday morning. They do not have to tip toe around their own life. They do not have to live in fear. So yes, maybe everyone gets a little silly at the bar. But my guess is that they leave it at the bar. And start it there too. I really gave my marriage 110%. I gave it my all. So much so that I really lost myself. I kept gaining weight. I kept slipping further down the hole with him. I would often tell my sister I was very depressed. It was not Don, it was me, I was depressed. He would even tell my sister that I had problems. That is all funny now to me. He really convinced himself, I had the problems.
He would rarely have sex with me.
He would rarely care about what I cared about.
He would rarely leave the house-
He would belittle me in front of friends and family all the time.
I began to believe that I did have problems. I really started to hate myself. But then something happened. I came up for air(we will go into that on another blog). And when it happened- for one second- I realized there was more to me, more to life. I gave him a choice, marriage counseling and no more drinking. He agreed. But then two weeks passed. And he was drinking again. When I would complain about it- he would say my nagging is what caused it. And that he only agreed to those conditions to calm me down. He never intended to do either. So we would start again. More promises, more lies. More scary nights of him going into the deep end. More apologies. More of them same to follow. Then one night, as he was screaming at me. His eyes so filled with hate- I decided that if anything was ever to change- I had to make the change. The next morning I packed a bag and left. I have not looked back since that day.
I have been separated from him for three months. I have lost 12 pounds- with more to follow. Everyone tells me I look happy, I look healthy. Each day- I gain more of myself back.
He is still stuck. He sends me messages on a regular basis saying how much he loves me. He has asked why I am so quickly throwing everything away- because of one bad night. To him- that was the first really bad part of our marriage, the part where I left him. To me- it had been years. Some days he calls me and tries to be very nice. He tries to act like everything is great. Other times he calls me to yell at me and remind me that I have ruined his life. He tells people I left him, to find myself. That I took everything. He has nothing.
I took nothing, by the way. He and his mother (we will save her for another day!) took whatever they wanted from this home. I left the home to him. But when he realized he could not afford it he gave it back to me (I paid the rent on my own quite often). I rented him a storage unit to put all his collectibles in. But he pawned them instead. But somehow, he still blames me that he has nothing. I pay his cell, I pay his health insurance. I took on all our debt (got a loan). Sometimes he gives me money- most of the time I cannot cash it- because it becomes clear later he needs the money to eat with. (or drink?). He has yet to go to AA. Or seek help. Oh and he wants his security deposit from our apartment. The one that he punched holes- that I will be having to pay the landlord to fix. The home that I paid rent for most of the time we were together. Yes- let me write you that check right away Don.
This entry is really an overview. Divorce is hard- stressful - hurtful- hard.
And soon it will be over.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Welcome to Rock Bottom
This is the blog of two girls in their 20's- who have hit rock bottom with love.
Meet Lucy- A 27 year old woman who is currently in the process of divorce.
Meet Jane- A 27 year old woman who is termianally single.
Lucy fears she will find love too quickly with another douche bag & end up married.
Jane fears she that men will only ever want her for sex and that she will never find love or get married.
Both ladies have agreed to help the other make changes to how they date & who (and why!).
This is how they got there-
Reality bitch-slaps Lucy:
Another night & he is screaming at me. I know he will not remember in the morning the hurtful words thrown at me. I know he will tomorrow pretend that everything is OK. He will promise to not drink. He will promise to treat me with respect (maybe tomorrow he get the counseling I have asked him to seek?). And then we will take one step forward. And then he will drag us 5 steps back. I wish I could bring him back to the man I loved. But at this point, do I even love him? Do I even love myself anymore? How do you love someone who stands over the bed every night telling me he hates me & telling me, again, all my faults, before passing out drunk. How did I even get to this point? Oh no...what is that noise? You have got to be kidding me. He is NOT peeing on my bedroom door. This is not happening. But it is. It is happening. Tomorrow I will have to start my day with paper towels and bleach. This is it-this is rock bottom.
Reality bitch-slaps Jane:
I have horrible luck with birthdays. I like single people holidays like Halloween or effing Patriot's day. Birthdays require friends and relationships not to be total disaster-and lately I find myself painfully lacking in both departments. For some reason 27 is hitting me hard. I know it's ridiculous, but I have been going around all week telling people that this year I'm turning old. It's a weekday, so I suffer through work. Most people forget. I do not get a cake. By five-fifteen I have heard from my entire circle (of three)-save one-the obligatory bum I have come to love this season. I've dated some serious circus freaks in the past-but I always thought that some things would always be deal-breakers...you know like: "he's married", or: "he thinks Coldplay is the best band EVER". Not the case. My boyfriend has a wife (and a serious Coldplay fetish)...and by 7:30-it has become clear that he has also forgotten my birthday. Visions of Molly Ringwald self-righteously informing her friend in Sixteen Candles that she wasn't expecting a breakfast birthday party float threw my head. But its true. I wasn't expecting anything but a Happy Birthday. I hit the lowest possible level in my response to this-the passive aggressive text message. "Are you trying to tell me something right now?" I type. As I hit send, my soul throws up a little. He calls me. I tell him what day it is. "Oh. Well happy birthday", he says. Understand that his tone is saying "Oh, well whatever". Something in me snaps, and I tell him to bite me. He then sets a land speed record getting the eff of the phone. I panic-what if he breaks up with me? I call him back and spew an apology. I had a bad day, I'm really not upset-it's not a big deal. When I hang up-I scrounge though my apartment, and discover the universe is so cruel that the only alcohol I have in the house is an ancient bottle of Triple Sec. I mix it with Seven Up. There is no ice. As I choke down my first sip-and then pound the rest, I look around. I'm twenty-seven years old and I have a shitty apartment, no friends, a dead end job, a mountain of debt, and I just apologized to my MARRIED boyfriend for being upset that he forgot my birthday. I just turned old, and I have nothing. This is rock bottom.
Meet Lucy- A 27 year old woman who is currently in the process of divorce.
Meet Jane- A 27 year old woman who is termianally single.
Lucy fears she will find love too quickly with another douche bag & end up married.
Jane fears she that men will only ever want her for sex and that she will never find love or get married.
Both ladies have agreed to help the other make changes to how they date & who (and why!).
This is how they got there-
Reality bitch-slaps Lucy:
Another night & he is screaming at me. I know he will not remember in the morning the hurtful words thrown at me. I know he will tomorrow pretend that everything is OK. He will promise to not drink. He will promise to treat me with respect (maybe tomorrow he get the counseling I have asked him to seek?). And then we will take one step forward. And then he will drag us 5 steps back. I wish I could bring him back to the man I loved. But at this point, do I even love him? Do I even love myself anymore? How do you love someone who stands over the bed every night telling me he hates me & telling me, again, all my faults, before passing out drunk. How did I even get to this point? Oh no...what is that noise? You have got to be kidding me. He is NOT peeing on my bedroom door. This is not happening. But it is. It is happening. Tomorrow I will have to start my day with paper towels and bleach. This is it-this is rock bottom.
Reality bitch-slaps Jane:
I have horrible luck with birthdays. I like single people holidays like Halloween or effing Patriot's day. Birthdays require friends and relationships not to be total disaster-and lately I find myself painfully lacking in both departments. For some reason 27 is hitting me hard. I know it's ridiculous, but I have been going around all week telling people that this year I'm turning old. It's a weekday, so I suffer through work. Most people forget. I do not get a cake. By five-fifteen I have heard from my entire circle (of three)-save one-the obligatory bum I have come to love this season. I've dated some serious circus freaks in the past-but I always thought that some things would always be deal-breakers...you know like: "he's married", or: "he thinks Coldplay is the best band EVER". Not the case. My boyfriend has a wife (and a serious Coldplay fetish)...and by 7:30-it has become clear that he has also forgotten my birthday. Visions of Molly Ringwald self-righteously informing her friend in Sixteen Candles that she wasn't expecting a breakfast birthday party float threw my head. But its true. I wasn't expecting anything but a Happy Birthday. I hit the lowest possible level in my response to this-the passive aggressive text message. "Are you trying to tell me something right now?" I type. As I hit send, my soul throws up a little. He calls me. I tell him what day it is. "Oh. Well happy birthday", he says. Understand that his tone is saying "Oh, well whatever". Something in me snaps, and I tell him to bite me. He then sets a land speed record getting the eff of the phone. I panic-what if he breaks up with me? I call him back and spew an apology. I had a bad day, I'm really not upset-it's not a big deal. When I hang up-I scrounge though my apartment, and discover the universe is so cruel that the only alcohol I have in the house is an ancient bottle of Triple Sec. I mix it with Seven Up. There is no ice. As I choke down my first sip-and then pound the rest, I look around. I'm twenty-seven years old and I have a shitty apartment, no friends, a dead end job, a mountain of debt, and I just apologized to my MARRIED boyfriend for being upset that he forgot my birthday. I just turned old, and I have nothing. This is rock bottom.
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