Yesterday, I had a student guess my age at 35. Granted, it came from a 13 year old boy, but at 51, I let my self enjoy it for a minute!
What a find nestled between my many colored pens! This newly found pricey long lasting lip gloss has been given a new life!
I know a lot of women will recognize the “EPH” (SEPHORA) on the side. If you are a person, like me, that will only bring cash and leave my cards at home when going to Costco, don’t even enter SEPHORA . You’ll involuntarily spend at least $65 by just crossing the threshold!
I’ve come to the conclusion that the men I choose in my life suck.
The first man to suck was the father of my oldest daughter. I was just 20. He abandoned us when I gave birth.
The second man, the main man, was John my husband of 28 years. He is a narcissist.
Unbelievably, I fell in love with the third man just this last July, Rick. We had known each other since we were teenagers. He popped up into my life and manipulated me to such a degree even the likes of John and the other guy had never seen.
When the lies were revealed to me I deleted all his texts, photos, etc. He has only tried to reach me once the next morning and haven’t heard from him since. There is so much more to this story than the few sentences I have written. I am so upset by his betrayal that I’m not even able to write about it fully.
My therapist warned me to go slowly. I honestly tried. At first I thought I was. I think my perception of slow is different from other people’s. It must have something to do with a lifetime of running my four-day ultra-rapid cycling pattern.
I was going slow for me.
In addition to the hate for Rick, and all the lies he told, I feel used. I feel violated. I know that word it tossed around and has made us all insensitive to it, but I was in every sense of the word. The situation this man caused was so horrible it made me miss John. The night that the bottom fell out of this short relationship I stacked up my pillows in bed and tried to hug them like they were John. That is so sad I’m tearing up remembering it.
For all the trash I talk about John, I miss him. He always protected me. Half the time he was what I needed protection from, but that’s how I felt even though it might not have been true. It’s normal to still miss him. I have a crazy unrealistic healing time schedule in my mind.
The advice I’ve been given is to feel what I’m feeling. It doesn’t mean I want him back. I’ve cried on and off since last Monday. I don’t even seem to be able to hold tears back even when I want to. I cry because I miss John, I cry because Rick broke my heart. I cry because I’m lonely. I miss my oldest daughter and my son. I’m crying now. I’m just so sad.
I’ve got a long road. I thought I could make it shorter, but it doesn’t work that way.
I feel complaining about insignificant things and labeling them “FWP” exonerates me from being a whiny spoiled person living in the best place in the world. I’m also a jaded ex-catholic, so there is already a layer of guilt underneath everything I say and do.
I want to post this for another reason. With the hell I’ve been going through for the past year from medication side effects, divorce, being ostracized by my children and doing all of this in a delicate mental condition, I welcome superficial trivial problems.
Here is one now:
Well, so far this is a very good day! I colored my hair this week from an online hair color boasting it is just like the professional color. I don’t know why I bother. The brown of my hair turned out beautifully but the white came out a light brownish reddish. Anyway……I used the last of my root concealer two days ago (forgot all about covering my roots on Tuesday and was out doing errands for four hours). Luckily I wasn’t aware so had all of the confidence of a good looking person. Back to my roots (pardon the pun) I was even debating wearing one of Allison’s hats to hit the Walgreens early before too many people were there to get a new can of concealer. In the bathroom I took one more last ditch effort, fingers crossed, to look in the bathroom closet. There it was buried under cold medicine…..half a can!!! Halejuha!
Dear Life: please keep bringing on those kind of problems. I really need a break. xoxo
So much anger.
I was feeling pretty strong against the ex-husband and his girlfriend yesterday morning.
He is trying to pass her off as his roommate. No one knows what I know about how they were sleeping together a full 6 months before I asked for the divorce. Even the children seem to have been fooled. I can’t say anything to anyone because when it is all said and done I’m taking the high road as usual (not willingly believe me). I Looking back at how outrageously (even for him) his behavior was during that time I believe I was manipulated (AGAIN) into asking for the divorce.
So I checked Facebook to see if I was truly able to handle it.
He was on her page with a selfie of themselves. Under the comments was a comment from my mother in law saying “Just a couple of kids!”
I was so angry, hurt and other things I can’t even name that I went into a horrible spiral of depression and anxiety. It was a pretty dark day.
I got up this morning and felt much better. I tested the memory of yesterday to see if they still held their sting and they did. Good news for me is not as painful. Then it dawned on me that checking Facebook was in essence breaking the No Contact rule! That is the real key to recovery and now I have to start all over again! I had 4 whole weeks under my belt.
I’ve been doing EMDR for a whole host of things in the last few months. When this woman moved into my old house with him I had to see my therapist twice a week for two weeks. I have sooooo much more work to do.
I hate him. I hate them. I haven’t really been able to enjoy any of my freedom from him because he’s still getting to me but on a higher and different level. When will this get better? When can I finally feel better?
Its just like you when you try every trick in the book to lose weight and it always comes back to diet and exercise. Time heals all wounds.
Blocking all of them and taking the Facebook app of my phone is a good measure as well.
Beware of him that is slow to anger; for when it is long coming, it is the stronger when comes, and the longer kept. Abused patience turns to fury.
So much has happened since my divorce was final I am going to start at the end and do sort of a flash back thing until I lose track of which order everything came in. Please follow along…
The elation and anticipation of being off for the summer was thwarted because I had to ween myself off Pristiq. Withdrawal symptoms have been complete exhaustion, not eating, and brain zaps to name a few.
I planned this withdrawal very carefully. Two years ago, I stopped taking Abilify because of twitching in my legs. Two weeks later I fell into a deep depression. I was put on Seroquel. Two weeks later, another depression because the dosage wasn’t high enough.
One of the things I am terrible at is judging my state of mind. I think it goes back to 43 years of coping with my moods alone. I had to mask them from others and myself. Not recognizing my last decent into into hell, my therapist and I came up with a 10 point question sheet to ask myself if I’m feeling different. It makes me feel more secure.
I spoke to Tristan about needing his help if I go into a depression. I spoke to Allison and told her if this happened she should call Tristan if I couldn’t.
After two weeks of careful planning the withdrawal and doing everything I’m supposed to do I took a dive. It was more like a crash and burn; I don’t even remember the dive.
Getting Tristan’s help was more stress that help so I called the only sane person I know, my sister. I started to cry and she said to call my psychiatrist. I did and he called me back very quickly. My sister had called his office and said it was an emergency. My Dr asked if I was suicidal because my sister had threatened to call an ambulance. Total overreaction. Just writing this out makes me feel humiliated. And I was and am. What do they say about best laid plans?
The reason I had to stop taking Pristiq is because it was causing “Serotonin Syndrome”. I had all the classic signs especially the hypo-mania. I used to look forward to this little gem in my non-medicated un-diagnosed life. Now it really sucks. No pleasure from it, just agitation, irritability, poor sleep and all the other bad traits.
I wrote most of this blog the day after the crash. I must have lost my concentration at the end because I had begun writing in a “stream of consciousness” style.
I wrote about how nobody understands, how I can’t trust anyone to be there, why am I even trying so hard, what is there to live for……
I know that is how I truly felt. It’s not true today.
It’s just me and Allison now. I am alone to take care of me. I have always taken care of Allison on my own, but I’ve always had help for me.
I’m going down another half dose this week, I’ll be brave.
It’s been about 6 weeks since I’ve been free from the tyranny that was John, my husband, now my ex-husband.
I can remember when I became a wife and he became my husband what a kick I got out of saying, “I’ll ask my husband” or “My husband likes that”. Now I get the same kind of wonder and thrill when I say my ex-husband. It didn’t take me long at all to stop tripping up and saying “my husband” and having to correct myself “I mean, my ex-husband”. I know whoever I’m talking to doesn’t care either way, but it is important to me to be clear for my own sake. I keep expecting to break down into tears when I realize finally that it’s over. That hasn’t happened in fact I just keep getting happier and more peaceful as each day goes by.
Tonight, he called and said he was coming by with some things I left behind and to give Allison her birthday card. I said okay and immediately began to try on clothes that make me look thin and young. Of course, I don’t have any sort of magical clothing that does that, so I settled with a long t-shirt and skinny jeans. Put my hair up, let it down, put it back up again. Thought about makeup, decided against it, I mean it was 8pm, makeup wasn’t going to improve me enough to be worth it.
The last time I had seen him was the day I moved and he stood in the doorway of his house and said I couldn’t come in ever again.
This time, at my house, I invited him in and let him look at the kitchen and the living room. He seemed normal, the way he would treat anyone else. We chatted a bit the way we always have and then he left.
No rush of emotions either way.