Heartbreak and Isolation

I'm starting to get emails from people I know. 

They're worried. 

They can't get through because something is wrong with the phone lines.   They haven't seen me at political rallies.  I used to be someone they could count on showing up but now....I'm never around.

I'm usually answering comments on my various web channels but I'm not doing it anymore.

I haven't been updating my blogs with the exception of this one.  I try to write daily so those closest to me know I'm still breathing. 

I'll start answering the emails tomorrow.

I'm in this weird place. 

I've been waiting for the bank statement, so I can figure out how much money we have. 

I haven't seen one for at least a year now. 

Do you know why? 

I found out today.  The man in the basement had the contact information switched on all of our accounts.  Everything is sent to his email address. 

I'll carve out time to go to the bank and get them settled out. 

I feel isolated. 

I'm scared to go anywhere because goodness only knows if the car will run.  My check-engine light has been on for four years.  Goodness only knows if I can get enough money to buy gas. 

When he has to drive my car, he'll fill the tank. 

I need a bus pass.  I've been pushing for more transparency in the pubic transit system, yet I'm going to find myself depending on it.  I feel like a freakin' hypocrite because I said that if we can't have transparency in the system, it should be abolished. 

I've been borrowing money from my business accounts to survive.  I think I have $81 left.  This is weird. 

I'm torn between trying to grow the business (given that my assets are so little now) and waiting for the dust to settle.  I'm scared to create more products for fear it will be something to fight about to drag out the divorce. 

So, I sit and clean a house I don't want....all day long. 

I need to take control of this crazy situation. 

This is weird.   This is new to me. 


At least I have a lot of time to think. 

I'm not sure if I ever had time for heartbreak in the past. 


When Tom left, he was always around.  I think he was trying to make sure that everything was tied up into a neat little good-bye package, so neither one of us would be burdened with baggage when we left high school and moved on with our lives.

 He was always there, even after we broke up.  I remember him poking his head into the band room and exclaiming his love for redheads weeks after we broke up.  No one believed that we weren't a couple. 

Maybe I just don't know how to break up with men.   

That is a weird thought, isn't it?     

There is one memory that I regret more than any other and if I could go back and do it all over again, I'd do it differently.  It is the memory that keeps me away from my home town.  It happened at a bus stop across from a Dairy Queen. 

I had to drive past it the other day to drop off clothing donations to the battered women's charity on Friday.  They were doing road work, so I had to take that particular route.   I can't drive by without crying.  The last time I had to go that route was to visit a church for a funeral.  I looked like I knew the deceased by the time I got there.  At least, that is the best place to go when you're holding tissues.

In '87, on the last day of school for me, three friends followed me as I left the school.  One grabbed her camera, while the other two posed with me and my camera.  That shot ended up in the year book; that shot always stirs up sad memories.  

As I crossed the street and waited for the bus, I could feel Tom standing behind me.  Since he left me, he's had this loving yet solemn presence that is hard to describe.  It is very loving, very kind, but always sad.....like he's in mourning.   I can feel most it when he stands behind me.  The last time I felt it was January 10, 2011. That feeling always reduces me to tears because of this stupid memory.

I'm a selfish snot, even when I don't mean to be. 

On that morning in '87, I turn around and he sighs the word 'hi', tears filling his eyes but somehow he manages to contain them without letting them fall to his cheeks.  I always admired him for his ability to keep his emotions from getting the better of him. 

That 'hi' is haunting, too.  Every time I hear it, to this very day, it makes me want to cry. 

On this day, I was running late for work.  I had just moved into my new apartment in the scary part of town.  The bus was coming.  There was so much I wanted to say but so little time.  I couldn't find the words.  I just stayed silent.  I wanted to hug him but I was holding a camera bag and a book bag.  I just stood there. 

Now, this was the eighties...many of the boys wore eye-liner.  Don't laugh.  It was the way it was. 

His eyeliner began to run.  Now, being female, I find a black streaked face to be one the worst fashion faux pas.  It's so bad, for me, that I rarely wear mascara and opt for black henna.  In my bid to be helpful, I said the most dumb thing imaginable.  My parting words to my best friend were 'your mascara is running.' 

I should've put my stupid bags down and hugged him.  We both needed closure. 

Hindsight is 20/20. 

hottie....I'll keep my hugs to myself on that day. 

I never really got to mourn that relationship.  Like I said, he was always around.  Within a week of the end of school, I was sexually assaulted.  I was mourning the end of my innocence and angry at myself for not throwing myself at my boyfriend when I had him.  If I had let Tom destroy my innocence, I think it would have not have hurt so much when a stinky old geezer took it. 

I'm beginning to believe that I was too busy healing from the assault to mourn the loss of that relationship. 

The guy after that was too violent to mourn.  It was easy to justify getting rid of him, I didn't like the ER and the restraining order made it incredibly final.   The judge didn't give me a choice on that restraining order.  He saw pictures taken by the police in the ER.  It is amazing that I survived with just a back injury.

I don't want to whine but he broke most of the fingers on my right hand and mangled my right wrist before hendrixing my guitar.  That man hated my bass and didn't like me playing it so much.  If you look closely, you can see two crooked fingers and my right wrist is thicker than my left.  I don't mind the scars, though, they remind me of a long lost friend who was stolen away by Hollywood.  He set my broken fingers.  I last saw him at a State fair where he was promoting a movie.  He still remembered me.  I'm hoping he is still a shining star. 


God always brings us angels in our hour of need. 
 
Why can't I end up with an angel?  Why do I always seem to end up stuck with the soul-stealing demons? 

There must be something wrong with me. 

This relationship...I think I've been in mourning since '00.  That is a long time.  It seems like with each passing day, he takes more and more from me.  I end up staying because he says that it is good for everyone else.  He promises to get better.  Things never get better. 

Every time I try to leave, it seems like he gets scarier.  I've got to stay silent this time.  I've got to plan my exit strategy and leave quietly.  I've got to go far away. 

Oh....I found the origin of my panic attacks. 

At night, my mind ponders the feeling of being alone.  I love the smell of clean sheets.  I love the feel of my satin pillow.  It is nice to be able to enjoy a good book prior to falling asleep without disturbing another human being. 

It is weird how sleep habits rarely change.  I still sleep on the left side of the bed while books and notebooks fill the right side. 

Books are not warm.   I still wake up at 5:55 a.m. and have the habit of looking to my right and crying.   I am now finally averaging about five hours of sleep a night.  This is a big improvement. 

The nighttime crying, though, has been going on for well over eight years. 

I feel helpless about improving the situation.   Mike expects me to stay married for the kids.  He isn't willing to have a relationship with me.   He is giving me conflicting information about his expectations.  I cannot see other people but if I do, he says that I must keep it out of the house. 

He also says he loves me but I'm not so sure he does... He wants to be with me but he doesn't.  He wants me to stay but he doesn't.  I'm confused. 

Why in the heck do men want wives they don't love.  Are they really afraid of the laundry?   Maybe they keep us around so they don't suffocate from the smell of their dirty socks. 

I don't know. 

All I know is that this isn't working for me. 

I'm stuck. 

Then, I remember those few times I've been asked to explain my love life. 

That is when the panic attacks set in. 

People will ask me why I look so sad.  They'll ask why I don't have a wedding ring.  They'll ask who Mike is.  They'll ask if I'm getting my needs met.

I try to make jokes out of it.  You know...it's been twenty years.  Men get bored eating the same thing day after day....you know how it is...don't you? 

People usually laugh. 

The questions I have a problem with the most are those that start with...

why?

That word sets in the panic. 

I don't know why. 

Maybe I snore.

Maybe I am so fat the bed falls on the left side. 

Maybe I hog all the covers. 
Maybe I look like a wildebeest at night. 

Maybe I look horrific without my make-up in the dark.

Maybe he's afraid he'll fall into the cellulite dimples and never return to this realm. 

Maybe I am possessed by a farting demon in the wee hours of the morning. 

Maybe I'm not pretty enough, sexy enough, or fun enough. 

Maybe I am simply not enough. 

That's the one that does it.   I mean, after years of not having a partner, one begins to question her worth as a woman.  It's not pretty. 

In the business, we call that stinkin' thinkin'. 

I've been hiding away from my friends, staying in the place in order to try to figure out what the heck is going on.  He's hiding the information from me, so I cannot make sense of it. 

I need to take control of my life and leave.  I wish he'd want to put everything in a neat little package and tie a nice pretty bow on it. 

This mess is killing me. 

Love,

S.

Picky

 

Fairy Tales

Hey....I believe in fairy tales. 

Yep! 

Do you know why? 

There is always a wicked crone, an evil, vain, jealous, nasty female character who is running around making bad, selfish, powerful boys pay.  Men don't get to rescue her.  She gets to torment, tease, and make their lives a living hell. 

That's me on a good day. 

At least that's what people think....

Ha...

The truth is that I wish I could pull that one off....maybe if I learn to soften my glare, a little.

I don't want to be evil.  No one does.  What starts off as white magic, tends to go black in the presence of selfishness and evil.  Evil darkens everything it touches.  The worst evil is often perpetrated by those who think they are acting out of purity and goodness.

Stupid men pass laws to impose their morality on other people and, in their shortsightedness, they cause poor people to starve to death, small business owners to go under, and people to lose their homes. 

Power corrupts, even if one tries to use it for the good of others. 

This was my lesson from politics. I'm being asked to go back into it. 

I don't know....
When I was a kid, I wanted to be a famous musician.  Then, I began to write hypnotic stories and wanted to be a famous author.  I've been published (won't dare tell you where and when).   I liked writing and wanted to continue but then the city lawyers started bugging me.  I never thought I'd get my taste of celebrity due to my propensity to whine and complain. 

I've been trying to get out of here for four years.  Stupid economy...stupid exes that can't replace me....stupid exes that can't let me move on.....

I'm living the life of a teenager...no sex...lots and lots of chores...and do you know what is funny?  The man in the basement decided to give me an allowance!  Yeppers, I get $20 every two weeks and I usually spend it at the store that supports battered women buying homemade crafts and toys for the kids. 

How funny is that? 

I'd be offended but it makes me giggle too much.  I never got to be a teenager...I had to work and support myself.  I kinda feel like Merlyn, I'm living my life freakin' backwards!!

I need to leave before I go insane. 

Still....maybe I should stay here just so I can torment the politicians again. 

I mean the shadow side of the magician archetype usually forces someone to pay; I want them to atone for abusing the citizenry.  Maybe it fits for someone like me. 

Or I could just curse the crap out of them and move. 

I've stocked up on black candles and, quite sadly, the white ones too. 

Yeah....

I think, right now, I'm torn between being the fairy godmother or the wicked witch: maybe I can be both, fairy godmother to the families and wicked in the eyes of the big brotherish good ol' boy establishment. 

This is my reality. 

I can be Maleficent or an attendant to the Goddess of the Dawn. 

Decisions....

decisions....

decisions.....

Maybe I need to be a bit of both. 


Love ya, 

S.

Bad Boy Death Wishes

I just realized that the men I've loved have been left with death wishes.

One hops out of airplanes. 

One became a race car driver.

One claims to be trying to die in a similar fashion to the obese guy in  'The Life of Brian'.  He likes the idea.  I can't talk him out of it. 

Well...at least they know how they want to snuff themselves. 

I guess that gives them a sense of having a measure of control over their own mortality. 

I don't know...

I used to think teenage boys were weird.  Nope....I finally see that forty year old men are weirder.


Please...

someone please tell me that this is because they are all in their early to mid-forties. 

I pray I had nothing to do with this...and that this is just their mid-life crisis parties coming to pass. 

It could be that they've met evil face to face and they figure that dying is the best escape route.  I mean this all seemed to start after they started having run-ins with me.  Maybe they think they're in hell and trying to get reborn somehow. 

I really don't know...

I wonder...

Yeah...the worrying and the nightmares are getting to be a bit much. 

On the bright side, the dreams mean I'm sleeping again! 


Hooray!!!

I figured out how to sleep five hours a night. 

It involves lighting candles at my altar, praying to my Deity, praying that anybody I've ever hurt has their life improved tenfold, and wishing the best for the people I've played with until I fall asleep. 

Without fail, I fall asleep around 1:15 a.m and wake up at 5:55 a.m.   My alarm is set for 7:00, but I don't need it. 

The problem is that I dream of my evil ways and the subsequent bad karma. 

I've been a spoiled little snot-head. 
Sigh....

At least I'm sleeping. 
Sleep means I look better and my vanity is restored. 

Yeah!!!
 I have got to enjoy my appearance before my skin starts getting so saggy it falls off my face. 

Aging is fun says the woman lucky enough not to be going gray but platinum blond. 

Denial, they say...is not just a river in Egypt. 

It's still fun. 


Love,

S.

25th High School Reunion

I was invited to my 25th high school reunion a couple of days ago. 

This is killing me. 

Last time, all I did was fight with the ex.  One of the former football players was picking up on me while some guy I never met was snapping my picture under the table blinding me with the flash.
.
I was so irritated, I went to the bar and got a "Mike's Hard Lemonade."

Then Mike started in on me...

he never saw me with an alcoholic drink before....
and I was a little snarky one...

I started laughing about how beautiful it was that I could use his name and the word hard in the same sentence. 

Oopps! 

We left the party to try to sort out our differences.  It was soo bad, we skipped the final day of the reunion. 

This time....everyone knows we're separated. 

When he left on Christmas Day in '08, I posted it to Facebook. 

Only a weasel would leave his wife and children on Christmas day. 

I didn't really take him back. 
He had no where else to go when he ran out of funds a week later. 
He took his room in the basement.  We've been in this bizarre state since then. 

Then I realized I couldn't leave him if he wasn't working because we'd lose all of our assets if I didn't stay to help him.  I also don't want to pay alimony to a moron who complains whenever I try to hold a job. 


Everyone knows I'm staying in this house.  They seem to see my pain. 


A couple of classmates have accused me of suffering from 'ex guilt'.  They say that he'll be able to grow up and get what he needs.  They say that I need to follow my heart.  They say that I need to get my needs met.  They tell me that life is too short to put up with this painful crap. 

There is one guy who I think is trying to pull the waiting in the wings stunt. 

It almost worked.  I have a teensy, weensy crush on him. 

He is a former classmate.  I remember him, in his letterman's jacket, sitting behind me in Social Science class with his textbook in his lap.  He remembers my tight sweaters. 

But...I had a crush on someone else at the time.  The next year, my crush and I would become quite close, so close in fact, no one would approach me until we broke up.  Everyone said we acted like an old married couple.  It was obvious that we were an item. 


I have no secrets. 

Mike knows. 

It's just a little crush....

It would never work with this man.  I get on his nerves too much.  We'd never be able to spend more than an hour at a whack together. 

After twenty minutes or so the conversation gets raunchy.  Then he needs a cigarette and then he goes home. 

Sigh...

He's bald. 

I think it's hot. 

I mean....I can't exactly say why I think it's hot but I think it has something to do with another bald head that I've come to worship over the years. 

One day...Mike was worried about losing his hair. 

"Don't worry", I told him.  "It's the hottest thing on the planet."

"Really?"  he starred at me in disbelief. 

"Yep" I grinned, "As above, so below."

Six months later, I kid you not, I heard him quoting this to someone he worked with! 

I am so damn embarrassed! 

Really!!! 

I never intended for other people to know that!!  I'll never be able to go with him to a company picnic without dealing with the single truck drivers who know we are in one of those 'it's complicated' type of pissy, lonely, celibate, for the kids relationships. 

I am not a lot lizard. 

Oh no....I realized on that day that I truly needed to hold back my thoughts from someone I used to be able to share anything with. 

Now...I don't know what to do. 

Five years ago, I promised to help with the planning of the next reunion.  I promised to support the people putting it on

but I don't want to go. 

All I do is go to those damn things and think of Tom. 

I'm not sure if it's going to be worse this time around...I won't have anyone to flirt with to ease the loneliness.  I mean, in the past, when I got bored...I'd just reach around and [censored]. 

My exes always followed me.  I'm told that they like to watch me walk.  I think they just like being fondled. 

Sigh....


This time I won't have the distraction of a knock down, drag out fight and booze with a punishing name. 

I can't take my beautiful bald crush because, I think, this would count as a fourth date.  When we last met, I saw the look in his face.  I heard him question when I was moving out.  He had found me a new apartment.  He tried to help me get a job.  I know what he wanted.

He wanted to save me. 
At the time, I was pretending to be a politician and I told him I didn't want my misbehavior being mentioned in the paper.  He understood. 

Since then, things have gotten so bad I think I'm going to have to wait it out a little longer.   During the campaign, I had my credit destroyed and the 401K raided.   I'm flipping pissed. 

I should have taken the apartment and filed for a divorce before the crap hit the fan. 


The most painful part if it is the sleeping alone part.  It was fun the first year.  Back in '01, I had baby and we co-slept.  The second year was okay, too.  I had time to work in bed.  By about '08, it began to hurt too much.  In '11, I spent the wee hours of the morning rehearsing speeches realizing that I hadn't been with a man in so long that I feared sex more than I feared public speaking. 

After awhile, I just started to drink myself to sleep. 
I stopped doing that.  The sugar makes me fat. 

No matter how fat I became, my crush didn't criticize me. 

As I began to chunk out, he would say that I had "more Va Va Voom".

Ooohhh....

he likes curves. 

How sweet is that? 

He's going to make the right woman so very happy someday. 

I wish I had someone I could take with me. 

I couldn't imagine who it could be.  I'm obsessing about past relationships, probably in the hopes of learning how I mess everything up, I don't think it would be fair to take anyone with me.  I have realized that there must be something wrong with me for things to get this bad.  I have to find that flaw and fix it. 

What I really want to know is this....

if I can hypnotize myself to have mind blowing o's while looking at certain colors, why can't I hypnotize myself to not love my high school sweetheart? 

I've tried....

I can stop eating chocolate.  I can stop drowning in rum.  I can stop screaming at dork muffins who want to raise taxes on the poor and give the money to their rich buddies.  I can even hypnotize myself NOT to flirt with bad politicians in an effort to manipulate them (which is far too tempting sometimes)

but I can't hypnotize myself to stop loving someone. 

If I could stop loving him, it would be hella easier to move on. 

Maybe...I can hypnotize myself to come down with the flu in mid-July. 

Hmmmmm......

It could work. 

Love,

S.

Edit sometime later:

I was thinking about the pervert with the camera who was taking pictures of women underneath the tables. 

I don't know who he is but I may go just to play a trick on him. 

I'm going to wear a short skirt and beige undies.  Then I'm going to write on my thighs.  On the left one it will read "you'll never" and on the right one "get here"

I'll spread my legs when he aims his flipping camera and give him a shot of skin. 

Maybe he'll get a little thrill in the darkroom. 

Better yet, I wonder what if they make prosthetic male parts that I could strap onto my leg. 

I don't have to wear it unless I know for sure the guy is there. 

Hmmmm.....

I know just who to ask about the strap on....

I'll let you know. 

It's fun to be a brat. 

Love,

S.

Best Buddy Boys

When they were both four years old, my daughter and her little boy buddy were really, super cute together. 

They'd play. 

They'd eat ice cream. 

They'd run around the playground and get all sweaty. 

Now, a little over a decade later he has asked her for a date! 

It's too early!!! 

I thought all girls were 'icky' for fourteen year old boys. 

I guess not. 

He wants to take her to the movies. 

Absolutely NOT!! 

I have memories of a certain young man following me to the movie theatre. 

It went like this...

I'd see my friend after school and we'd talk about what we were doing after school.  He would dutifully say he was going to go home and do homework and I'd say that I was going to catch a movie before going home. 

He'd be worried about me going unescorted, so he'd tag along. 

He'd have no money, so I'd buy him a ticket.  Hey, one can easily rationalize that $3.50 (the price of a ticket back then) was well worth having a body guard for two hours and an escort on public transportation. 

In fact, it was a bargain! 

I never bought popcorn because I was a darn cheapskate!!  Well....I also knew that if I bought popcorn, he'd end up digging in it the same time I did and we'd end up holding our greasy hands together. 

I never bought popcorn....

Still...even without lard....somewhere during the movie...his hand would always end up grabbing mine.  It could have been during the scary parts or the freaky parts...I don't know.  Somehow his hand would always find its way over mine. 

Then the fingers would interlace. 

Then he'd be leaning into me. 

Then he'd be breathing in my ear. 

It would progress from there. 

Yeah....to this very day, I have no idea how any Tom Hanks or Eddie Murphy movies ended because I was too busy trying to get untangled from this gentleman to pay attention. 

Why the heck is my lie detector going off?  LOL!!  Yeah, I was just as much to blame for any inappropriate snuggling. 

I am being quite truthful when I say that I don't remember Sixteen Candles or The Breakfast Club, either.  People gasp when I tell them I never saw it.   I went to the movie.  I can tell you in detail what my buddy looked like in the flickering light...but...I have no clue about the plot lines of any of those movies. 

I do remember some of the contents in the protagonist's medicine cabinet in The Fly because my dear friend had to point out that there were balls on one of the shelves.  Just to be a brat, I made him explain what balls were.  It's a shame it was too darn dark in that theatre for me to get to see him blush!! 

Ah....that poor, poor soul.  I put him through the ringer. 

First loves always get a raw deal. 

I'm sorry.  He has no clue how many times I want to beg forgiveness when I'm in his presence.  He already forgave me but still....the more I reflect, the more stupid shit I remember pulling on him.   I did so much garbage to him....so much baloney...there was so much that I didn't know back then. 

I thought I was doing the right thing...but...I was a grade A moron. 

Based on my experience back in the day, I made it clear that my daughter could not go to the movies with her best buddy unless a few of her girlfriends went to make fun of them if they get too hot and heavy. 

This is happening far too fast. 

When I looked concerned, my daughter told me that she wanted to get her P.hD in Mythological and Cultural Studies so I should not worry about her becoming a teenage mother.

I am not sure if I should be consoled by that.  Why is she thinking about sex right now?

Oh my gracious.....help me through this.  I'm going to be doing a heck of a lot of praying. 

Love,

S.

My Daily Morning Freak Out

Well....

I woke up at 3:00 a.m., like I always do.  I mediated until about 5:30 or so. 

I didn't hear my ex's car start this morning.  He usually leaves around 4:00 every morning and comes back around 7:00 at night. 

I started to have a panic attack. 

Could he be dead? 

He is over 500 pounds. 

He does have sleep apnea. 

He's been having a lot of headaches lately. 

Maybe he's lying on the basement floor gasping for air. 

Now....I've been freaking out like this for months now.  He started sleeping in until 3:00 p.m. on the weekends (leaving me to deal with the kids despite me trying to go out and earn money).  I don't hear him snore.  I don't hear him move.  I worry that I'm going to find him blue. 

Last week, it was worse. 

Last Thursday, around 3:30 in the morning, I heard the front door open but no engine start.  I waited.  I waited.  Around 4:15, I ran downstairs, flung on the porch light and found that he was a-ok...just rocking out to some music in his new car. 

Whew...

I'm terrified I'm going to have to be the one to find his cold lifeless body if he doesn't lose some of that weight. 

Do I stay? 

Do I go? 

What the heck do I do? 

The lawyers want me to take the kids and the house.  They say that it would be cruel to let the kids live with someone so out of shape, angry, and who is never at home.  He's really not in the best of health.

He makes more money than I do.  It would be cruel for me to take them if I can't feed them on my own.

He says if I leave him, he'll stop visiting the kids and get rid of the house so they have to go to another school.  I stayed.  Now, he's saying he'll keep the house and apologized for trying to coerce me to stay in this house with him.  That trick worked for four years.  It hurt me deeply. 

We have daughters.  Teenage daughters need their fathers; they keep the filthy boys at bay. 

This morning....after fretting and worrying for a couple of hours, I get the urge to run downstairs.  Will I find him alive?  Do I need to grab the phone and be prepared to dial 911. 

Something was off...I knew it!

Well.....

He was alive and breathing. 

He was having his manly alone time. 

He was getting off...

I wish he'd find a woman to do that for him. 

Love ya,

S.