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Important reminders today. Sometimes doctors are good, especially when you need an anti-nausea shot. Sometimes there is nothing more important than not throwing up again. And also having migraine meds that work. And a daughter who drives you to the doctor. And a guy who texts you all weekend. Saltines are good. So are naps. A laptop break revealed that being off laptop significantly decreased neck pain. Now what? Osama is dead; I'm glad. Some things can be simple. A cool pillow, cold Sprite, Tracy Chapman music, a kitten video, feeling OK enough to go to work tomorrow. Probably.
He knew it was the end, crawled into bed with me, something he never did. I held him close, all bones and softness, and he purred so loudly. Was he happy to be with me? Normally he was a friendly cat, but not lovey. I like to think I comforted him in his last moments. And then he began to wheeze so we drove him to the vet, pointlessly, but we thought we should. I never let him go and he took his last breath as I held him on my lap. I want to believe he didn't die alone.
Sarah's parents were building a house and wanted me all weekend, both days, from 6 to 6. I had no problem with this. Sarah cried when her mother left, but only for a minute. We played, went to the park, ate "blo-nee" -- Sarah loved bologna. My parents took us to the mall once so I could have a DJ sign a book I wanted. I pretended I was a teen mom and swaggered up, money in hand. Larry Lujack, the famous Chicago DJ, asked how old I was. Fourteen, I said. He told me not to read the intro.
Not a good night, should have been, but wasn't. That's the thing about "special occasions" ... too much pressure. Though I didn't really feel that because I've been sick, still feel sick, just wanted to see him. But everyone is entitled to a down mood. Must remind myself his stuff has nothing to do with me. Feel so disconnected from him, everyone. But that is how it is, always has been. Connection is the illusion. He and I, how much do we have in common really? Mustn't think about that. It's good generally. This is just one night out of many.
Relationships, like music, are composed of memories, or so I believe, the notes building upon each other into a melody, harmonious or otherwise. If you can't remember what came before, how these entities -- a piece of conversation, an hour cut from a day -- mean anything? Yet my father and his new girlfriend, both with significant memory impairments, are somehow creating a friendship/relationship, though they can barely remember each other's names at times. They repeat entire conversations, day after day. Much time is spent helping recover misplaced glasses and trying to decide if things have been stolen. Strange yet sweet.
I am sporadic, but I hope I trend upward. I don't know. How can you measure yourself? I try to be more "proactive" ... at work, in life, to give more, to take more responsibility for my own states of being, to stop blaming. I try to emulate, and to surpass, to take the best, to avoid copying things that don't work. Most people can't/won't/don't change anything. I know this and am OK with it. I am different. I write, I love, I focus on health. I've been sick, something new. Unexplained, therefore unavoidable. It was a Black Swan.
Here's the thing about love when you're older: everything is fucked up sometimes. Nothing is going to be perfectly right again and you can't recreate whole lives. Structures are in place, however broken. You can't undo things all the way, can't make people feel this or that. "It is how it is." Your partner is neurotic, but differently from how you're neurotic. There will be bad days, many. There will be miscommunications and things you wish could be some other way. You have to have faith. Not in the supernatural, but that the good will prevail, in this miniature universe.
Anniversary epiphany. This love has made me a better person. Not going to say I didn't love before, but the fear made it impossible to tell why I did anything. Out of love, or afraid of the mad face, mean voice, stomping, slamming? Now I do things because I want him to be happy. That's all, simple, pure. And if I expected something, but it can't be that way, or not now, I am okay because I trust him, and I know this is huge and strong, not small and petty. There is no keeping count. I can finally breathe.
Every Saturday I took my girls for swimming lessons. Sat there breathing in the chlorine. Sometimes brought a book, but mostly just watched. I wasn't good at making mommy-friends. Couldn't do the endless kid-chat or house-chat. Just didn't care enough. Then we showered, did hair, got all cute, and went to the coffee place. The girls split a blueberry bagel and juice. I usually had a cafe mocha. This all pretty much wrecked our lunch, but we did it every time, for a year, two years? I don't remember. But it was good. The girls and me.
Memories are tricky. Now that things are (finally) drawing to a legal as well as an emotional close, I've let myself recall how it all really started. Of course I could be delusional, but I feel I never had much of a choice, was pretty well pulled along in this relentless undertow of someone else's life. Now he says it was all a horrific mistake. Well, great. If he hadn't been so aggressive, maybe I would have stepped back and we both could have had a chance to see it wasn't the greatest idea. Oh well, all too late now.
I worry about my daughters now that he has decided to emotionaly abandon them. They are adults (barely), but still. It can't be a good thing. D will be okay because she's had more time, plus had already distanced herself and moved away, has a college life in place. S seems all right, but I wonder if she's simply pretending toughness. She cares about people, has a vulnerable heart. Even though she has so much going on, I wonder. Will there be a day it hits her? "My father surgically cut me out of his life." How will that go?
Trying to finish a story for a contest. Have two more days and am not feeling it. Wrote a hot story on the weekend, edited another one, submitted. Will edit hot story and submit that too. But I really wanted to enter the contest. It is themed and I am floundering. I know what I have to do, but it isn't working. Dammit! I have a plan to make a little extra money via writing romance; it would be extremely helpful. I get periodically panicked thinking of the next four years and what it will cost until S is done.
I freak out too much. Generally things go on as they are. And when they don't, the big surprise is unexpected, not the terrible event I sit and waste time worrying about. So stop! Write the damn story. Make some money. After I send off a few more shorts, I'm going to pick a novel to revise down to 55-60K words and send that in too. I can do this. Just going to focus on romance, no more trying to say something. What do I have to say anyway? Life is tangled and amusing? No one's said that before.
Last time photos thank god. Big fancy house filled with every fucking damn thing. Top end cars all over the street. We shoot by the pool NATCH. And professional photog takes her pics in the little stone nook thing. Jesus F C. Of course it makes me think of him. He has all this too. No one in their right mind would ever give all this up... DO NOT GO THERE. Couldn't write, fell asleep. Up now, ate cottage cheese and tomato. Not emailing. Who cares? Everything will be fine in the morning. Never will have to do this again.
Sometimes when he's away I feel that being alone is truer for me. I love him, and I believe he loves me. And yet... I really can't see how this is going to end up anywhere. Not that he's lying. But... it's so hard to change things. Look how hard it was for me to get untangled and my life was much simpler. I believe he intends to do what he says. But... he has no plans. Without a plan, how is anything going to happen? I can't see it. Things will just go on like this forever and ever.
Something's wrong with the paperwork, probably not a big deal. Very close now. A year ago this seemed impossible. So, it's good! In a week, I submitted two stories, a record. I'm motivated to work on a novel. The girls are going to get sick, bounce back. That is how it is. HE is back ... and I am over the "thing." This will just happen too and I have to expect it until the situation changes. There is no way I can have all fluffy happy bunny emotions in this situation, no way. Doesn't matter how well we get along.
Didn't want this to be diary-like, oh well. I am writing elsewhere. Still in a bad place. Miss the old J, the one who knew me, the one who loved his children. Think of him as dead, like Mom. Dad too. Dead. J1, what can I say? We love each other and the sexual chemistry is spectacular, never had this before. Sometimes it's enough, but not since Saturday, when the McMansion triggered a tsunami of shit. And yesterday he told me how much he was spending on blah de blah. Can't relate. So lost. Will this really go anywhere?
Babbled about faith over a week ago ... apparently I've lost it now. Whatever. Had new epiphany: going to do what I'd do anyway if he wasn't in my life at all. So alone I've transcended loneliness, but it isn't good. Like an anorexic beyond hunger, a false sense of OK. Joined a crafts group and will find more things. Do not want to become even weirder. Divorcing J should make me less weird! Not going to count on J1 for anything much: that is the way to go. Trying not to be so fucking disappointed in everyone all the time.
Sadness, anger, despair ... subdued, fake. Guilt trip email. Truth, relief, sadness, exhaustion, migraine.
Fantasyland. Normal man, relatively unencumbered now. Grocery shopping, cooking, eating, movies, making love, sleeping, chores, Sunday drive, lunch along coast. Later phone call, miss you already, love you. Couple days later, after work, dinner, stay over. Next weekend family barbecue, no issues, everyone pro everyone else's happiness. Relax, enjoy. The good life ... better late than never. Still time for much happiness.
Reality. Sucks sucks sucks sucks. And 40 extra per month for a cat. Why leave one hideously tangled thing for another? I am such an idiot.
It's always about money. Always.
I console myself. Last night, the most beautiful woman in the room had to go home and sleep with a yucky chubby guy with gross poofy hair and a twitchy face. She's a bit older than me, always snazzily overdressed, great jewelry. He makes a fuckload of money; I was at their house years back, fabulous. I wonder if she ever despairs of giving her sexy self to yuck-man? Or maybe they never do it, that can happen. Perhaps he's crazy in bed and they have a wild poly or swing life.
No rapture apparently. I'll still have to figure out my life, ugh. I hate that S thinks I'm being an idiot, that I'm doing the same thing again, letting someone take advantage of me. I wish I could have kept all this secret, but how could I have? There's no way. I'm actually not a liar, not to my kids, not really that much to anyone unless absolutely necessary. That's the thing -- I don't like lying. It's stressful. Just because I'm so good at it doesn't mean I enjoy it. And I never lie to him, though maybe I should.
Everything is good, as good as possible. Except for enormous crushing headaches and neck pain, and a bug (you know there are more). And D's bad back. And S's mono relapses. But I found a cute straw hat! So now I won't get head-burn at graduation like three years ago. And S got a summer job. And D moved out from horrid BF and in with girlfriends. So, good good good. Dad is still slowly deteriorating, but aren't we all? Well, not the girls ... they are still on their upswing, hopefully. Going to try to stay happy! I promised.
Shredding, shedding. So much stuff. By these receipts I see I could have done so much better, but who knew then? Coulda shoulda. Didn't know. Couldn't know. His brainsoup chemical imbalance not my fault. Would not have mattered how perfect I was or wasn't; he changed into another regardless.
This guy. Now. Stop conflating them. This man can be reasoned with. I can tell him everything, anything. He never uses my dark stuff against me. He wants this to work, is looking for ways to make it work. He trusts me. This is actually becoming real, I think.
Saw some friends on the weekend, small group. I can handle this. Funny how the invitation popped up when I was feeling so low, but by the time I went I didn't feel needy any longer. Yet it was good for me. We talked movies and writing, then the job market (for them, not me). Very nice time, warm people, caring. Hadn't seen one in over a year, but the rapport was right there. I don't find this very often. We're going to do it once a month or so. Then my other friend called, lunch next Sunday. Good stuff.
I need a hugely intense intellectual connection via the written word that goes on daily for weeks/months before anything can happen. This is how I am now, because of the internet. Words trigger emotions, which may or may not transform into a physical attraction in person. It's all very iffy and delicate, enormously time-consuming, and most men won't tolerate it, which is fine. I found the best one, hopefully forever, and I won't have to do this again. I can't even relate to discussions about hooking up anymore or anything less than everything. I'd just get a cat.
I have to let it go. Can't save him, can't help him. He might not even be serious. He just talks, always talks, has been talking shit for years, never does anything. He's still there, the same. Taking drugs, going on about worst case scenarios, whatever. I am okay, the kids are okay. If he stops paying me, I'll deal with that then. For all I know, nothing will happen, nothing at all. If anything does, I'll have to deal with Tiki. She can't be here, so I don't know what. Anyway. He isn't my problem, but I still care.
I hate to say this, but it'll be good when S leaves. Good for her, I mean. I've been leaning on her too much, making her my best friend, using her as my sole emotional support sometimes when I'm upset about J and/or J1. She is so smart for 18, plus she's here. She always knows when I'm upset, always wants to talk. I can't stop myself, can't lie. I told her too much about J1 and feel guilty now. I somehow think her knowing what J might do is bad for her, even though he told her himself.
People are selfish. This isn't an indictment, just a fact. I am less selfish than most, which isn't a good thing at all. It's like the guy who keeps waving others on at the stop sign; it actually fucks things up. People expect others to behave selfishly; it's the way the world works. If I acted more in my own self-interest, things would go a lot more smoothly. Probably my mother's fault why I always feel guilty about every stupid little thing. When I finally say fuck it and do what I want, I never feel good about it.
I get so angry with my daughter I can't wait until she leaves even though I know I'll miss her so much. She is so messy. And I'm not insanely obsessive about neatness lately. I don't clean like a maniac. For sure some people would think I don't clean enough. But her room is disgusting. And she has people over so late. She has no regard for my feelings on this, ever. We make plans to do important things and she forgets to show up because she must be with the boyfriend every second. I hate the smell of smoke.
I get so so angry. And irrational. It just floods me, takes over. Funny how I totally control this at work; or at least I think I do. And with strangers I'm generally controlled. I only lose it, let emotions slip through, with the people I care about. But I'm not wholly irrational really. I have been treated poorly at times, even by those who love me and mean well. And I'm sure I've done the same. No one can be perfectly good and caring always, even if that's the intention. Plus sometimes you just don't know how to be.
Wonder how my life would be if I weren't in chronic physical pain. Might be the same, idk. Or maybe I'd have a bunch more energy to get ahead careerwise, or do something on the side. Or maybe I just wouldn't be in such a bad mood half the time. My relationships might be better, or more numerous. Or not. Just don't know.
Wonder how it'd be if I didn't project everything out into infinity. If I could stay in the moment more, not think about how incidental things could affect my future when they probably won't. Just don't know.
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