i called it.
i knew it.
i was walking to work today, smoking while walking my bike past the methadone clinic that is a daily reminder that i am still technically married to a recovering junkie. and i had a thought. seemed fleeting at the time. it followed another short dizzy spell, and i thought,
'i feel like i'm going to have a nervous breakdown'.
nothing had happened. i woke up an hour before my alarm, stressed on work. not wanting to get out of bed.
i had a fun night last night, with three newer friends, watching the grossest phils game ever broadcast. there were snot rockets galore, spit and dribbling spit, nail biting. you name it. nasty.
it seemed silly to think it at the time i was walking.
i dismissed it, after wondering what would happen if i really did have a breakdown.
and went into work. i wrote up three employees because i had to mop the floor again on friday. because one didn't do it, the other two refused. i'd had enough.
it was crazy busy. i made it through most of the day without a hiccup.
but at 430 i missed a call on both of my phones, work and personal.
and wondered who would try so hard to get into touch with me. so i called the number back.
it seems that ever has decided not to pay the mortgage this month.
i've been checking on it. he always pays late, despite that dating site line so many months back stating something to contrary. his defense to me is, 'it's not late until after the tenth.' so he pays it consistently on the tenth.
i can only assume he is doing this because of the settlement agreement.
or because it took him seven months to figure out that paying the mortgage isn't easy.
somehow, i always managed to pay it on the 20th, two weeks ahead of the due date.
how he cannot have the money with roommates covering the whole thing is beyond me.
except that he has a new release.
priorities. business first. or non-profit, rather, first. ego second. everything else third.
i don't know.
i sat on the phone, hoping it was a mistake, and while the woman had me on eternal hold, i logged into the account online. and sure enough, the last payment received was september 10th.
i kicked myself for not following up after i looked, around the 5th of this month, to make sure. i just assumed he was doing what he had been doing every other month.
when i heard the recording for gmac, i panicked. and said aloud, at work, 'you've gotta be fucking KIDDING me'.
kim looked at me and said, 'oh no'.
so the lady gets back on the phone asking me if i'm prepared to make a payment over the phone.
i explained that no, i'm not. that i left the home seven months ago, that my husband has two roommates who signed leases and that he is responsible for the mortgage, and that we are in the process of getting the divorce now, and that it is in the agreement that he is solely responsible for the mortgage.
and gave them his number.
the lady didn't seem to fully understand me, but i didn't understand her either. i told her to call him for the payment, and hung up.
in my panic, i called my lawyer. that's what he's there for, right?
i asked if he'd heard anything. he said no. said he finally heard from the attorney ever name-dropped, and that he is not representing him, and cannot say anything because ever isn't his client.
so i told him that i was in a panic, and told him about the mortgage.
he's drafting a letter that says that, if he doesn't make this payment, we'll request an emergency hearing with the judge for our settlement hearing, and request that the house be put on the market immediately.
which only made me feel a little bit better.
i'm so stupid. i wanted to call kit. i wanted to call my mom. because i was having a freakout at work. i fucked up five orders, and then left to come home, in a daze.
i didn't call my mom because she warned me not to leave the house after i'd already moved out. she warned me that, if i'm not there, i can't know what is happening. and that he would probably pull a stunt like this.
not to mention asking me every month if i'd been keeping up with the mortgage to make sure he was paying it. which i had been. with a false sense of security, because until now, it was all fine.
so i didn't call her.
kit was nice enough to not say i told you so. but helped me try to make some sort of a plan, in a way. and looked into what i can do to try to save my credit as he drags it down without my knowing.
i came home to an email from crystal. bitching about the mopping. saying that they just don't have time.
and i lost it.
who the fuck do these people think they are? better yet, what kind of a person do they think that i am?
so i wrote her back:
'i'll come check out the situation in the morning and afternoon later this week if i need to, watch everyone work and see just how bad it is.
i bet i can find ten minutes in both shifts where the work can be done.
we have all the same work to do at (my store), and have been doing about as much business as (their store), and we manage to get it all done, clean the store, grind the coffee, and everything is stocked. and no one complains, because it is a team effort.
if everyone just cleans up their own messes and sets each other up with prep, this won't be a problem. but it makes us look unprofessional to say 'well, they didn't do it so i'm not doing it'. i'm sick of it. it's like being in elementary school and i'm not going to put up with it from you, dan, quinn, or ashley.
it took me five minutes to mop on friday, and five minutes to get the mop and put it back. if you two can't find ten minutes in your morning to mop, then you have a problem. i mopped at 230 and the floor stayed clean after that. the floors get dirty mostly in the morning, because it's not as hectic in the afternoon.
i'll pay attention to sales in the morning vs afternoon and the labor being spent on the shifts.
and if dan is leaving you with extra sidework to do for him so he can leave early, then i'll address that as well. i'm working around him needing to leave earlier than anyone has ever left. he needs to do his part if he wants the morning shift.
i'll see you tomorrow. '
and then started baking banana bread. for a bake off ashley and i challenged each other to, in an effort to use the too-ripe bananas at work.
i didn't have milk, so i went to the store. came back. baked.
and, for the record... my oven still sucks. so the muffins suck. i'm attempting a round pan cake version because the muffins were awful, but i don't have high hopes for that, either.
it was a nice attempt. and i felt better while i was putting the batter together.
i realized that i can't just stop being nice. and put an end to people walking all over me overnight.
but they have all been warned. and they're going to get it. and i have told them more than once now. so for that set of people, i can stop being nice.
and as for ever...
he is only hurting himself.
the talk i've been having with myself in my head all night goes something like this:
the house won't get foreclosed upon.
i know about it now, so i'll pay attention. and check daily until i see that it has been handled.
a judge isn't going to let him stay there if he can't make the payments.
he is only hurting his own case by not making this payment.
it is not my responsibility, even though it still technically is.
kit told me that i can write a letter to the creditors, stating that my husband is at fault, and to basically file a complaint so that i am not held accountable for his actions.
like the parents of an irresponsible child.
'sorry, transunion. my man-child husband thinks he's being funny. please don't punish me. i'm trying desperately to divorce him.'
so now i wait a week.
check on the mortgage daily, i guess.
and wait to hear from the lawyer about the letter he sent.
maybe some day ever will realize that pulling these stunts isn't going to bring me back. that trying to get at me now isn't going to do anything productive. and that his temper tantrums and sob story about his wife not loving him and leaving him isn't going to help, in light of his total and utter lack of responsibility. if anything, i think it will just go to show that i didn't leave because i wasn't in love with him anymore. but that i left because i needed a partner, not an anchor, and that he is incapable of being a productive and responsible adult.
i just want him to admit that he can't qualify for the mortgage for legitimate reasons.
and yeah, it sucks that i left him. but he can't just go on living there like he has been, without thinking that my leaving will impact him.
my mom was right. again. i should have stayed and made him leave.
he fucked up when he didn't pull his weight and man up. and now that i'm gone, he is still living in that bubble. the one that protects him from getting a job. a real job. and working for a living. like every other adult has to. to pay his bills. on time. and to take care of himself.
my days of helping him were more than they should have been. and only i am to blame for that. i was stupid. i was thinking with my heart, not my brain. and against everyone else's better judgment, i left the house, and hoped for the best on my way out the door.
maybe in the same way, i can't just go on living this way, either. i can't just walk away from him and the house, and think that everything will be okay and handled because i have a lawyer. i can't be free so easily.
i can't just think, 'i warned him. he knows better. he'll make the right decisions.'
if his goal was to stress me out and make me worry and have panic attacks, then he has succeeded.
congratulations, ever. just when i thought you couldn't outdo yourself, you did. i commend you. job well done, asshole. you have really done it this time.
i don't know how i will make the payment if he really won't or can't. all i know is that i can't lose my house. i won't let that happen.
kit seems to think he just forgot to pay it. but i know that he pays too much attention to dates with his work, so that doesn't fly with me. he has a two month calendar on the wall.
i think he overstretched his financial commitments, with the release from this past friday night. i think that, as i warned him on multiple occasions, his income fluctuates too much to get cocky and think he has it all under control all the time.
i wasn't kidding when i told him to put money aside for the mortgage every month, because his income isn't guaranteed.
but did he listen? no. he was too busy telling me how much extra money he has laying around and how i must have been spending it all when i was there, because since i left, there's a lot more to go around.
and now? well, now, i don't know what is happening.
it's the anger talking.
this post is probably smoking. or scalding. smoldering. something like that.
despite all of this, i still can't cry. and one pbr and one monkey after all that went down today, i feel nothing. i mean, anger, yes. but manageable.
and i can breathe again, which is a relief. because watching a few minutes of 'mean girls' at kit's earlier tonight shouldn't have made me feel claustrophobic. it shouldn't have made me feel like i couldn't breathe.
i apologized when i said that i had to leave. it was that same 'get out!' feeling from this weekend.
mom's packages strike again. she sent one to kit today. i knew about it, but not what she had put together. all she said was that they were so grateful that kit is in my life, and has helped me through all of this so. and mom wanted to do something nice. so she sent her a care package.
and i had to go see what she had done.
and it goes without saying.
my mom is the best.
but i just said it.
back to the other stuff. i think that this house thing is why i've been dreaming about going there. and dreaming of ever giving me boxes of my shit. i think it's why i've been dreaming about going through the house with realtors. i think it's why i've been having panic attacks and dizzy spells.
i think that i sensed it coming.
which does mean that i'm admitting there's more truth than i was previously willing to admit, when it comes to that intuition book.
i should be reading it again. but getting this post out of my system was more important to me.
it's raining outside, so i should probably have one last smoke and read for a few minutes.
i don't know what is going to happen when i try to go to sleep. or what will happen when i fall asleep.
kim asked me about my ankle tattoo today at work, so i told her about the ghost. and that was before the phone call. so i thought that i'd have those dreams tonight.
but now ever and house nightmares seem the more likely route.
and speaking of dreams.
since the post about the nazi cruise, and the end of the world nightmare this weekend that i told kit about, i've now inspired two different nightmares. one for kit and one for nina.
i'm now writing them down when i wake up, but not posting it.
i try to only post the ones that seem relevant. and i know how awful they are for me when i have them. the last thing i want to do is inspire armageddon nightmares.
nina dreamed that i was being drowned.
i guess in a way, figuratively, i am.
it does feel like drowning, sometimes. and i don't use that metaphor lightly.
sometimes i forget to breathe, or feel like i can't.
and today was the most intense stress i've felt in a while.
i can't explain it by saying what it is. but i can give contextual descriptions, i guess.
when i hung up with the mortgage people, i was shaking. out of anger. when i hung up with the lawyer, i was shaking. i guess from nerves.
i don't remember my ride home. i just know that i got here, got off my bike, and sat on my stoop to smoke while the fire department put out a fire at the house across the street. there were two firetrucks and a fireman with full sleeve tattooes, or i might not have noticed.
i carried my bike up and kit called and i talked to her for nine minutes, but i don't remember much of it.
the last time i remember feeling this way was the day that i met ever at subway. i came home and started to feel like i had to call someone. kit. my mom. nina. kenna. someone who could calm me down.
and that day, i called all of those people. and then felt like an idiot when i calmed down. because it just upset my mom and scared kenna (who couldn't talk anyway and didn't answer). and afterwards, i kicked myself for telling either of them.
so today, i had the exact same feeling. but i didn't act on it.
my mom called, and i actually refused to tell her what happened with ever. i told her i'd talk to her about it at the end of the week, after i'd had some time.
and i really almost called kenna. but i knew what she'd be doing at 530, so i didn't even bother.
i think that, more than anything, right now, i just wish that i could take a mental leave of absence. i know that i'm half-assing my job right now. that i'm good at doing the day to day shit, but that in an overall way, i'm sucking at my job right now. i can't focus or concentrate because of the noise of the divorce in the back of my mind at all times.
and most of the time, it is nothing.
but days like today seriously make me think that i'm headed for a nice room in a nice hospital on a valium drip. where everyone is proud that i can decide what i want for lunch.
i hope that when it happens, if it does happen, that i don't snap and not come back the way ever's sister did.
because all anyone said after her breakdown was, 'she'll never be the same again. part of her didn't come back from that'.
i just hope that doesn't happen to me.
and if i forget to call the shrink tomorrow, i'm going to slap myself.
because if there's one thing i know, it's that i need help right now. and if i keep forgetting to call, i'll never get in there to talk.
i'm at the point now where i think i should ask for something to take when i'm having an attack.
but i know that drinking daily, mixed with some kind of downer, is not okay. so maybe i just keep going along this way.
the panic attacks only last for a few minutes.
and taking a pill won't make the problems go away.
forget i said anything at all.
tomorrow can only be better.
i'm reminded that this week was supposed to be better than last.
and i laugh, in spite of myself.
i might actually be cracking up...