things change so quickly around here that i forget where i was in the drama-filled soap opera that is becoming 'a week in the life of tea'.
right. so. went to bed fucking wired because i couldn't stop obsessing about all of it. what did he say to the lawyer? what the fuck is he thinking?
i had no idea.
so today, as i was driving in to work, my phone rang. the lawyer. called him back walking in to work after i parked my car.
buckle up, people.
it's about to get crayyyzeee.
first things first. ever has a JOB.
i don't know what kind of a job. or who he is working for.
but he claims to be the new guy at his job, and that he's going to have a bit of a hard time finding the right time for us to meet up, what with working and all.
secondly. ever was told by friends and family (specifically because he can't afford a lawyer) that the quickest way to get this over with is to let the house get foreclosed on.
yep. just stop making the payments that he can't afford now that the roommates don't live there any more.
ah-ah-bullshit! (that was the sound of me sneezing the word bullshit)
if no one is living there, then whose shit was i stumbling over? who was home when i was there?
he wants to be out of the house as soon as possible.
fine. great. perfect, even. get the fuck out. take all your shit with you. all the shit that is yours because you don't have roommates. THAT shit.
what i want to know, is, who the fuck told him to let the house get foreclosed upon??? 'hey, ever. yeah. equity, whatever. money, whatever. just give all of that to the bank and walk away empty handed. THAT'S what you should do.'
was it his crazy fucking mother? i am mostly sure she let a house go into foreclosure once. when you're upside down, sure. why not? let the bank take the loss. that makes sense. but seriously? really? or maybe it is all the people who used to be my 'friends'. because none of them know a thing about money. or equity. or marriage. or divorce.
'lose the house, ever. that will show her! whatabitch!'
let me count the ways... or the things i'm bubbling over with joy about right now.
the one that really gets me?
he doesn't recall signing a loan notice on the money my parents gave us for the house.
yeah, fucker. there wasn't one. they thought we were going to live in the house for 20 years. you want to sell it now and walk away with a chunk of money? pay them back first. then take what is not-even-rightfully yours.
the tone of the email he wrote to my lawyer was so self righteous. and chock full of lies. but that's beside the point.
when WE bought the house TOGETHER. fuck you. i almost bought the house by myself. you just made up the difference, jackass.
he said that he called the insurance company and had the homeowners split off from my car insurance, and that the account was current.
right. because i PAID IT FOR YOU, FUCKER. and because i closed the joint account. because you were ruining my credit. are. still.
and that you are only 30 days past due. try 40. try 20 from foreclosure. idiot.
you know, i can take a lot. but i cannot handle lying.
and he is lying. and it is making me want to harm him physically.
what else was there?
the thing about my parents pissed me off the most.
we all knew we bit off more than we could chew. we were up against a deadline that we wouldn't have met if they didn't bail us out. did you sign a promissary note? no. of course not. had my parents known i wanted to leave him back then, they wouldn't have helped. they would have cut and run instead, and made me figure it out for myself.
ingrateful bastard. takes and takes and takes.
i can't think straight to remember what else was in there.
but i know his lying ass is trying to get out of the court date.
and i won't do that unless he pays the mortgage current in front of me. right then and there.
which he won't do. ever having $2100 on hand? not likely.
i have to be careful. i have to get all this anger out of the way so i can make rational decisions when i'm sitting across from him. i have to cry now, so i don't cry then.
the shrink was good today. she wants me to stop drinking every day. and getting out of bed when i'm not sleeping in it. or in a month, she's going to talk to me about antidepressants. and if you don't know how i feel about that, then let me tell you.
i don't want to take a happy pill. or an anti-stress pill. i just need my life to be easier so i can deal with it in healthy ways.
i was a psych major. i know the deal. and pills mask problems, and then gives you a rash of new ones. i'm not game. but i'm also not proud of the way i'm handling things now. she recommended taking ativan instead of drinking. not that she thinks either is the best option. but a pill is better than drinks plural in her eyes.
i had decided on the way there to write him a letter, and she suggested that as a good way to 'talk' to him. after reading his email, i decided not to call him tonight. because he'll manipulate me and lie, and i don't have to put up with that anymore.
the problem with ever is that i have good intentions. i didn't want to uproot him. so i let him stay. mistake. i trusted that he had leases with tenants, even when he wouldn't give me copies. i trusted that he'd stay on top of everything, because he wanted to stay in the house for two years. meanwhile, six months after that...big mistake. all because i didn't want to rock the boat any more than it was swaying from me jumping overboard.
so i'm going to write him a letter now:
dear ever, you fucking piece of shit.
this will read like a lot of other letters i've written to you in the past.
WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU THINKING?
which is it?
is it that you don't care about the money, so you're willing to let the house go?
or is it that you want more than your share because you feel like i owe you reparations?
who the fuck told you to let the house go? seriously, i want to know. because they are as insane as you are. takes one to know one?
is it your mom? who pops pills and lacks any and all coping mechanisms? is this because i left her sweet baby to fend for himself before he drilled us both into the ground?
seriously, though... are you on drugs? crack or something? because you gave me a fright at the bank the other day. you look like a hollow version of yourself. and you obviously aren't in your right mind. i'd hate to think that it's a sober brain behind the decisions you're making these days.
i'm genuinely worried about you. even though i wish i didn't, i do still care about you. i hate myself for thinking it and feeling it, much less documenting it for all posterity.
but really. are you okay? because you don't look like you are. or write like you are. or talk like you are. it's scary. should i talk to dr dug, or just leave you on your own?
i almost went to talk to him today. to tell him i'm worried about you. but i didn't. because it would show a sign of weakness. and i know that is what you'd exploit if you figured it out for yourself.
really. i hate you. honestly, i do. i hate the person you are now, who lies and takes from people who gave to you more than you will ever, in this lifetime, be able to repay to anyone ever. let alone the people who helped you the most.
you tug on people's heartstrings. my dad was genuinely disappointed that you didn't call him back to talk about the house like you said you wanted to. and telling the lawyer that you talked to him about the 'loan' is such a load of shit.
even your gestures are fucked up. my dad thought you were reaching out to him for advice. instead, you used that call to try to be your alibi.
you don't have a dad. don't abuse mine.
and don't use the fact that you don't have a dad to weasel your way in with mine. pity is a terrible thing.
your mom sucks. and mine shouldn't have sent you a christmas present, but she did, without my knowledge. and you can't even say thanks? i'll shame you, since your mother won't. shame on you. you ought to be ashamed of yourself.
but you probably just think it's because they owe it to you. for spawning a daughter that thought better than to stay with you. that'll show em.
that'll show them, alright... that i had every reason to leave you.
and what's this i hear about you having a job now? is that even true? or did you make that up to try to get out of court dates and mediation?
did you give up on your dream when you clocked in for the first time? don't you wish you'd done it when i was still around? to make me stay longer? to help the two of us survive? because it was so much easier when there were two of us. for you, anyway. i'm glad i stopped killing myself for you. for nothing. you=nothing.
i can't say it enough.
i don't know what your problem is. but having your head buried in the sand for the last six months doesn't mean that you can pull it out one day, and say that you've been trying all along, and that i didn't respond and that the agreement must have gotten lost in the mail.
having your head up your own ass doesn't mean that you can start taking pot shots at the way i've had to handle things since you dropped the ball. or try to claim that it was you who cleaned up the mess.
that big chip on your shoulder? where did that come from? there's no need to get all self-righteous at this point in the juncture. your actions and words show who you are. you won't be able to hide from them.
i am proud of you for manning up and getting a job. eight years later. it's about fucking time! but maybe the phrase 'too little too late' is a better fit.
that's right, ever. you bring all the cliches right out of me. it's horrible.
but not as horrible as you.
and because i want to scream it from the rooftops:
I TOLD YOU SO! i fucking TOLD you so. so suck it!
remember when you implied that you had all this extra money when i left? and when i told you not to get cocky and spend it? and when i told you to have leases for your tenants to protect you and our house? remember that? to get a security deposit, and last month's rent? remember?
because i was right. i was riiiiiiiight.
you were setting yourself up for failure.
unless this is some crazy way to make it seem like you don't collect rent. tax evasion is the best reason for people who are married to file separately. i read it online a few days ago.
either way, it isn't as easy as it looked. you couldn't even keep it up for six months. how was it unfair of me to give up after a year when there were two of us there? fuck you. half the time and you're throwing in the towel. poor ever. his wife left him all alone.
and those three lawyers? the ones you tried to scare me with this summer? what happened to them? free consultations ran out, did they? guess that you understand now why i was so quick to hand money over to one. remember when you mocked me? said i was stupid for throwing my money away. guess you should have taken a page from that book, because look who you're consulting now, loser. my lawyer. on my dime.
fuck you. i hate you. it sucks to be you, i know. but it sucks even more to have been married to you.
that pretty much sums it up. there was so much more there earlier today, driving around and working my ass off. but it's all gone now. i've moved on to other issues. i'm more angry than i was today. i actually cried at the shrink for a second. about ever. about feeling worried for him and still caring for him. i shocked even myself.
my dad called to see how it went, talking to him tonight. and i had to tell him that it didn't. that it won't. because i will not give in to temptation, in an effort to save some cash, to talk to him without the lawyer. because i know he'll only try to upset me and attack me under the guise of being an excellent communicator who is overly compliant.
dad came up with a brilliant plan.
ask ever what he wants, cash wise, to sign away all of his rights to everything, and be out of the picture forever.
and i have to wonder what it's worth. what he would take. to cut and run. and at this point, as long as the house holds its value until i can sell it, that seems like the best possible idea. i will know in a week. it would make the next rash of financial and physical help my parents put into it all the more worth it. because if he doesn't bail, my dad may as well hand him half right then and there. or set fire to it. either way...
my nightcap is poured. it's funny. the way alice described an ex as the one who normalized daytime drinking for her is the way i feel about divorce normalizing drinking in general for me. the drinks are getting stronger. and they still aren't strong enough.
i made a half-joke last night to kit about substituting a glass of vodka for dinner. because i didn't feel like eating, but felt more like getting drunk.
i didn't do it. but i honestly, really, wanted to. i think of all those episodes of intervention where the people's lives are as fucked up as mine can get. and they just drink an entire bottle of something to get past it for the time being. and yes, eventually all that fucked up-edness piles up into something my life would never look like. but sometimes it all starts because of a divorce.
i stayed up chatting with nina until after midnight. about ever stuff, mostly, i guess. and when i got to the point where i wasn't sleepy at all, but had to try to make myself sleep to get up for work today, i got offline. and put on a buffy to try to sleep to.
and i was laying there. and it was 1211. and my heart started beating out of my chest. i couldn't slow it down. and those are the times that ativan was designed for.
so i took one.
and waited, heart racing, for it to kick in.
and about ten minutes later, i realized that i was calm. and upon realizing it, my heart started racing again, thinking 'wow. it worked. ten minutes. not bad... oh, wait! it isn't working, it isn't working!'
and some time after that i was asleep. and i slept until morning. which rarely happens.
it sucked. palpitations at midnight are really not fun. especially not randomly. laying in bed watching fluff on netflix.
i can't remember when now, but at some point nina asked me about the non-anonymity of blogging. about knowing who reads it controlling what is written.
and it is true. in fact, earlier that same night, at the bar with kit, i'd mentioned it.
saying that if i don't mention people, they might think that i don't care about them. i'm very conscientious of it, and i was talking specifically about a recent post. and it was the same one nina had brought up.
what we were saying was that parts of it seemed like afterthoughts. she was saying that the part i wrote about her was more like a bullet list documentation of things that happened.
and what i was trying to explain, but don't know that i did all that well, is that i was really fixated on reconnecting with brownies while i was home. i wrote so much about it in that post, that, by the time i got to the nina portion of my trip, which was only 24 hours long as opposed to four nights, i wrote a few sentences and moved on. i didn't want to exclude her from the post. but my writing energy was sapped. so i included her, and wrapped it up.
and in talking to her about it, i said that i think that i take her friendship for granted. at that point in the trip, i knew i was heading home and that my time was running out quickly. and the majority of the time i had with nina while i was home happened during those ten days when i didn't write, to write about it.
i still haven't gone back to chalk and everything that happened before reconnecting with brownies. but i think that, because i talk to her so much about every aspect of my life, i forget to give her blogger shout outs.
to balance out the ever note of hatred and loathing, i'd like to write a letter to nina. so here it goes:
you are my best friend. i think that i know that you'll always be there for me. i don't expect to have some explosive breakup with you, ever, and so i go through every day hoping that i'll have an interaction with you. and knowing that you will be there for me when i need you.
getting that call from you was exactly what i needed. to not be the only person squawking about what a twisted retarded piece of shit ever is was very helpful.
you get me. you know what to say and when to say it. and because we are so close, you can read between the lines and know that something is amiss. that i need to hear something.
before this volume in my life, you helped me think outside of a shitty situation. and a few months ago, when i was in my delightful self-loathing phase, you wrote a letter to me consisting of 50 reasons why i am lovely. it made me cry in a good way, and i think that letter made me realize just how amazing a friend you are.
i wish that i could have had more time with you. i wish that i could have done better than a 24 hour trip to see you after having only a few days with you distracted by family.
sometimes i think about that letter you wrote me, talking about us being old in neighboring houses, talking about my boy crushes and sipping coffee. how, the day that you sent it, i cried and cried. because the happiness i felt reading that was so far from what i was feeling at the time.
i know that if we lived in the same town, things would be different. i'd see you everyday, and living next door to you wouldn't feel close enough. but i take so much comfort in the fact that distance doesn't factor into our friendship. i mean, it does in a literal sense. but not in how much we still communicate.
you were my first reader, my original fan. i started this blog mostly to keep you informed of what was going on in my life, because i couldn't tell you when ever was around.
and look how far i've come. i have you to thank for that.
sometimes i see you and your family, and i wish that i had your life. something that seems so far from my reach right now, and yet it makes me want it someday. even on the days when i think i'll never love again, and certainly won't find someone to procreate with before my girly parts shrivel up and fall out. your husband is awesome. your kids are two of the coolest people i have ever met. and they're going to be incredible adults someday.
you've known me through all of my shit. all of my glory. you've read just about everything i've ever written, even some journals included. you've known me through every heartbreak and you've smacked me out of my retardedness when i needed to be. and held my hand. and have listened to me cry more times that i can try to count.
when i move home, you will probably get sick of me. but until that happens, i promise to be a better friend to you. i don't know how to repay you for everything you've done for me and given me. but once i think of something as awesome as you deserve, it will be yours. with bells on.
i love you, nina. i don't know where i'd be without you. seriously. you kept my head above water until kit could come along and pull me out of the pool. and you know that i don't take drowning lightly.
i can't wait to be closer. hopefully all this shit ends soon, and i can be the happy girl on the other side that you referred to so long ago.
everything you say stays with me. sometimes i wish you wrote things out for other people to read, because you give fantastic advice. i'd kill for an ounce of your wit and charm. and your 'your mom' jokes.
i'm going to do what i said i'd do this weekend and make a funny video for your kids now.
know that i'm here for you anytime you need me. and the minutes we carve out for each other are what gets me through my day, more often than not.
thank you for never judging me. thank you for never being too far from my reach.
and all was right in the world again.
or, at least, better.
i meant every word i wrote tonight. and my drink is half full, so my sappiness can't be blamed on the liquor.
it's an interesting place to be in, mentally.
i feel like i'm heading for a nervous breakdown. i feel an incredible amount of pressure, complete with unreasonable deadlines, both work and personal. i feel fragile. i feel like, if i started to cry, i might not stop until tomorrow. and then, i'll think of something quirky, and i'll laugh instead, like the crazy person that i am.
'i am gonna make it...through this year...if it kills me.'
i wish the song itself was better. but the mountain goats nailed how i've been feeling for a few months now.
and now for my closing mantra. because i'm just that epic tonight. i'm partially stealing from kit here.
i will survive the next week. and at the end of it, i will still be standing.