i don't have words for the way i feel.
all i can do is say what i'm doing, i guess.
first of all, i woke up to birds chirping. it seems that spring is officially here.
so that was both nice and annoying. nice, if it had been maybe 9 am when they started chirping, but i'm nearly positive that i was up between 630 and 7 with them.
then, i was laying in bed for about an hour. tossing and turning in a panic. again. i was thinking about work, but then it switched over to today, and where i am and why i am here at all.
yesterday was the strangest day. it was one of the hardest things i've had to do, but not as hard as i thought it would be, if that makes any sense at all.
i have pretty much been in a state of panic for about a week now. every morning i wake up with my heart racing. too much stress, too much to worry about. i hope i don't give myself an ulcer.
so i came home from work, and started packing and doing laundry. i was moving so quickly, and i was worried that i was forgetting everything, but went room by room and checked each maybe three times before i finally took all the boxes downstairs.
i never thought my life would fit so neatly into about 30 boxes and four milk crates.
but it really did. i left a sizeable stack of boxes at the house. for maybe two months. because i didn't want to have to move them twice and i don't need any of it now. but i still might bring them. just to be done with it.
so i had to clean out the car before i could load the car for the first trip. and ever looked outside, and i caught his eye for a second before he shut the door and went inside. i think he was surprised that i was really leaving.
and the whole time, i just had this feeling like all the neighbors were watching me, and knowing what was happening. i was loading the car in broad daylight. and it was mortifying.
'she's leaving her husband. they JUST moved in here.'
i could almost hear the words. it was embarrassing.
so i managed to load the car at a nice clip. stacked and packed to the brim.
i was dreading starting to pack it, but once i started it, i went as quickly as i could move, just trying to get it over with. up and down stairs, into the car. locking and unlocking the car, opening and closing the front door.
i just kept thinking, if i take a break, or go back inside and sit down, i'm going to stop. and that can't happen.
so when the last box was in, i stood outside the car for a second, looking at the front door of the house. and locked the door and drove to the apartment.
i parked illegally, which encouraged a speedy unload. i was really panicky at that point. i think i started to shake a few days ago and haven't stopped yet. i'm still shaking. my hands just constantly tremble.
so everything was in. my head was pounding, which i only realized this morning was from a lack of hormones, as it was my first day of the week off of birth control (the equivalent of the sugar pills in the pack). which gives me migraines. i only remembered this morning when i woke up with another killer headache.
so. my legs were all wobbly after bringing things down from the second floor of the house, and into the car, and up to the second floor of the apartment.
smoked on the way back to the house, for the second load, which had yet to be packed.
and packed so fast, it was a race, definitely. i wanted to get out. i wanted to be done. i was so exhausted from a physical day of moving stuff around between stores at work, and then with all the packing and carrying boxes up and down and loading. just BEAT.
so i packed and made my second trip's pile by the front door. ever had been hiding out upstairs so as to not have to see what was happening.
i'd told him on monday after kit signed her lease that it was a done deal, and that i'd be out on friday.
so he had plenty of warning.
and every day, with the 'so you're still leaving me on friday?'
anyways, i was packing and he started telling me little things he'd thought of, like taking the ihome for my ipod. we also have a sound dock, which was the one i wanted. so he agreed that i could take that one. and i told him i was taking the alarm clock because i'm used to it and need it for work - he does not.
and he said he was going out with friends, and told me where he was going so i wouldn't go there and bump into him. and kept asking me if i was just staying in and drinking. repeatedly. to which i said, i don't know, but probably.
everything was fine.
then he told me he needed the car, so i was trying to figure out how to get the car there and my bike to the apartment. and today was the festival, so i knew i wouldn't want to deal with it before that.
he was leaving, to avoid what i was doing. i gave him a hug, neither of us said a word.
he said he needed the car. so i told him i'd bring it back.
and then i made the mistake of telling him that i was going to the festival, and that i'd bring the car back after my second trip so i didn't have to worry about it.
and he just kept saying that he can't believe how much i've changed, and that he can't believe how much i drink now, and some random jab about my new 'party clubbing lifestyle' (i go dancing one night a month, and pointed that out).
and i countered by telling him that i have taken a crutch with beer, in the same way that he incessantly smokes weed. and that when i started to drink, i stopped ragging on him about the weed. which i did. i have not mentioned weed since before we decided to end this mess.
and of course, he had nothing to say to that. only that drinking impairs my judgment and that he's worried about me.
and i let it go.
he said that a bunch of his friends (the ones i'm not crazy about) are going to the festival also, i said, 'oh great. my favorite people...i'll see them there.'
and he just shook his head, that i'd decided to go i guess.
and as he was walking out, from the first floor, he called up to me. 'hey, tea?'
and i yelled back 'yeah?'
then, 'have fun at your bro party.'
to which i replied, 'yeah, i will. because that is why i'm going.'
and he shut the door and locked it. and that was that.
once he was gone, i found somehow a higher gear to kick myself into. and went about loading the car.
our dog just watched me, and it was killing me. she just whined while i came in and out with all the boxes.
i cried once on thursday night, the last night in the house, because she'd come in to curl up and sleep with me. and also on friday once the last box was in the foyer. when i told her goodbye i totally lost it. i told her that i was sorry and to be good and to eat her food. it broke my fucking heart.
and it was over.
i checked the house once more, and headed over with the last trip.
unloaded everything by the time kit showed up, and helped with the mattress up the stairs. she brought over kickass tools to make easier work of the ikea assembling.
i actually slept pretty well last night, surprisingly.
and woke up with the birds and the sun, and worked alot around the apartment, organizing, unpacking, writing this...
so.
i'm already doing some pretty funny things.
i keep speaking in terms of 'we'. it's pretty odd. i wonder how long it will take until i shake that habit.
also, i keep thinking/talking about ever in the past tense. the way you do when someone dies. which is really strange and uncomfortable, also. because obviously he's not dead. but the things he has done and said are now a part of my past, instead of my present, instead of my future.
the refrigerator in the new place hums as it kicks on and off. and when it's on, it makes this funny whistling noise, which sounds like distant roman candles.
which is pretty cool. because i love the fourth of july.
bitch night. march 4
this is probably my last night.
in this house.
in this bed.
and i can't honestly believe it. because i still have so much left to pack/move/do.
but in all likelihood, this is the end of this for me.
it's pretty sad.
i've been having panic attacks, pretty much daily. all week long.
i had one last night. in drawing class.
it was really unsettling.
kit and i had dinner and a beer before class. we were talking. everything was fine.
went to class. we had our first model. she was really tall, really skinny. which made her easier to draw, i think. when there's just skin over a skeleton, you know...
in any case, we did a ton of 1 minute gesture drawings. and i was nailing them left and right. i was pretty happy with the majority of them, even though some were unfinished.
and then he went into this lecture about the seven and a half versus eight head proportion, saying that every body is essentially one or the other, that eight is just easier to deal with, being an even number and all. and where each point on the body is, in that alignment. that a person is eight heads tall.
which was really interesting. and he kept saying 'pubic' which was making us giggle. after having stared at a naked lady for 20 minutes, giggling at 'pubic' seemed kindof ironic.
anyways, so i followed that part. i've taken figure drawing classes, and had never heard of that before. this class is all about proportion, but anyways. so all was well, about an hour and a half in.
and then, he started talking about making cylinders. one for the head, one for the ribs, one for the pelvis, one for the upper and lower arms, one for the upper and lower legs. and i watched him draw it perfectly.
i followed, but i couldn't duplicate it. and i started to panic. and all i wanted was out of the class.
i tried to tell myself that everything was okay, that it's wednesday, and that this class has one purpose: to chill me the fuck out.
so, after about an hour of him talking, i was growing increasingly uncomfortable. and then we only had maybe 20 more minutes of the model before the class was over.
and i started and erased so many drawings. i just couldn't get it right. and he wanted us to draw all these proportion markings, and all these cylinders. and i just kept saying 'fuck it. i'm going to do more gestures, because i was fine.' but it was like i was broken. and i couldn't go back. nothing i drew after that came out right.
so i toughed it out, and packed up and left.
went to kit's. had a beer. and she was great. telling me that he's going to be okay. that i'm going to be okay. that it's going to get better soon.
that everything is going to work out. that he's going to be a better person, stronger. that i am, too. and that i'm going to be happy.
and i know all of these things. but she was trying to calm me down, and it did help. her words were so slow and calm and deliberate. i couldn't have handled going home otherwise.
so i got home, and into bed. ever wasn't even here, he was out at a show.
so i tried to sleep, which took a while. and then woke up at 115 when he got in and that dog went nuts. fell asleep eventually again, woke up again. all night like that. thinking i was late for work, or because the sun was filtering into the windows.
my phone rang at 620, some delivery douchebag calling me for no good reason.
i know i fell asleep after that, because i was dreaming, but it was work dreaming, so it didn't feel like sleep.
very interrupted.
long day.
and tonight, i did a few things.
i dropped off a package for ever. and it was just too close to ikea.
i've been wanting to go, but ikea is so fun for me, that i felt like i shouldn't allow it yet.
i'm afraid of being excited, i guess.
because when it comes down to it, i'm really dreading leaving this house. i'm really dreading moving out.
tomorrow.
but there are things i need to function.
and i had to have them. and what better place than ikea?
so i went in. and i had specific things in mind. and some other things that i didn't intend to get that wound up in the cart.
i needed little night stand and end tables. i needed lamps for the tables.
lack tables are pretty much one of my favorite things ever. so i got two black ones. one for the living room. one for the kitchen.
the lamps are pretty cool. little white frosted glass rectangles. you set the bulbs down inside, so it makes this really soft and glowy light.
i got a bathmat. they only had white ones, which really surprised me, but i rolled with it.
i like having a little trash can in each room, so i got one white one and two black ones. because i didn't want red.
i got a welcome mat for the outside of the door. boring bristly brown.
i got a set of frying pans and sauce pans. i love their non-stick stuff, and felt bad taking the only good one with me. so i'll leave that one, and take the new ones.
i got a dish drying rack, and silverware because ours is hodge podge and ghetto, so i'm starting fresh.
and i got the makings for a desk. just a flat plank of white, with black metal legs.
and i got this tiny little plant. because i thought it would bring a little cheer to the place. fresh air, even.
and what i realized is that almost every single thing i got was black and white.
i realized that i'm buying things for my first apartment. which sounds insane.
even though it's more of a halfway house.
i told kit last night that i'm glad to have this apartment for two months. because the first two months are going to suck. and it's actually pretty cool to have that happen in a place that i won't be living in for the next year.
and what's more, once she moves into it in two months, it will be so completely different, that i hope to not have any of those old horrible associations with the apartment itself.
and once i get these two shitty months behind me, i look forward to falling in love with a place, and moving into it. it will give me time to save up (hopefully) for some furniture, because i won't have any until then. i would kindof like to move the green couch in there, just to have a couch to sit on. but i don't feel like moving it, and i guess i also don't have a way to move it.
i'm taking an old futon mattress pad with me. i'll be sleeping on the floor most likely. unless i buy the crappy wood frame that can go under it. i don't know what's worse.
and i have all the bedding i could ever want or need.
so tomorrow i work a little, but also tackle the huge monster task of packing my bedroom (clothes like woah) and the bathroom and the rest of the kitchen.
i'm only taking things that my grandmother made (quilts, afghans, etc), my aunt made (dishes from our wedding presents), and things i know i'll need (pans, etc.). the rest is all staying.
and i wish i didn't have to take it all, because really i won't be needing it in the next two months.
but i don't know if i can go through this again in a couple months. i will have to take things every time i come here to help out with ever's business. but i want the majority out now.
so i'm going to have a shit ton of shit that i won't ever need, just for the sake of taking it now rather than later.
and this is all just so surreal. i can't believe that this is my last night in our queen size bed.
it will be good for him to sleep in this bed, get a good night's sleep in it when i am gone.
but it's just sad.
very cold. very lonely. before it even has to be.
and we had a good day today. he was joking and laughing, we were talking with mutual friends who all know what is going on. we were brainstorming and working together. all was well.
then i went on the shipping/ikea/boxes trip.
and when i came home with boxes, and he saw them, temper tantrum.
he has this one line. every single day. he says, 'so you're still moving out on friday?' or 'so you're still leaving me?'
i guess he alternates between the two.
and today i said, 'you're still not doing anything to persuade me to stay?'
because that is true. asking me if i'm leaving isn't doing anything to try to get me to stay.
and you know what i expect tomorrow?
i expect him to throw himself at my feet. begging me not to leave him. begging me to stay. crying, begging. please please please don't leave me.
and that is what i get sad about. like he's a child. like he can only get that far into realizing what is happening, and never seeing the bigger picture. wanting the instant gratification of his tears equating to me staying.
kit wants him to see me leave. she wants me to see him when i leave. in the name of closure.
and i honestly want to leave when he's not home. or when he's not awake.
i want it to be over with. like a thief in the night. i don't know what tomorrow will bring.
and i'm scared. and i'm going to panic, i know. because the last week has shown me that.
and i'm going to leave.
and then i'm going to take off my rings. i think i might wear the band on my other hand, pinky finger. but i don't really know.
they will probably both end up in the box they came in.
and then i will drink. and kit will take care of me (i hope she doesn't want to divorce ME when this is all said and done), and i'll sleep. and wake up. and have breakfast.
and i'll somehow manage to be really excited and sad at the same time. hopeful/expectant and trying not to get my hopes up. depressed and single.
and i'll look for coffee without looking for coffee. and i'll either be genuinely surprised to see him, or genuinely surprised to not see him.
and then all i can do is hope that he had nothing to do with this.
and like, how when i went to florida, i hoped to see him and him have no effect on me, i hope that i don't see him this time. because it's going to be too fresh. too new. i'm going to be too vulnerable.
because what do you say when you literally just left your husband the day before? literally just took off your rings the night before? literally just started a new chapter of your life less than 24 hours before?
what ridiculous timing.
seriously. unacceptable.
the only thing is...the beer. it will save me. it will be such a wonderful distraction. whether there is coffee or no coffee. there will be beer.
and i don't want to have to think about the possibility that there could be any more disappointment for one weekend.
because wouldn't it be something to have just one drink? just one.
just one drink. that's all i want.
and then in my double-drunkenness, to ask:
'why didn't you kiss me?'
and to put it to rest.
once and for all.
and not let that be one of the things that will keep me up at night over the next two months. when i second guess every single thought and decision. every motivation.
i took the train to work today, and wrote in my paper journal on my way.
and i realized something.
i'm about to undo some things that i've been wishing i could undo for years.
my short list of regrets.
and instead now, of living with this one decision, day in and day out. being so unhappy for so long.
now i can really let go of that. i mean, it's not like taking it back. i can never truly go back to my life before ever came along.
but to not have to say anymore that i'm living with my decision for the rest of my life.
and that is really profound. or it seems that way to me.
i can re-write history.
starting now.
and i realized something else.
when i went home in december, i put that timer on this page. decide to decide, set to go off on my birthday.
and i knew that i'd know by summer. that i'd have already decided by then.
but i never, EVER, could have guessed that i'd know by february 14th.
never in a million years.
and one more thing, in closing, because this is getting a little too long-winded, even for me!
there's this building. it was built in 1888, same year as our house.
and this development company bought it to demolish it, to build condos. naturally.
and it needed to come down. it was in complete disrepair. hadn't been used in probably 40 years.
but they've been literally chipping away at it. i think it's three stories high. from the day the fences went up, until now, it's been about a month.
and they just chip away at it, every day. and i've been photo-documenting the whole thing. it was this sad thing happening before my eyes. i pass it every day on my way to work, when i take the train.
and it has always felt like vultures tearing away at a carcass.
so it was comprised of three huge brick buildings. and they were connected in a c shape.
and it's been this slow progression. every day, another section is gone.
and the timing has been unreal, because it started a week before we decided to call it quits.
and now, the day before i leave, the tiniest section of the building is left.
and i had this feeling, maybe a week ago, that it would be done on the day i moved out. that the deterioration of the building-carcass would be the ultimate metaphor for my crumbling marriage. into dust. into the ground from which we came.
and sure enough, if there isn't the tiniest sliver left for tomorrow, or possibly the day after... the building will be gone when i am.
on that note, i'm going to attempt to sleep.
i don't know how.
but i'm going to try. i'm going to need all of my strength for the day i'm living tomorrow.
in this house.
in this bed.
and i can't honestly believe it. because i still have so much left to pack/move/do.
but in all likelihood, this is the end of this for me.
it's pretty sad.
i've been having panic attacks, pretty much daily. all week long.
i had one last night. in drawing class.
it was really unsettling.
kit and i had dinner and a beer before class. we were talking. everything was fine.
went to class. we had our first model. she was really tall, really skinny. which made her easier to draw, i think. when there's just skin over a skeleton, you know...
in any case, we did a ton of 1 minute gesture drawings. and i was nailing them left and right. i was pretty happy with the majority of them, even though some were unfinished.
and then he went into this lecture about the seven and a half versus eight head proportion, saying that every body is essentially one or the other, that eight is just easier to deal with, being an even number and all. and where each point on the body is, in that alignment. that a person is eight heads tall.
which was really interesting. and he kept saying 'pubic' which was making us giggle. after having stared at a naked lady for 20 minutes, giggling at 'pubic' seemed kindof ironic.
anyways, so i followed that part. i've taken figure drawing classes, and had never heard of that before. this class is all about proportion, but anyways. so all was well, about an hour and a half in.
and then, he started talking about making cylinders. one for the head, one for the ribs, one for the pelvis, one for the upper and lower arms, one for the upper and lower legs. and i watched him draw it perfectly.
i followed, but i couldn't duplicate it. and i started to panic. and all i wanted was out of the class.
i tried to tell myself that everything was okay, that it's wednesday, and that this class has one purpose: to chill me the fuck out.
so, after about an hour of him talking, i was growing increasingly uncomfortable. and then we only had maybe 20 more minutes of the model before the class was over.
and i started and erased so many drawings. i just couldn't get it right. and he wanted us to draw all these proportion markings, and all these cylinders. and i just kept saying 'fuck it. i'm going to do more gestures, because i was fine.' but it was like i was broken. and i couldn't go back. nothing i drew after that came out right.
so i toughed it out, and packed up and left.
went to kit's. had a beer. and she was great. telling me that he's going to be okay. that i'm going to be okay. that it's going to get better soon.
that everything is going to work out. that he's going to be a better person, stronger. that i am, too. and that i'm going to be happy.
and i know all of these things. but she was trying to calm me down, and it did help. her words were so slow and calm and deliberate. i couldn't have handled going home otherwise.
so i got home, and into bed. ever wasn't even here, he was out at a show.
so i tried to sleep, which took a while. and then woke up at 115 when he got in and that dog went nuts. fell asleep eventually again, woke up again. all night like that. thinking i was late for work, or because the sun was filtering into the windows.
my phone rang at 620, some delivery douchebag calling me for no good reason.
i know i fell asleep after that, because i was dreaming, but it was work dreaming, so it didn't feel like sleep.
very interrupted.
long day.
and tonight, i did a few things.
i dropped off a package for ever. and it was just too close to ikea.
i've been wanting to go, but ikea is so fun for me, that i felt like i shouldn't allow it yet.
i'm afraid of being excited, i guess.
because when it comes down to it, i'm really dreading leaving this house. i'm really dreading moving out.
tomorrow.
but there are things i need to function.
and i had to have them. and what better place than ikea?
so i went in. and i had specific things in mind. and some other things that i didn't intend to get that wound up in the cart.
i needed little night stand and end tables. i needed lamps for the tables.
lack tables are pretty much one of my favorite things ever. so i got two black ones. one for the living room. one for the kitchen.
the lamps are pretty cool. little white frosted glass rectangles. you set the bulbs down inside, so it makes this really soft and glowy light.
i got a bathmat. they only had white ones, which really surprised me, but i rolled with it.
i like having a little trash can in each room, so i got one white one and two black ones. because i didn't want red.
i got a welcome mat for the outside of the door. boring bristly brown.
i got a set of frying pans and sauce pans. i love their non-stick stuff, and felt bad taking the only good one with me. so i'll leave that one, and take the new ones.
i got a dish drying rack, and silverware because ours is hodge podge and ghetto, so i'm starting fresh.
and i got the makings for a desk. just a flat plank of white, with black metal legs.
and i got this tiny little plant. because i thought it would bring a little cheer to the place. fresh air, even.
and what i realized is that almost every single thing i got was black and white.
i realized that i'm buying things for my first apartment. which sounds insane.
even though it's more of a halfway house.
i told kit last night that i'm glad to have this apartment for two months. because the first two months are going to suck. and it's actually pretty cool to have that happen in a place that i won't be living in for the next year.
and what's more, once she moves into it in two months, it will be so completely different, that i hope to not have any of those old horrible associations with the apartment itself.
and once i get these two shitty months behind me, i look forward to falling in love with a place, and moving into it. it will give me time to save up (hopefully) for some furniture, because i won't have any until then. i would kindof like to move the green couch in there, just to have a couch to sit on. but i don't feel like moving it, and i guess i also don't have a way to move it.
i'm taking an old futon mattress pad with me. i'll be sleeping on the floor most likely. unless i buy the crappy wood frame that can go under it. i don't know what's worse.
and i have all the bedding i could ever want or need.
so tomorrow i work a little, but also tackle the huge monster task of packing my bedroom (clothes like woah) and the bathroom and the rest of the kitchen.
i'm only taking things that my grandmother made (quilts, afghans, etc), my aunt made (dishes from our wedding presents), and things i know i'll need (pans, etc.). the rest is all staying.
and i wish i didn't have to take it all, because really i won't be needing it in the next two months.
but i don't know if i can go through this again in a couple months. i will have to take things every time i come here to help out with ever's business. but i want the majority out now.
so i'm going to have a shit ton of shit that i won't ever need, just for the sake of taking it now rather than later.
and this is all just so surreal. i can't believe that this is my last night in our queen size bed.
it will be good for him to sleep in this bed, get a good night's sleep in it when i am gone.
but it's just sad.
very cold. very lonely. before it even has to be.
and we had a good day today. he was joking and laughing, we were talking with mutual friends who all know what is going on. we were brainstorming and working together. all was well.
then i went on the shipping/ikea/boxes trip.
and when i came home with boxes, and he saw them, temper tantrum.
he has this one line. every single day. he says, 'so you're still moving out on friday?' or 'so you're still leaving me?'
i guess he alternates between the two.
and today i said, 'you're still not doing anything to persuade me to stay?'
because that is true. asking me if i'm leaving isn't doing anything to try to get me to stay.
and you know what i expect tomorrow?
i expect him to throw himself at my feet. begging me not to leave him. begging me to stay. crying, begging. please please please don't leave me.
and that is what i get sad about. like he's a child. like he can only get that far into realizing what is happening, and never seeing the bigger picture. wanting the instant gratification of his tears equating to me staying.
kit wants him to see me leave. she wants me to see him when i leave. in the name of closure.
and i honestly want to leave when he's not home. or when he's not awake.
i want it to be over with. like a thief in the night. i don't know what tomorrow will bring.
and i'm scared. and i'm going to panic, i know. because the last week has shown me that.
and i'm going to leave.
and then i'm going to take off my rings. i think i might wear the band on my other hand, pinky finger. but i don't really know.
they will probably both end up in the box they came in.
and then i will drink. and kit will take care of me (i hope she doesn't want to divorce ME when this is all said and done), and i'll sleep. and wake up. and have breakfast.
and i'll somehow manage to be really excited and sad at the same time. hopeful/expectant and trying not to get my hopes up. depressed and single.
and i'll look for coffee without looking for coffee. and i'll either be genuinely surprised to see him, or genuinely surprised to not see him.
and then all i can do is hope that he had nothing to do with this.
and like, how when i went to florida, i hoped to see him and him have no effect on me, i hope that i don't see him this time. because it's going to be too fresh. too new. i'm going to be too vulnerable.
because what do you say when you literally just left your husband the day before? literally just took off your rings the night before? literally just started a new chapter of your life less than 24 hours before?
what ridiculous timing.
seriously. unacceptable.
the only thing is...the beer. it will save me. it will be such a wonderful distraction. whether there is coffee or no coffee. there will be beer.
and i don't want to have to think about the possibility that there could be any more disappointment for one weekend.
because wouldn't it be something to have just one drink? just one.
just one drink. that's all i want.
and then in my double-drunkenness, to ask:
'why didn't you kiss me?'
and to put it to rest.
once and for all.
and not let that be one of the things that will keep me up at night over the next two months. when i second guess every single thought and decision. every motivation.
i took the train to work today, and wrote in my paper journal on my way.
and i realized something.
i'm about to undo some things that i've been wishing i could undo for years.
my short list of regrets.
and instead now, of living with this one decision, day in and day out. being so unhappy for so long.
now i can really let go of that. i mean, it's not like taking it back. i can never truly go back to my life before ever came along.
but to not have to say anymore that i'm living with my decision for the rest of my life.
and that is really profound. or it seems that way to me.
i can re-write history.
starting now.
and i realized something else.
when i went home in december, i put that timer on this page. decide to decide, set to go off on my birthday.
and i knew that i'd know by summer. that i'd have already decided by then.
but i never, EVER, could have guessed that i'd know by february 14th.
never in a million years.
and one more thing, in closing, because this is getting a little too long-winded, even for me!
there's this building. it was built in 1888, same year as our house.
and this development company bought it to demolish it, to build condos. naturally.
and it needed to come down. it was in complete disrepair. hadn't been used in probably 40 years.
but they've been literally chipping away at it. i think it's three stories high. from the day the fences went up, until now, it's been about a month.
and they just chip away at it, every day. and i've been photo-documenting the whole thing. it was this sad thing happening before my eyes. i pass it every day on my way to work, when i take the train.
and it has always felt like vultures tearing away at a carcass.
so it was comprised of three huge brick buildings. and they were connected in a c shape.
and it's been this slow progression. every day, another section is gone.
and the timing has been unreal, because it started a week before we decided to call it quits.
and now, the day before i leave, the tiniest section of the building is left.
and i had this feeling, maybe a week ago, that it would be done on the day i moved out. that the deterioration of the building-carcass would be the ultimate metaphor for my crumbling marriage. into dust. into the ground from which we came.
and sure enough, if there isn't the tiniest sliver left for tomorrow, or possibly the day after... the building will be gone when i am.
on that note, i'm going to attempt to sleep.
i don't know how.
but i'm going to try. i'm going to need all of my strength for the day i'm living tomorrow.
french fries
things are starting to deteriorate rapidly now.
like my confidence. or perhaps conviction is the better word.
kit has been a saint. providing a haven on the weekends, letting me crash in her super cushy rec room basement, and letting me hang out all day and night. feeding me, beering me. taking me out, going out with me, getting me out of the house.
listening to my incessant dribble. wanting to slap sense into me and strangle me, because half of what i say to her is total nonsense.
i'm a smart girl. and i'm making a logical decision. but my head and my heart keep making me waver.
essentially, i feel like a moronic asshole.
i'm fine when i'm not home. but when i have to see ever, and what i'm doing to him, i backpedal and it makes me feel insane.
i wish i didn't have a heart. i wish i didn't have a conscience. i wish i didn't love him despite all of his bullshit.
he is manipulating me. he is trying to keep me with him by not doing anything but talking to me. he tells me all of the things i will miss.
i feel fine when i'm not home, which is why i'm now rarely home. he's only here to make it more difficult for me to leave.
i'm moving out.
this weekend.
and he says that when i go, i can never come back. and i will be divorced. i will not be his wife anymore.
my dreams have been messing with me. making me feel like i'm making decisions based on the people i dream about.
because it's all happening very fast. i mean, this has been a slow progression. but now things are moving at light speed.
i feel like i'm on the edge of a cliff, trying to talk myself into jumping. but also occasionally trying to talk myself down.
it's one thing to say 'this is going to be hard.'
and it's another thing to hear, repeatedly, 'you're doing the right thing.' from the people who have seen the way i ended up here, who know me the best.
and it's yet another thing to hear 'you're leaving me because you don't want to be married to me anymore.'
on sunday, all i wanted was to talk to my mom. it's like, i want my mom to tell me i'm doing the right thing.
and i'm so scared that she's not going to.
but i almost called her.
because i felt myself losing it. and i felt myself thinking that i'm doing things too quickly. that this is all happening too fast, and that i'm forcing it to.
i wonder if i would be here now, packing, if he hadn't said the thing about moving out in two weeks. he was the one who put it in my head. and i told him that. i was content to stay until may, when we would have had time to detangle, and plan.
and when i'm questioning my decisions and my motives, i wonder, 'am i doing this because of coffee? am i doing this because i want to take my rings off and be single? am i doing this so i can go out as much as i want, and not have to answer to anyone? am i being a rebellious teen at 32?'
i tell myself that i'm not. and then i have dreams which make me think otherwise.
and nina nailed it. i'm swimmy. every day i think, 'what the fuck am i doing?' and then, 'this is what i have to do to be happy.' and also, 'i have put up with enough.' and 'if he loved me, and really wanted to work on our marriage, he'd have done more to save it, before i told him i'm leaving.' and ultimately, 'he's never going to change, this isn't what i signed up for. this isn't who i want to be married to.'
to anyone who isn't married to ever, it is incredibly easy to see. and to me, the majority of the time, it's very clear.
but people are starting to find out. and it sucks having to explain to people who see us as some kind of pioneering power couple that we're not really a couple. he's told his mom. most of our friends.
and i'm starting to get scared.
everywhere i go, i see happy couples. people who are holding hands and kissing on each other.
friday night, we went out. and i actually switched my rings to the other hand. for about an hour.
i don't know why i did it.
practice?
by this weekend, they'll be back in the box he gave them to me in. and i stare at my hand, without the rings on them. and it makes me sad. and i don't know why.
saturday night, kit and i went to poker night. and it really got to me.
because this couple hosted, who i'd never met before. and they have this adorable infant. and the wife passed the baby off to me. and i held him and fought tears. he smelled like a baby. and i could not remember the last time i held a new baby. it's probably been 8 or 9 years.
i felt so sad because sometimes i want that to be my life, but feel like it is not even close to an option with ever. and i don't want a kid now. but that baby made me realize how far i am from that. i'm starting over now. to try to get to that place.
and when the wife put the baby to bed for the night, and he cried, the husband got up to tend to him. after making dinner for her, that we all collectively put a dent in.
and that is what i want.
and that is what i will never have if i stay here.
because i can kid myself into thinking that ever would change. or get there someday.
but he won't. he says that he would when we are ready, but i don't believe him. because every morning when i leave to go to work for the day, there's a puddle of pee and a pile of shit that the dog left somewhere because he didn't take her out before going to bed. and an empty carton of ice cream, or an empty bag of cereal because he doesn't care enough about himself to eat a real meal.
he's trying to buy time with me, to show me that he can be a better husband. and after seven years, most of the time, i believe i have given him more than enough time. but on sunday, after a day of talking, upon returning home from kit's place, he just wants more time. and somedays i feel like i owe it to him. and sometimes i just know that it's a waste of another month of my life.
he wants more time. to do what, i don't know.
it feels like delaying the inevitable, so i say i'm leaving now. it's felt like delaying the inevitable for months now.
i reminded myself yesterday of the first time i heard transatlanticism, this summer. laying on the back deck, in the sun, with headphones. and crying when i heard title and registration for the first time. because it so encapsulated how i felt. there's no blame for how our love did slowly die, but now that it's gone, it's like it was never there at all. and being in my happiest place, in the sun, crying. because i wasn't happy then.
moving on...
i have a sweet sublet. for almost two months. starting this weekend. and i feel like i should be more excited than i am. i cannot count the number of nights that i have spent trying to picture a life outside of this house. an apartment. and though this isn't my apartment, it's somewhere i can be, outside of this house and this life for the first two months of what is to be a dark period, a very harsh transition.
but in a month or two, i will find the apartment that will be my little haven. the place that is my own. with furniture i chose and bought. with walls that i painted. that is mine.
and someday, i'll return all the favors that my friends are doing for me right now. i feel like i'm bleeding them all dry. (like YOU, reader...)
i'll be listening. i'll be comforting. i'll be letting someone crash with me while they figure out what to do with their life.
and i'll be smarter than i am now, with this behind me.
i've been living off french fries for days now. it's disgusting. it is my comfort food. and my stomach is PISSED:
fries for dinner on friday.
fries for late breakfast on saturday. fries for late night dinner on saturday.
fries for lunch today.
i cannot get comfortable, despite all the comfort food.
and he is not helping me.
somehow, when i came home tonight and said, 'i'll be moving out on friday or saturday', he was still surprised.
i am not sure what my future will hold.
but in an effort to never again settle, and to remember that this is what settling gets me...
the list:
1. hopeless romantic? at least cares enough to try to do something romantic.
2. makes out, hugs, cuddles, spoons
3. stargazer
4. spends time with my friends
5. does things i want to do
6. social
7. drinks (not to excess); smokes as much as i do (not forever...)
8. schooled? career-focused, or headed that way
9. cooks
10. cleans
11. wants a kid, someday
12. takes care of himself
13. smells good
14. takes care of me
15. happy/well adjusted
16. smiles (giggling is a bonus)
17. writer is a bonus
18. appreciates art, creates it is a bonus
19. appreciates music
20. enjoys holidays
21. financially stable (not the same as rich/well off/loaded)
22. will do half of everything i do; joint effort
23. enjoys a game night (scrabble/poker/etc)
24. doesn't work from home
this list makes me wish that i liked women. this would be so much easier to find, if that were the case.
and for the next six months, i promise not to look for this person. because first, i need to do all of these things alone, for myself. and if it's not applicable, then i need to be okay with not having them for a while.
i need to be comfortable when i am alone. and i need to heal and grow and become a better version of myself. and i still have to try to figure out who i am. besides a divorcee who ran away.
someday i'll be ready for love again.
to be in love again. because, really, that is the difference. i want to be in love again.
the list has changed a little since i was 19. but i had the right idea then. and when i revisit the old list, i still think i want all of those things, too. but i grew up a little. and didn't realize that so many simple things were missed the first time around.
and now, if i can just hold myself to it.
someday, i will be happy again. someday i will be happy again. someday i will be happy again. someday i will be happy again. someday i will be happy again.
(yes, i actually typed that out. no cut and paste here)
someday, after this is all over, I WILL BE HAPPY AGAIN.
and this is the path that will lead me there. it sucks right now. but it won't forever.
it's not ever.
it's just over.
and, also, it's just beginning.
like my confidence. or perhaps conviction is the better word.
kit has been a saint. providing a haven on the weekends, letting me crash in her super cushy rec room basement, and letting me hang out all day and night. feeding me, beering me. taking me out, going out with me, getting me out of the house.
listening to my incessant dribble. wanting to slap sense into me and strangle me, because half of what i say to her is total nonsense.
i'm a smart girl. and i'm making a logical decision. but my head and my heart keep making me waver.
essentially, i feel like a moronic asshole.
i'm fine when i'm not home. but when i have to see ever, and what i'm doing to him, i backpedal and it makes me feel insane.
i wish i didn't have a heart. i wish i didn't have a conscience. i wish i didn't love him despite all of his bullshit.
he is manipulating me. he is trying to keep me with him by not doing anything but talking to me. he tells me all of the things i will miss.
i feel fine when i'm not home, which is why i'm now rarely home. he's only here to make it more difficult for me to leave.
i'm moving out.
this weekend.
and he says that when i go, i can never come back. and i will be divorced. i will not be his wife anymore.
my dreams have been messing with me. making me feel like i'm making decisions based on the people i dream about.
because it's all happening very fast. i mean, this has been a slow progression. but now things are moving at light speed.
i feel like i'm on the edge of a cliff, trying to talk myself into jumping. but also occasionally trying to talk myself down.
it's one thing to say 'this is going to be hard.'
and it's another thing to hear, repeatedly, 'you're doing the right thing.' from the people who have seen the way i ended up here, who know me the best.
and it's yet another thing to hear 'you're leaving me because you don't want to be married to me anymore.'
on sunday, all i wanted was to talk to my mom. it's like, i want my mom to tell me i'm doing the right thing.
and i'm so scared that she's not going to.
but i almost called her.
because i felt myself losing it. and i felt myself thinking that i'm doing things too quickly. that this is all happening too fast, and that i'm forcing it to.
i wonder if i would be here now, packing, if he hadn't said the thing about moving out in two weeks. he was the one who put it in my head. and i told him that. i was content to stay until may, when we would have had time to detangle, and plan.
and when i'm questioning my decisions and my motives, i wonder, 'am i doing this because of coffee? am i doing this because i want to take my rings off and be single? am i doing this so i can go out as much as i want, and not have to answer to anyone? am i being a rebellious teen at 32?'
i tell myself that i'm not. and then i have dreams which make me think otherwise.
and nina nailed it. i'm swimmy. every day i think, 'what the fuck am i doing?' and then, 'this is what i have to do to be happy.' and also, 'i have put up with enough.' and 'if he loved me, and really wanted to work on our marriage, he'd have done more to save it, before i told him i'm leaving.' and ultimately, 'he's never going to change, this isn't what i signed up for. this isn't who i want to be married to.'
to anyone who isn't married to ever, it is incredibly easy to see. and to me, the majority of the time, it's very clear.
but people are starting to find out. and it sucks having to explain to people who see us as some kind of pioneering power couple that we're not really a couple. he's told his mom. most of our friends.
and i'm starting to get scared.
everywhere i go, i see happy couples. people who are holding hands and kissing on each other.
friday night, we went out. and i actually switched my rings to the other hand. for about an hour.
i don't know why i did it.
practice?
by this weekend, they'll be back in the box he gave them to me in. and i stare at my hand, without the rings on them. and it makes me sad. and i don't know why.
saturday night, kit and i went to poker night. and it really got to me.
because this couple hosted, who i'd never met before. and they have this adorable infant. and the wife passed the baby off to me. and i held him and fought tears. he smelled like a baby. and i could not remember the last time i held a new baby. it's probably been 8 or 9 years.
i felt so sad because sometimes i want that to be my life, but feel like it is not even close to an option with ever. and i don't want a kid now. but that baby made me realize how far i am from that. i'm starting over now. to try to get to that place.
and when the wife put the baby to bed for the night, and he cried, the husband got up to tend to him. after making dinner for her, that we all collectively put a dent in.
and that is what i want.
and that is what i will never have if i stay here.
because i can kid myself into thinking that ever would change. or get there someday.
but he won't. he says that he would when we are ready, but i don't believe him. because every morning when i leave to go to work for the day, there's a puddle of pee and a pile of shit that the dog left somewhere because he didn't take her out before going to bed. and an empty carton of ice cream, or an empty bag of cereal because he doesn't care enough about himself to eat a real meal.
he's trying to buy time with me, to show me that he can be a better husband. and after seven years, most of the time, i believe i have given him more than enough time. but on sunday, after a day of talking, upon returning home from kit's place, he just wants more time. and somedays i feel like i owe it to him. and sometimes i just know that it's a waste of another month of my life.
he wants more time. to do what, i don't know.
it feels like delaying the inevitable, so i say i'm leaving now. it's felt like delaying the inevitable for months now.
i reminded myself yesterday of the first time i heard transatlanticism, this summer. laying on the back deck, in the sun, with headphones. and crying when i heard title and registration for the first time. because it so encapsulated how i felt. there's no blame for how our love did slowly die, but now that it's gone, it's like it was never there at all. and being in my happiest place, in the sun, crying. because i wasn't happy then.
moving on...
i have a sweet sublet. for almost two months. starting this weekend. and i feel like i should be more excited than i am. i cannot count the number of nights that i have spent trying to picture a life outside of this house. an apartment. and though this isn't my apartment, it's somewhere i can be, outside of this house and this life for the first two months of what is to be a dark period, a very harsh transition.
but in a month or two, i will find the apartment that will be my little haven. the place that is my own. with furniture i chose and bought. with walls that i painted. that is mine.
and someday, i'll return all the favors that my friends are doing for me right now. i feel like i'm bleeding them all dry. (like YOU, reader...)
i'll be listening. i'll be comforting. i'll be letting someone crash with me while they figure out what to do with their life.
and i'll be smarter than i am now, with this behind me.
i've been living off french fries for days now. it's disgusting. it is my comfort food. and my stomach is PISSED:
fries for dinner on friday.
fries for late breakfast on saturday. fries for late night dinner on saturday.
fries for lunch today.
i cannot get comfortable, despite all the comfort food.
and he is not helping me.
somehow, when i came home tonight and said, 'i'll be moving out on friday or saturday', he was still surprised.
i am not sure what my future will hold.
but in an effort to never again settle, and to remember that this is what settling gets me...
the list:
1. hopeless romantic? at least cares enough to try to do something romantic.
2. makes out, hugs, cuddles, spoons
3. stargazer
4. spends time with my friends
5. does things i want to do
6. social
7. drinks (not to excess); smokes as much as i do (not forever...)
8. schooled? career-focused, or headed that way
9. cooks
10. cleans
11. wants a kid, someday
12. takes care of himself
13. smells good
14. takes care of me
15. happy/well adjusted
16. smiles (giggling is a bonus)
17. writer is a bonus
18. appreciates art, creates it is a bonus
19. appreciates music
20. enjoys holidays
21. financially stable (not the same as rich/well off/loaded)
22. will do half of everything i do; joint effort
23. enjoys a game night (scrabble/poker/etc)
24. doesn't work from home
this list makes me wish that i liked women. this would be so much easier to find, if that were the case.
and for the next six months, i promise not to look for this person. because first, i need to do all of these things alone, for myself. and if it's not applicable, then i need to be okay with not having them for a while.
i need to be comfortable when i am alone. and i need to heal and grow and become a better version of myself. and i still have to try to figure out who i am. besides a divorcee who ran away.
someday i'll be ready for love again.
to be in love again. because, really, that is the difference. i want to be in love again.
the list has changed a little since i was 19. but i had the right idea then. and when i revisit the old list, i still think i want all of those things, too. but i grew up a little. and didn't realize that so many simple things were missed the first time around.
and now, if i can just hold myself to it.
someday, i will be happy again. someday i will be happy again. someday i will be happy again. someday i will be happy again. someday i will be happy again.
(yes, i actually typed that out. no cut and paste here)
someday, after this is all over, I WILL BE HAPPY AGAIN.
and this is the path that will lead me there. it sucks right now. but it won't forever.
it's not ever.
it's just over.
and, also, it's just beginning.
grits.
grits for dinner.
what a weekend.
i am completely, utterly, and entirely exhausted.
my throat is raw from cigarettes, and i only had maybe five or six today, which is half of what i've been having.
i believe, right now, that there is not enough beer and are not enough cigarettes in the world.
line them up in front of me. watch them disappear.
i am using a crutch. well, really, crutches.
i'm so tired. i'm so drained. i'm so stressed. i'm so angry.
the only thing that is making me feel better is working on getting drunk with friends.
i only got drunk on friday night. i knew i should have stopped at two with a nice buzz. but pushed the envelope.
i went out with kit. i'd had a long afternoon of talking with ever. i had been crying. i was so tired then, that i could have gone to bed at six that evening and not woken up until the next day.
i was backpedaling, to use alice's phrase. i felt myself doubting everything. every single decision i'm making. that i'm making a huge mistake. that i love him too much to leave him. that i cannot lose this house and my dog. that i cannot lose my husband.
and i knew that if i stayed, the backpedaling would increase. i was afraid to stay in the house.
it has been a crazy few days. too much has happened, really, to try to write out.
but friday, in front of his intern, he told me that he wasn't going to eat dinner with me (a friday tradition). that there was no point to date night now.
so i made plans with kit, because the thought of just staying home with a mopey ever made me want to vomit.
so we went to a pub, and had three beers over the course of a few hours. talking, talking, talking.
i'm so fucking sick and tired of TALKING. i hate hearing myself whine and complain, commiserate, talk about my problems.
but i keep doing it.
so at the pub, kit asks when i'm moving out.
and i tell her, honestly, that i don't know. sooner would be better, if money wasn't a factor.
but i was trying to give him a few days to see if he takes a step toward finding roommates.
so she told me that i have to set a timeline. give myself a deadline. or else there won't be any rush for me to find a place, or for him to find roommates.
and after six days of talking for hours, and crying for hours, i was pretty much ready to just stop going home, and start staying elsewhere.
so it was 1230, and kit and i headed back to our house. and she came in for a beer, we talked for an hour. she went home.
she'd wanted me to stay over that night. and perhaps i should have. but i didn't.
so it was 130. and i got into bed. and ever had been asleep, but i guess i woke him up when i came upstairs and got into bed.
so he comes in, and says, 'i need to talk to you. or are you too asleep now?'
and there was all this heat and hostility in his voice. and the asleep part was more an accusation that i was faking sleep to avoid talking to him.
i wasn't faking sleep. i could have fallen asleep inside ten minutes at that point.
but hearing the tone in his voice woke me up, and i was instantly sober. i pulled the pillow from off my head, and faced him in the dark.
he goes into this whole story about how he was trying to be proactive while i was out and that he got two roommates lined up. that they were moving in april first and that when i come back from my trip home to tell my parents, that i shouldn't come back. that i should be out before i leave.
THIS IS TWO WEEKS AWAY.
i'm thinking, panicking silently, how the fuck am i supposed to get all of my shit packed and out of here in two weeks? how am i supposed to find, and pay three months' rent in two weeks when i haven't even started looking yet. i was thinking that i was going to work on my novel the whole next day, at kit's, and started thinking about looking for apartments online instead.
i was just thinking.
and he was like, 'don't you have anything to say?'
and i told him that i was thinking, that if he really felt that way, that i would do it. that two weeks wasn't very much time, but that i realize that he needs me to leave, and that i respect that and would honor his wishes.
totally taking the high road.
and then i ask, 'so who's moving in?' in my mind, i'm scrolling through everyone we know, thinking about who would live here with him.
and he says that he can't tell me. that they don't want it to be awkward. i tell him that i'm going to figure it out the first time i come over, and keep pushing him to tell me.
he refuses.
he just keeps asking me what i want to say.
and i keep saying that i'm just trying to make a plan to make this happen in time. that i'll start packing the next day and looking for a place.
and i push again to know who is moving in, feeling like i'd be so much less happy if it was a girl, or two girls. partially because i don't want to subject them to his filth. but also because i think it's too soon to put another girl in the house.
and he says...
'there are no roommates. i was just saying that to see what you would say. i thought we were really getting somewhere when you were leaving to go with kit, and i thought you would say that you didn't want to leave. that you changed your mind.'
and i was so FUCKING PISSED OFF.
how could he do that to me? i was relieved, because i thought that he'd put on his big boy pants and decided to do something to help his situation, to make sure the mortgage and bills get paid. i mean, the stress of the time crunch for me was totally worth it.
and it was all a LIE. a trick. he was manipulating me.
and i told him that this is precisely why i'm leaving him. that he lies all the time to everyone around me. that i see him do it, without flinching. that he does it with such ease and without wavering.
and i've told him so many times in the past that it bothers me how easily he can lie to people.
and for him to do it to me and tell me? unbelievable!
i started not yelling, but kinda yelling, how could you? here i thought you were being responsible, and you're just tricking me to get some emotional response out of me?
i don't know. we talked for a few hours after that. i went to bed between 330 and 4 when i was so tired i could no longer sit in a chair and smoke cigarettes.
you know, i only cry when he's talking with me.
and i cried and cried, trying to explain myself to him. and it's easier to do when i'm angry, because i don't care how mean my words sound. i feel like i have to be super mean to him so that the shit sinks in.
anyways, i went to bed, in shock over that. woke up at 9 to some jackass using a fucking jackhammer outside my bedroom window. so so angry.
get up, have coffee, tell nina the whole thing.
and she reacted as violently as i did. that is so fucked up! how could he do that?
and i told her. this divorce, our dying marriage. it's like dying by papercuts.
so many marriages are like a slit throat. very concrete instance. someone cheats, constant fighting, etc. by mine is like a million tiny paper cuts. no one thing is any big deal. but when all of them have made their mark, you bleed to death from a million tiny cuts that are seemingly insignificant.
we talked online for an hour, and then he woke up, so i got offline, and started to clean our bedroom, separating dirty clothes from clean ones and hanging stuff.
and he asks me to come lay in bed and talk to him.
it had only been six or seven hours since we'd been talking, so i wasn't too happy about that. i had plans with kit at 1130, and it was already 1030.
whatever. so i lay down on my side of the bed to talk to him.
and he apologized for the night before, just saying that he is so desperate to keep me here that he'd do anything. that he'd get a job if i'd stay. that he'd put all of his business stuff in the basement if i'd stay.
and i told him that this is not the time to be making those drastic offers. that the time to do that was over the past six months when i was asking him to and telling him that i was really upset by both money issues and space issues, and not feeling like i have a place in the house.
and he just listened.
and i went into a few different analogies, to really try to drive it home. because i realized that i feel like i just need to go to rehab. not literally. the type of rehab where you remove yourself from your situation (being married, in a house) to remove your problems (husband). to really be alone and to really try to figure yourself out.
and just like an addict surrounded by drugs. you can never succeed at figuring out what's at the root of your addictions if you're living in a crack house.
you have to go somewhere (a tiny apartment) and be completely alone, or with a shrink, maybe, and work on yourself. your problems, your skewed way of thinking. and then fix yourself.
before you can even try to reintroduce yourself to the situation where all of your triggers are (home with husband). and reintroducing yourself is NEVER a good idea. but for some people, that is the choice that they make.
what else?
i don't know.
i went to kit's mostly sure i'd be staying there that night, but still didn't pack for it anyways. i just couldn't imagine not going home. it's like i'm living this single life now, already, without really being single. staying wherever, making my own choices.
and trying not to worry about their impact on him. but i do anyways. for some retarded reason.
so i stayed at her place. all day. all evening. we watch olympics, drink coffee, make food. i edited my novel and started making revisions. we looked at apartments together for a few minutes.
and then it was nine. and i really really didn't want to go home. and i really really wanted to have a slumber party instead.
it felt like being asked, 'would you rather eat some cake, or be eaten by an alligator?'
easy fucking choice.
so i text him and say that i want to stay, what is he doing? and he says, i think you should stay. get some rest. i need sleep, too.
which we both looked at each other and thought about who might be going over to stay with him, jokingly, but only really kindof.
like, that was TOO easy.
so that was that. cracked open three beers. stay up writing and talking and scrabbling until like 2 am? i don't know. i was so exhausted.
i just cannot say that enough. i'm so tired.
all the time.
so whatever. go to sleep.
and it was so peaceful. i didn't cry the whole time i was gone. i haven't cried in front of her about this yet, because i just get so angry telling the story that there's no room for sadness.
so i slept very well, woke up at 1030 and made coffee and worked on writing until i went home to get ready for my lunch date with alice.
to say that alice and i have been living parallel lives for the past few months would be the understatement of the year. she wasn't married, but was with her boyfriend for three and a half years. and just recently had been going through every single thing i've been going through with ever.
and i was shocked when she told me that they split up the first week of february.
so we hadn't seen each other, and she didn't know about ever and i. so we went for brunch and beers.
and it was awesome.
well, as awesome as it can be to see your friend as hurt and as angry as you are.
i hate when addages have merit. but 'misery loves company'.
we just kept grabbing each other and oh my god-ding each other. because everything was the same. same thoughts, same feelings, same EVERYTHING.
i love her. i knew that she was awesome when we cooked together over the summer, but we each ahd separate sets of friends, so i guess we just kept doing what we are doing. but i am so glad that we reconnected again now.
it was great. i just feel less insane knowing that someone i know and love feels the same way i have been feeling for the past few months. and i hope she came away from it feeling as much affirmation that i do about doing the right thing. doing the hard thing. but doing the right thing.
and everyone keeps telling me that i'm so brave. but really, it isn't bravity. is that even a word? autocorrect is telling me it's not.
but it's not that. it's just having faith that i will be happier on the other side of this fucking cesspool of shit.
so i decided after brunch, growing a pair of balls via beer and lunch with alice, to start packing today.
and i have maybe eight boxes so far. movies. summer/spring clothes. journals, photo albums, keepsakes and old letters. art supplies, canvases.
and it's not much. but i feel like i'm more than halfway.
i just have the kitchen and the clothes i wear now.
and that can happen the day before i leave.
i feel like i'm getting sick. which really really sucks. i know i've killed my immune system with all this stress and blowing my nose from crying is the worst thing to do during flu season. and smoking and drinking don't help, either. not sleeping...the list goes on.
i read somewhere that people in loving relationships get sick less often than people who are not.
and i think that i have crossed that line.
i feel better. he asked me to stop packing because he couldn't watch me do it. so i did.
then he went up to smoke and talk on the phone. he was telling someone, and i heard him say, for the millionth time that 'she just isn't in love with me anymore,'
which is the only reason he can state for why i am leaving.
and it's so ridiculous. because it is not a reason for me at all.
so i packed more, in an effort to not hear what else he had to say about it.
and now, sleep.
i hope i can. because i'm too tired not to.
what a weekend.
i am completely, utterly, and entirely exhausted.
my throat is raw from cigarettes, and i only had maybe five or six today, which is half of what i've been having.
i believe, right now, that there is not enough beer and are not enough cigarettes in the world.
line them up in front of me. watch them disappear.
i am using a crutch. well, really, crutches.
i'm so tired. i'm so drained. i'm so stressed. i'm so angry.
the only thing that is making me feel better is working on getting drunk with friends.
i only got drunk on friday night. i knew i should have stopped at two with a nice buzz. but pushed the envelope.
i went out with kit. i'd had a long afternoon of talking with ever. i had been crying. i was so tired then, that i could have gone to bed at six that evening and not woken up until the next day.
i was backpedaling, to use alice's phrase. i felt myself doubting everything. every single decision i'm making. that i'm making a huge mistake. that i love him too much to leave him. that i cannot lose this house and my dog. that i cannot lose my husband.
and i knew that if i stayed, the backpedaling would increase. i was afraid to stay in the house.
it has been a crazy few days. too much has happened, really, to try to write out.
but friday, in front of his intern, he told me that he wasn't going to eat dinner with me (a friday tradition). that there was no point to date night now.
so i made plans with kit, because the thought of just staying home with a mopey ever made me want to vomit.
so we went to a pub, and had three beers over the course of a few hours. talking, talking, talking.
i'm so fucking sick and tired of TALKING. i hate hearing myself whine and complain, commiserate, talk about my problems.
but i keep doing it.
so at the pub, kit asks when i'm moving out.
and i tell her, honestly, that i don't know. sooner would be better, if money wasn't a factor.
but i was trying to give him a few days to see if he takes a step toward finding roommates.
so she told me that i have to set a timeline. give myself a deadline. or else there won't be any rush for me to find a place, or for him to find roommates.
and after six days of talking for hours, and crying for hours, i was pretty much ready to just stop going home, and start staying elsewhere.
so it was 1230, and kit and i headed back to our house. and she came in for a beer, we talked for an hour. she went home.
she'd wanted me to stay over that night. and perhaps i should have. but i didn't.
so it was 130. and i got into bed. and ever had been asleep, but i guess i woke him up when i came upstairs and got into bed.
so he comes in, and says, 'i need to talk to you. or are you too asleep now?'
and there was all this heat and hostility in his voice. and the asleep part was more an accusation that i was faking sleep to avoid talking to him.
i wasn't faking sleep. i could have fallen asleep inside ten minutes at that point.
but hearing the tone in his voice woke me up, and i was instantly sober. i pulled the pillow from off my head, and faced him in the dark.
he goes into this whole story about how he was trying to be proactive while i was out and that he got two roommates lined up. that they were moving in april first and that when i come back from my trip home to tell my parents, that i shouldn't come back. that i should be out before i leave.
THIS IS TWO WEEKS AWAY.
i'm thinking, panicking silently, how the fuck am i supposed to get all of my shit packed and out of here in two weeks? how am i supposed to find, and pay three months' rent in two weeks when i haven't even started looking yet. i was thinking that i was going to work on my novel the whole next day, at kit's, and started thinking about looking for apartments online instead.
i was just thinking.
and he was like, 'don't you have anything to say?'
and i told him that i was thinking, that if he really felt that way, that i would do it. that two weeks wasn't very much time, but that i realize that he needs me to leave, and that i respect that and would honor his wishes.
totally taking the high road.
and then i ask, 'so who's moving in?' in my mind, i'm scrolling through everyone we know, thinking about who would live here with him.
and he says that he can't tell me. that they don't want it to be awkward. i tell him that i'm going to figure it out the first time i come over, and keep pushing him to tell me.
he refuses.
he just keeps asking me what i want to say.
and i keep saying that i'm just trying to make a plan to make this happen in time. that i'll start packing the next day and looking for a place.
and i push again to know who is moving in, feeling like i'd be so much less happy if it was a girl, or two girls. partially because i don't want to subject them to his filth. but also because i think it's too soon to put another girl in the house.
and he says...
'there are no roommates. i was just saying that to see what you would say. i thought we were really getting somewhere when you were leaving to go with kit, and i thought you would say that you didn't want to leave. that you changed your mind.'
and i was so FUCKING PISSED OFF.
how could he do that to me? i was relieved, because i thought that he'd put on his big boy pants and decided to do something to help his situation, to make sure the mortgage and bills get paid. i mean, the stress of the time crunch for me was totally worth it.
and it was all a LIE. a trick. he was manipulating me.
and i told him that this is precisely why i'm leaving him. that he lies all the time to everyone around me. that i see him do it, without flinching. that he does it with such ease and without wavering.
and i've told him so many times in the past that it bothers me how easily he can lie to people.
and for him to do it to me and tell me? unbelievable!
i started not yelling, but kinda yelling, how could you? here i thought you were being responsible, and you're just tricking me to get some emotional response out of me?
i don't know. we talked for a few hours after that. i went to bed between 330 and 4 when i was so tired i could no longer sit in a chair and smoke cigarettes.
you know, i only cry when he's talking with me.
and i cried and cried, trying to explain myself to him. and it's easier to do when i'm angry, because i don't care how mean my words sound. i feel like i have to be super mean to him so that the shit sinks in.
anyways, i went to bed, in shock over that. woke up at 9 to some jackass using a fucking jackhammer outside my bedroom window. so so angry.
get up, have coffee, tell nina the whole thing.
and she reacted as violently as i did. that is so fucked up! how could he do that?
and i told her. this divorce, our dying marriage. it's like dying by papercuts.
so many marriages are like a slit throat. very concrete instance. someone cheats, constant fighting, etc. by mine is like a million tiny paper cuts. no one thing is any big deal. but when all of them have made their mark, you bleed to death from a million tiny cuts that are seemingly insignificant.
we talked online for an hour, and then he woke up, so i got offline, and started to clean our bedroom, separating dirty clothes from clean ones and hanging stuff.
and he asks me to come lay in bed and talk to him.
it had only been six or seven hours since we'd been talking, so i wasn't too happy about that. i had plans with kit at 1130, and it was already 1030.
whatever. so i lay down on my side of the bed to talk to him.
and he apologized for the night before, just saying that he is so desperate to keep me here that he'd do anything. that he'd get a job if i'd stay. that he'd put all of his business stuff in the basement if i'd stay.
and i told him that this is not the time to be making those drastic offers. that the time to do that was over the past six months when i was asking him to and telling him that i was really upset by both money issues and space issues, and not feeling like i have a place in the house.
and he just listened.
and i went into a few different analogies, to really try to drive it home. because i realized that i feel like i just need to go to rehab. not literally. the type of rehab where you remove yourself from your situation (being married, in a house) to remove your problems (husband). to really be alone and to really try to figure yourself out.
and just like an addict surrounded by drugs. you can never succeed at figuring out what's at the root of your addictions if you're living in a crack house.
you have to go somewhere (a tiny apartment) and be completely alone, or with a shrink, maybe, and work on yourself. your problems, your skewed way of thinking. and then fix yourself.
before you can even try to reintroduce yourself to the situation where all of your triggers are (home with husband). and reintroducing yourself is NEVER a good idea. but for some people, that is the choice that they make.
what else?
i don't know.
i went to kit's mostly sure i'd be staying there that night, but still didn't pack for it anyways. i just couldn't imagine not going home. it's like i'm living this single life now, already, without really being single. staying wherever, making my own choices.
and trying not to worry about their impact on him. but i do anyways. for some retarded reason.
so i stayed at her place. all day. all evening. we watch olympics, drink coffee, make food. i edited my novel and started making revisions. we looked at apartments together for a few minutes.
and then it was nine. and i really really didn't want to go home. and i really really wanted to have a slumber party instead.
it felt like being asked, 'would you rather eat some cake, or be eaten by an alligator?'
easy fucking choice.
so i text him and say that i want to stay, what is he doing? and he says, i think you should stay. get some rest. i need sleep, too.
which we both looked at each other and thought about who might be going over to stay with him, jokingly, but only really kindof.
like, that was TOO easy.
so that was that. cracked open three beers. stay up writing and talking and scrabbling until like 2 am? i don't know. i was so exhausted.
i just cannot say that enough. i'm so tired.
all the time.
so whatever. go to sleep.
and it was so peaceful. i didn't cry the whole time i was gone. i haven't cried in front of her about this yet, because i just get so angry telling the story that there's no room for sadness.
so i slept very well, woke up at 1030 and made coffee and worked on writing until i went home to get ready for my lunch date with alice.
to say that alice and i have been living parallel lives for the past few months would be the understatement of the year. she wasn't married, but was with her boyfriend for three and a half years. and just recently had been going through every single thing i've been going through with ever.
and i was shocked when she told me that they split up the first week of february.
so we hadn't seen each other, and she didn't know about ever and i. so we went for brunch and beers.
and it was awesome.
well, as awesome as it can be to see your friend as hurt and as angry as you are.
i hate when addages have merit. but 'misery loves company'.
we just kept grabbing each other and oh my god-ding each other. because everything was the same. same thoughts, same feelings, same EVERYTHING.
i love her. i knew that she was awesome when we cooked together over the summer, but we each ahd separate sets of friends, so i guess we just kept doing what we are doing. but i am so glad that we reconnected again now.
it was great. i just feel less insane knowing that someone i know and love feels the same way i have been feeling for the past few months. and i hope she came away from it feeling as much affirmation that i do about doing the right thing. doing the hard thing. but doing the right thing.
and everyone keeps telling me that i'm so brave. but really, it isn't bravity. is that even a word? autocorrect is telling me it's not.
but it's not that. it's just having faith that i will be happier on the other side of this fucking cesspool of shit.
so i decided after brunch, growing a pair of balls via beer and lunch with alice, to start packing today.
and i have maybe eight boxes so far. movies. summer/spring clothes. journals, photo albums, keepsakes and old letters. art supplies, canvases.
and it's not much. but i feel like i'm more than halfway.
i just have the kitchen and the clothes i wear now.
and that can happen the day before i leave.
i feel like i'm getting sick. which really really sucks. i know i've killed my immune system with all this stress and blowing my nose from crying is the worst thing to do during flu season. and smoking and drinking don't help, either. not sleeping...the list goes on.
i read somewhere that people in loving relationships get sick less often than people who are not.
and i think that i have crossed that line.
i feel better. he asked me to stop packing because he couldn't watch me do it. so i did.
then he went up to smoke and talk on the phone. he was telling someone, and i heard him say, for the millionth time that 'she just isn't in love with me anymore,'
which is the only reason he can state for why i am leaving.
and it's so ridiculous. because it is not a reason for me at all.
so i packed more, in an effort to not hear what else he had to say about it.
and now, sleep.
i hope i can. because i'm too tired not to.
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