yeah.
i finally calmed myself down from that, the second panic attack of the day.
and at 1230 am i got a text from landlord telling me that my constant coming and going has gotten to be too much. that his heating bill was $100 higher than normal.
i texted him back.
is this a joke? i was gone for half the month of december. i told you that the heat was set too high, and i have my windows cracked. maybe if the front door shut, that would help. do you want me to move? and is 1230 am texting even appropriate?
i must be taking crazy pills.
what i wanted to say was this:
just because you choose not to work, and choose to set your own thermostat at a retarded temperature, your bills are not my FUCKING PROBLEM.
i pay my rent. you do not have the right to tell me when i can come and go. if you don't fucking like it, then fucking MOVE OUT. i pay my rent on time. too high, if you ask me, but heat is included, so whatever. i don't bitch about the fact that the door doesn't shut. i don't bitch about the fact that my bathroom window is permanently open, when it's 15 degrees outside. or about the fact that the oven doesn't work. or the fact that third floor neighbor moves furniture around her apartment between the hours of midnight and 3am when i'm trying to sleep, pretty much every night. or that i can hear her having sex. or hear her cat running all over at all hours. or plays even louder music at even crazier hours. or about the fact that you don't clear snow from the stoop or the walk leading up to it.
i don't smoke in the apartment. it is none of your business when i choose to smoke or how many times a day i open the front door.
i would love nothing more than to move out of your shithole apartment.
your texting is completely inappropriate, out of line, and has pretty much crossed the line from annoyance to harrassment.
i had just calmed myself down from a second panic attack. and you gave me a third. thank you. i have to do something tomorrow called WORK. and i'm waking up at 545 to do that.
you are a crazy asshole. sell your fucking buildings. get a job. leave me the fuck alone. AND STAY THE FUCK OUT OF MY APARTMENT.
tell you what. you give me my security deposit back. keep my last month's rent for the month of february, and i will gladly leave.
as a courtesy, i'll gladly start paying my rent on the 5th, as that is the last possible day i can pay it without incurring a late fee.
i'll play loud music until midnight like you do, and use hammers to make fucking SHOES until midnight like you do. and i'll even try harder to find some guy to fuck just so i can have loud rough sex all day and all night right above your head.
i'm waiting for him to try to come in and notice i changed the lock.
i should probably change it back. just so i have nothing to keep from getting my security deposit back. and i should probably suggest that he just keep my last months rent for february, and go our separate ways.
seriously. i had just accomplished the feeling of, 'maybe now i can fall asleep' when he sent that. and god strike me dead if my heart rate didn't skyrocket above where it was when i wrote that last post.
it's only funny because i just went on to my shrink about not getting out of bed. i go to work and come home. and most nights have two cigarettes. does that constitute constant coming and going?
is anyone a lawyer? can i do anything about this?
crazypills. seriously.
if i had shit i didn't mind breaking, i'd start heaving breakables against my apartment floor.
i have consistently let his crazy texts slide. the one about rent being due on the first. the one about smoking in the hall, which i did not do, and have not ever done. the one that accused me of taking apart my bathroom sink when i was painting his apartment for him.
but now? this is just too far.
i have never wanted to run away and never look back as much as i do right now. four hours before my alarm will go off, sending me to a store that i hate. for a job that i'm pretty disenchanted with this week. to think about the man that i hate more than anyone i have ever hated. for more panic attacks.
i need to sleep. i can't seem to get there.
and i can't pop another pill or have another drink to force myself to pass the fuck out.
fuck my life.
fuck ever.
fuck landlord.
fuck it ALL.
fucking goddamn motherfucker.
on a night when i have to be up retardedly early.
i am awake.
my resting heart rate? 96 bpm.
i just popped an ativan in hopes of falling asleep while it is still technically today.
how did i make it through my entire life since leaving without it? any why have i taken it 3 times in the last 5 days?
i am so mad at myself.
why did i answer the phone?
why did i let him win?
i knew. i knew it. i knew that he would only try to upset me. yet, i hoped it would be different this time.
i'm fucking insane. because it's always the same. and against my better judgment, and everyone else's, i answered the call. to set up a mediation date.
and i got oh so much more than i bargained for.
seemed harmless enough. he said, 'i'm available on thursday or friday or monday, after 130.'
and i said, 'great i'll text you the appointment time.'
and that is when i should have hung up without saying goodbye.
and then i didn't.
and then the next sentence started a chain of sentences.
and then i was royally fucked. in the head. at work. at 2 pm.
and then i had to leave the store. and i had to smoke. and i had to call nina. i had to take a breather for five minutes.
then i had to sit down. i didn't throw up or pass out, but felt very pale and very green.
all because of ever.
ever the hype machine.
i just have to tell myself:
he knows what he is doing, and that is why he is doing it.
he is a liar.
he's doing this because he is scared.
he's doing this because he is hurt. still.
he's trying to make my life harder because he knows i'm happier without him.
he'll get what he deserves and i don't have to be the one to give it to him.
even though, today, i was so livid that i really think, given the right opportunity, i would have harnessed all the buffy i've been watching lately, and put a knife into his person. or punched him in his lying mouth.
i don't want to be writing this right now. but i need to do something.
i watched two episodes of modern family followed by two episodes of the office. and i was laughing so hard for two hours.
and then i turned off the laptop, and i started to cry. out of nowhere, immediately following laughter.
i started and stopped.
i want to cry. i want to scream.
but i can't. and i'm silent.
and i'm fucking awake. and i hate my life right now.
tomorrow i'll have lots of time at suck store to write it all out - i know it's cryptic now, but i can't get into it and get upset all over again.
and then friday, at 3, i see my lawyer. and at 330, he'll be there. i doubt he'll actually show up. but he says he'll be there for mediation. to settle things once and for all.
and then it will be over. and it will be the weekend. and then i can lay in bed for two days. and then it will be suck store again on monday. and then the court date on tuesday.
and then, if i am lucky, the worst will be over.
then, if i'm lucky, i'll never fucking see him again.
on a night when i have to be up retardedly early.
i am awake.
my resting heart rate? 96 bpm.
i just popped an ativan in hopes of falling asleep while it is still technically today.
how did i make it through my entire life since leaving without it? any why have i taken it 3 times in the last 5 days?
i am so mad at myself.
why did i answer the phone?
why did i let him win?
i knew. i knew it. i knew that he would only try to upset me. yet, i hoped it would be different this time.
i'm fucking insane. because it's always the same. and against my better judgment, and everyone else's, i answered the call. to set up a mediation date.
and i got oh so much more than i bargained for.
seemed harmless enough. he said, 'i'm available on thursday or friday or monday, after 130.'
and i said, 'great i'll text you the appointment time.'
and that is when i should have hung up without saying goodbye.
and then i didn't.
and then the next sentence started a chain of sentences.
and then i was royally fucked. in the head. at work. at 2 pm.
and then i had to leave the store. and i had to smoke. and i had to call nina. i had to take a breather for five minutes.
then i had to sit down. i didn't throw up or pass out, but felt very pale and very green.
all because of ever.
ever the hype machine.
i just have to tell myself:
he knows what he is doing, and that is why he is doing it.
he is a liar.
he's doing this because he is scared.
he's doing this because he is hurt. still.
he's trying to make my life harder because he knows i'm happier without him.
he'll get what he deserves and i don't have to be the one to give it to him.
even though, today, i was so livid that i really think, given the right opportunity, i would have harnessed all the buffy i've been watching lately, and put a knife into his person. or punched him in his lying mouth.
i don't want to be writing this right now. but i need to do something.
i watched two episodes of modern family followed by two episodes of the office. and i was laughing so hard for two hours.
and then i turned off the laptop, and i started to cry. out of nowhere, immediately following laughter.
i started and stopped.
i want to cry. i want to scream.
but i can't. and i'm silent.
and i'm fucking awake. and i hate my life right now.
tomorrow i'll have lots of time at suck store to write it all out - i know it's cryptic now, but i can't get into it and get upset all over again.
and then friday, at 3, i see my lawyer. and at 330, he'll be there. i doubt he'll actually show up. but he says he'll be there for mediation. to settle things once and for all.
and then it will be over. and it will be the weekend. and then i can lay in bed for two days. and then it will be suck store again on monday. and then the court date on tuesday.
and then, if i am lucky, the worst will be over.
then, if i'm lucky, i'll never fucking see him again.
dear ever. january 10th.
let's see...
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.
that's right.
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.
right.
ok.
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?
fucking LIAR.
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.
fucking SPONGE.
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.
tea
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:
dearest nina,
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.
like today.
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.
love,
tea
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.
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.
that's right.
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.
right.
ok.
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?
fucking LIAR.
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.
fucking SPONGE.
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.
tea
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:
dearest nina,
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.
like today.
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.
love,
tea
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.
what. the. fuck. january 9th.
so i spent as little time yesterday as possible, doing anything but something that could be deemed time well spent.
i slept in late, laid in bed until after two drinking coffee. had two cigarettes all day, and then decided to get dressed and cleaned up and go for a beer. kit joined me, it was a good finish to an otherwise lame day of laying around and doing nothing and being alone in silence.
today, i felt like i needed to make up for lost time. i was up and cleaned by 130 to go to work with kit. i had already pulled up all the things i needed to print out for court with ever. i got denied for the credit card, so i pulled my credit reports. and then my credit score.
and then vented with kit and her coworker, because my score was 763 when we bought the house. and now? 679. that's what ever is doing to me.
i went to kit's for a bit after that, digesting, then came home.
and i watched 'he loves me, he loves me not'. a delightful gem about a fucking psycho stalker. bad idea jeans. goddamn audrey tatou. hoping for a little romantic comedy. suckerpunched.
so that put me in a lovely mindset. about two thirds of the way through the movie, my phone rang.
it was ever.
ever.
he called me.
i guess seeing me made him want to get this shit over with. fancy that...
i didn't answer.
i panicked instead.
and then checked my email.
and interestingly enough, something from the lawyer.
apparently that night after the bank run in, ever went home and called my lawyer and talked to him. so today, i got an email from the lawyer telling me he'd explain it all on the phone tomorrow, but that ever wants the three of us to meet and talk and settle all the details. and put the house on the market asap.
that he doesn't want to be in the house anymore.
my mind is beyond blown.
so then my dad called about halfway through 'empire records', which was my favorite movie for a long time during high school. i took that call.
i had told mom about running into ever. so dad called asking about the weather...what else is new. and i could tell he wanted to tell me something. but i told him about running into him, and about the calls and emails today.
and he said that ever had called him.
while i was home.
on family dinner night.
out of the blue, ever called him at the house and talked to him about the blizzard, and that he wanted to talk to him about a few things. and dad was nice and polite and helpful. but then he was having a meeting and people were showing up, could he call him later that night. so dad said he'd call him back later. and when he did he never answered.
so that was interesting also. even more so, because he didn't BOTHER TO TELL ME WHILE I WAS STANDING RIGHT NEXT TO HIM. but whatever. he really wanted to talk to him and know what he was thinking. but ever never gave him the chance.
on the bright side, running away is closer than it's ever been.
i can't call him until i know what they discussed.
tomorrow will be an interesting day.
fucking awesome.
can't hardly wait.
i slept in late, laid in bed until after two drinking coffee. had two cigarettes all day, and then decided to get dressed and cleaned up and go for a beer. kit joined me, it was a good finish to an otherwise lame day of laying around and doing nothing and being alone in silence.
today, i felt like i needed to make up for lost time. i was up and cleaned by 130 to go to work with kit. i had already pulled up all the things i needed to print out for court with ever. i got denied for the credit card, so i pulled my credit reports. and then my credit score.
and then vented with kit and her coworker, because my score was 763 when we bought the house. and now? 679. that's what ever is doing to me.
i went to kit's for a bit after that, digesting, then came home.
and i watched 'he loves me, he loves me not'. a delightful gem about a fucking psycho stalker. bad idea jeans. goddamn audrey tatou. hoping for a little romantic comedy. suckerpunched.
so that put me in a lovely mindset. about two thirds of the way through the movie, my phone rang.
it was ever.
ever.
he called me.
i guess seeing me made him want to get this shit over with. fancy that...
i didn't answer.
i panicked instead.
and then checked my email.
and interestingly enough, something from the lawyer.
apparently that night after the bank run in, ever went home and called my lawyer and talked to him. so today, i got an email from the lawyer telling me he'd explain it all on the phone tomorrow, but that ever wants the three of us to meet and talk and settle all the details. and put the house on the market asap.
that he doesn't want to be in the house anymore.
my mind is beyond blown.
so then my dad called about halfway through 'empire records', which was my favorite movie for a long time during high school. i took that call.
i had told mom about running into ever. so dad called asking about the weather...what else is new. and i could tell he wanted to tell me something. but i told him about running into him, and about the calls and emails today.
and he said that ever had called him.
while i was home.
on family dinner night.
out of the blue, ever called him at the house and talked to him about the blizzard, and that he wanted to talk to him about a few things. and dad was nice and polite and helpful. but then he was having a meeting and people were showing up, could he call him later that night. so dad said he'd call him back later. and when he did he never answered.
so that was interesting also. even more so, because he didn't BOTHER TO TELL ME WHILE I WAS STANDING RIGHT NEXT TO HIM. but whatever. he really wanted to talk to him and know what he was thinking. but ever never gave him the chance.
on the bright side, running away is closer than it's ever been.
i can't call him until i know what they discussed.
tomorrow will be an interesting day.
fucking awesome.
can't hardly wait.
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