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2 Years

So today is the two year anniversary of the day I went on a date that I didn't know was a date until it was practically over (someone putting his tongue in your mouth can bring on that realization). Really I should be in a celebratory mood, I think that two years is pretty respectable, but I feel blah. Unimpressed. Uninspired. I had these illusions/delusions of what today would be like. What it would feel like, and of course what you think something will be and what it really is are two completely separate things. A small part of me wishes I was one of those high-maintenance types. Someone who makes it crystal clear what she expects and when and how. But I've never been that person, will never be that person. And really, it isn't about being high maintenance, it's about being honest as far as your expectations, what you know in your heart that you deserve. I know that it's seems petty, I have what so many others don't, and so many others would settle for far less. It just seems that two years later I'm no closer to forever than I was on the first non-date. Another girl would be issuing ultimatums by now, "you have six months to propose or I'm out!", but is that really what I want? To get my way only because I threatened to leave? I've spent the last several months making deals with myself "after this vacation we'll have a talk", and "as soon as things settle down with work/school/ kids/life we'll have a talk". But things never settle down do they? And so the talk never happens. And so here I am still, stuck.

The Know it all

I am extremely fortunate to have a close relationship with my Dad. We talk every day, whether I want to or not. He listens when I need him to, and I do the same for him. As with almost all good things, there is a downside to the closeness that we share. He feels that he should be made privy to every aspect of my life. Because of this more often than not I have to put on a brave face if I'm in a bad mood or having a hard time with something, because our relationship has no boundaries. I know I could just lay it out for him, and tell him that I don't want to talk about it, but I feel like that would hurt his feelings and I don't want to do that. One of the things that makes me most crazy is his habit of asking me why certain people haven't done certain things. For example, my ex husband has been driving around with a reject inspection sticker since the summer. So I am asked why he hasn't gotten it taken care of. My older brother is at the beginning stages of a custody battle (of sorts) with his ex girlfriend over their son. He was given the number of a man we went to high school with who now practices family law. My father asked me if my brother had called the lawyer and when I answered no he asked me why. A different person would respond with something along the lines of, "HOW THE FUCK SHOULD I KNOW???????". But I can't say that because it would be mean and disrespectful, not to mention uncalled for. I'm the reasonable, rational one in the family. Its always been this way, but in being the reasonable rational one, I'm starting to become less so, because everyone drives me so bat shit nuts.  Healthcare is so the wrong line of work for me. I should have become some kind of crisis counselor, because at least then I could be getting paid to listen to people's problems and drama all day.


It appears that I have somehow lost all motivation to socialize. I have no patience for people lately, and by people, I mean everyone. I don't return friends phone calls, I deal with family only because I have to. I shrug off plans so I can sit at home in my apartment that has become to small over these last few months. Is it the freezing cold weather, the short days? I don't know, I hope so. I keep telling myself that as soon as the winter is over, when it's warm and sunny, I'll be me again.

No closure

In other blogs I've mentioned my mother, alluded to the fact that we don't speak and haven't for some time. It's been more than a year since I've spoken to my mother, more than a year since I've laid eyes on her. Some people think that your mother is always your mother, and you have to overlook the bad and respect her based soley on the fact that she gave birth to you. Maybe I used to be one of those people. I don't believe that just because someone has the same DNA as you that it means they are exempt from decent human behavior. If only it were that simple. Does a parent of a murderer love their child less as they visit them in prison? Does the daughter of a pedophile just stop feeling anything resembling love for their father? I don't know. When I think of my children not one single act comes to mind that could make me love them any less. God forbid one of them grows up to become a murderer or a pedophile, but if that were the case they would still be my children and I guess I would have to find a way past what they had done or become.

I think I've known for a very long time that my mother didn't love me, and I'm not saying that in the hopes of making excuses for my past behaviors and my shortcomings now, I'm saying it because I believe it to be true. Growing up I was all but invisible, if I wasn't serving some purpose, be it babysitter or confidant. Once when I was around 9 or 10 I decided to run away from home. My grand plan was to live under the bleachers at the ballpark across the street from our house. I wrote a note to my mother telling her that now she could have her three perfect boys all to herself, that now I would be out of the way. I wasn't gone very long, it was cold and dark outside, and when I got back I thought she'd be so relieved to see me, so happy. But nothing. I don't know if she even realized I was gone.

When I was in the 8th grade I had my first boyfriend. We ended up dating for the better part of the next four years, until he moved away to Florida. He and I had sex in the spring of our Freshman year. The next winter I got pregnant. I was one of those stupid kids who thought things like that happened to other people, certainly not to me. On the day I came clean to my mother I had already decided that I couldn't continue the pregnancy, in my mind there was no other option. 15 and pregnant was not how I had pictured myself, and I knew I had to take care of it so that I could go on with my life pretending that it had never happened. I begged my mother not to tell my father, I knew that he would be beyond furious. In looking back I understand that she had to tell him, that he had a right to know. When I was called down from my room to the kitched table that day I kind of got a glimpse into how a convicted murdered on death row must feel as he's led to the electric chair. I knew it would be bad, I just wasn't prepared for how bad it would be. For the next two hours my father proceeded to tell me what a pig I was, how I was no better than the slut next door, how not having the baby was murder, how wrong it was. Over and over I cried that I was sorry, that I never meant for it to happen, but nothing I said made a difference, he just told me to shut up. My mother just sat there the whole time, watching me cry, listening to me beg him to stop. She did nothing. She said nothing.

The was the very beginning of our end. My father and I were able to put that day behind us, but it took a long time. But I could never forget how she just sat there, saying nothing, doing nothing. Over the years the betrayals added up, until finally something so irreversible happened that there was nowhere else for us to go. The could be no moving forward, no forgiving and forgetting. Despite all this I miss her every day. I crave having the mom's people have on TV. A mom is supposed to be there to celebrate her children's triumphs, encourage them after a misstep. Not having that influence in my life has colored so many things a dismal shade of gray. I hate her and love her all at once, but the thought of having her in my life terrifies me. I can't move on, but I can't go back. I don't know what to do, I don't know how to feel better.

If I were you.

I'm tired. I feel the first vestiges of a cold coming on now that the weather is changing. I'm worried. The ex still doesn't have a job, and I have to take a loan out against my 401K so that I can pay his rent. I don't care about the money, not really anyway, it's more the uncertainty about the future. It's human nature to do the whole "well, if I were you..." thing, but in this situation it really does apply. I want so badly to say to him:

If I were you I'd appreciate the fact that I got to spend every day this summer at home with the kids.

If I were you I'd appreciate the fact that they worship the ground you walk on.

If I were you I'd drink less, and live more.

If I were you I'd want my children to come home to a clean house they can be proud of, instead of a dreadful mess.

If I were you I'd focus more on the positve, instead of everything that's wrong.

If I were you I'd treasure the friendship that we have, instead of mourning the marriage that we lost.

If I were you I would have tried harder to save us.

If I were you I would have noticed when the person I was in love with was lost and unhappy.

If I were you I'd call my parents more.

If I were you I'd reconnect with old friends who love and miss you.

If I were you I'd join an online dating site and see what happens.

If I were you I'd stop making excuses for my shortcomings.

If I were you I'd smoke less pot, and breathe more air.

If I were you I'd care more, and brood less.

Sadly though, I'm not you. Any saying these things out loud will only produce a defensive reaction, an assumption of what kind of person and father I think you are, neither of which will be true. I'll end up apologizing for my words, and meaning that apology, even though I have nothing to be sorry for. The time spent waiting for things to get better never seems to end, and I'm constantly worried about the future, there's so much I can't change, can't control.

I'm so tired.


Back to the future

We've settled into a routine. Thursday nights are at my place, Saturday's and sometime Sunday's at his. On Monday we watch Hero's. We have our favorite restaurants, inside jokes. He knows most of my quirks, and I know his. Work makes him grouchy, and he's like a small child with way too much energy on the days he doesn't go to the gym. He loves his mom but he doesn't like her very much, and I don't hassle him about this (too much) because I understand what it's like to feel so disappointed and let down by a parent. His friends are his family. He's guarded, although he'll never admit it and maybe doesn't even realize. He's never lived with a girl, never been engaged, and his longest relationship so far was for two and a half years. I don't know her name, or why they broke up. These details he doesn't share, nor does he share much of his past, except for small snippets here and there. Me, I'm an open book when it comes to some things, and a permanently locked safe when it comes to others. He doesn't know that I've had two abortions, one in high school, and one while I was married, and I don't think I'll ever tell him. He doesn't know that my mother blames me for her divorcing my dad, he doesn't know that I had an affair, and that I still speak to the boy I cheated on my husband with. I've thought about telling him these things sometimes, but something stops me. Maybe it's the fear of being judged, of having to explain my actions, justify my behavior. I'm hesitant to go all in on this relationship, and with an attitude like that how can I possibly hope for success? I'm trying to be happy in the moment, not have too many expectations for the future. On one hand this makes me sad, thinking of the future with him means I'll never have another child, that my children will have another father figure in their life, that I'll run the risk of investing and losing everything. But on the other hand it's so hard to NOT think of the future. When we first got together he made it clear marriage wasn't something he believed in, he never wanted children. I respected these things. As time progressed he started to drop the M word, to say things like "if we ever move in together". I laugh these comments off, not because I don't want to marry him or live with him, but as a measure of self protection. Lately I've been thinking of the future despite all my efforts not to. I don't want to be someones girlfriend forever, I don't want to be with someone for the rest of my life who has a roommate. I want the security of marriage, as much of an illusion as that security is. I want to come home to someone at the end of the day. I don't want to go to bed alone on most nights and wake up the same way. So what do I do? Do I stay in a relationship that only has a small chance of going somewhere when all is said and done? Do I end things now, before any more time passes, and continue looking for someone who wants the same things that I do? It's such a cliche, but where I am isn't where I thought I would be at this point in my life. I just want to be settled, and needed, and be with someone who needs me. Why is something that seems so simple so hard to attain?

On reconsidering

Lately I've found myself re-evaluating my relationships. Not necessary the romantic ones (or one, I should say), but more my relationships from a friendship perspective. Things are bothering me, more than they should, more than they used to. We all have our circles of friends. Sometimes it's just one big circle, where everyone is friends with everyone else and has been forever. Other times a person may have several smaller circles, and occasionally those circle intersect, but for the most part are kept separate. I think I hover somewhere between the two. I have one best friend since I am not one of those people who considered four different people to be their best friend. I think the best friend title is sacred and should only be bestowed on one person, otherwise it just isn't special anymore. Imagine a county with two different kings, it's along the same lines. Anyhow, my best friend is that one constant relationship that I have never once had to reconsider. In my eye's she is perfect. I can tell her anything, call her day ot night, and I know that no matter what she will always be there for me with the best advice she can give- regardless of whether or not it is the advice that I want to hear.  My best friend is married to my oldest neighbor. I introduced them, but it wasn't in an effort to match them up, they did that on their own so I can take no credit. Outside of my best friend I have other random friends who are part of the same circle. We laugh and have good times, but the circle is comprised mainly of people who are either married to, employed as, or dating, a police officer. This is a very tight knit group, and even though I have known most of them far longer than their significant others, have known them before they were married to/dating/ employed as, police officers, I seem to always feel left out when spending time in the group. Maybe it's me being oversensitive, or maybe the line is there, and it isn't just me. I don't know. But I do know that I don't want to spend time in a group of people that make me feel this way, whether it's of my own doing or not.  I guess these days I feel so many constraints on my time- kids, boyfriend, work, school, family; I'm spread so thinly that I don't want to spend even one minute doing something that's going to make me unhappy (unless I have to -work and school don't exactly thrill me, but they're a necessary evil).
So where am I going with this? Honestly I'm not sure. But I do know that  as the years have passed I've changed, grown up, realigned my priorities, and I don't want to be around people who haven't grown up, whose priorities are so drastically different from mine. This post seems to be a lot of words about nothing, and even though there are a lot of words, I still don't feel like I got out what I needed to. Maybe I'll try again later.


It has occured to me lately that at times I can be somwhat unreasonable. I overreact to things, tell myself that I'm overreacting, tell myself why I'm being ridiculous, and then continue to overreact. Why do I do this? I tried to think back and remember if I've always been this way, and I think I have been. Something happens and I immediately go to the worst case scenario. I sometimes lay in bed at night and have imaginary "what-if" fights with my boyfriend, and then get seriously pissed at him for doing the thing I imagined that he did. Am I completely crazy? Does anyone else do this?

I think in part it could be attributed to how under-appreciated I feel lately. Always running around, helping out other people, with close to nothing left over for myself. As a result I'm tired and short tempered, prone to bouts of severe oversensitivity. Things are just insane, I'm completely overwhelmed. It'll pass.

Are you too good for your home?

Last night me and the man went to see Pineapple Express. Now, I'm not all that big into movie reviews, if I want to see something, a bad review generally won't stop me, nor does a good review want to make me see it more. Sometimes it's actually the opposite: a bad review may make me more inclined to see a movie, just so I can prove some stranger wrong, ditto for good reviews. Anyway, we attempted to see Pineapple Express a few weeks ago, but then got caught up talking and eating dinner at our favorite restaurant, neither of us wanting to leave to sit in a dark cold theater. So last night we made it in time to get good seats AND see all the previews-which is really the only reason I like to go to the movies anyway. 

So the plot is as follows: overweight process server (Seth Rogen) who is dating a high schooler buys some one of a kind weed from his dealer (James Franco)and then witnesses a murder while sitting outside the home of one of his supoena recipients (who just so happens to be his drug dealers supplier-Lumberg from office space aka Gary Cole) The murderers are a female cop (Rosie Perez. No really. Yeah, I thought she was dead too). He tosses his half smoked joint on the ground and takes off, but not until he smashes into the car of the policewoman and another parked car. So the drug supplier finds the half smoked joint, knows what it is, knows that he's the only one supplying it and the only person he's supplied it to is James Franco. So basically Seth Rogen and James Franco spend the whole rest of the movie running away from Lumberg. The can't stay at James Franco's place, and everywhere else they go Lumberg seems to find them. So my problem is this-before all of the running around started why didn't James Franco and Seth Rogen just go to Seth Rogen's place and hide out there? Lumberg didn't know his name or what he really looked like, and he would have had no way of knowing that Seth Rogen was the only person that James Franco sold the Pineapple Express to. Yes, I know that there would be no movie otherwise, but it was just so glaringly obvious. I realize that me making this connection is along the lines of what those hard ass guys do when they watch action movies and say things like "yeah, that gun is a (insert bad ass gun name here) and it only holds six rounds and that guys just shot off 12. There's no way that guy had time to reload that fast".

I don't think we're in Kansas anymore...

For the last couple of years numerous people have told me that I HAVE to watch Oz (on HBO), because it's such a good show, it's so real (none of the people telling me to watch have ever been to prison so I'm not sure how they knew it was "real"), blah, blah, blah... So last night I happened to catch an episode. I didn't plan to watch, the TV was just on, and I didn't bother to change the channel.

The show absolutely sucked. Completely. The acting was horrible, the script was even worse. Despite being chock full of recognizable faces- The Fuck Buddy from Sex and the City, Mr. Echo from Lost, Michael from Lost, the dad from Save the Last Dance, and some dude who I'm pretty sure was on The Soprano's, not once did I actually think to myself, "hey, I think I'll watch this again!". In a way I was actually relieved because I've been missing absolutely nothing by not taking time out of my life to watch this show. And furthermore, taking time to watch Oz would have meant less time to watch Enchanted, repeatedly.