This is as far out as Snaps will come this morning… I feel like it’s Ground-dog’s Day every day here. If Snaps sees his shadow, it means 20 more minutes of sleep time after he drags the blankets back over himself. I love that my dog is indolent; he suits me better than a companion with too much energy!
Today, as I was out walking the pup in some freezing drizzle (ugh), I realized I was looking at the normal snowdrifts and piles and seeing, not just frozen wasteland, but foreshadowings of Spring.
I looked at the balcony and noted the neat lineup of pots, ready for planting with flowers and herbs.
At the end of the walkway, I saw more than a pile of snow: I perused the dried remains of last summer’s butterfly bushes… and started thinking about what I’d plant there in a few months.
12 weeks, really. That’s all. And a week goes by so quickly; it’ll be here before I know it.
Thank you, Snaps, for getting me outside so I could think about Spring and new life today. I certainly needed it. <3
Which surprises me somewhat, as we no longer see each other, and I don’t really think of him during my daily life that much. Maybe once or twice a week, when something reminds me again of how glad I am to be out of that situation, despite my continuing fondness for the idea of him (who he was when we got married).
But in the last few weeks, I’ve been having one or two “married” dreams per week, so OBVIOUSLY I’m still processing. Last night’s was a bizarre one: I was sitting with his parents and drinking caffeinated tea, which I don’t as the caffeine encourages migraines. I was so exhausted with the situation, with my life, I remember feeling an endless weighting drag of leaden bone and sodden spirit, so his dad reached over and handed me a Coke (one of my most beloved beverages of the Before Migraine Times). So there I was, feeling exhausted, with two drinks that were inimical to my health, and feeling so out of place and so marginal to the situation… then Ex shows up and we go into another room, where there’s a lovely blanket made of crocheted squares. I pick it up and exclaim at its beauty, and say I’d like to make one like it. His response was a brutal, sneering shutdown. “You think you could? I’m sure you’d just start and then drop it, like everything else. If you could even figure it out.” Such contempt. Such hurtful words. I said, “You think I can’t?” His response: “I know you can’t.” And then I woke up.
This was actually not an unlikely conversation for the end of our marriage. I engaged in what I called the “Clean House Project”, where I kept the public areas of the house immaculate for over a year, because he told me he didn’t think I could keep any part of the house clean for a week. Suck on that, oh naysayer.
We used to go to a restaurant where the many entrees were very similar – just small differences between them – and the dish names were in Spanish, of which he had a better grasp than I, and I would ask him “which one do I get? I can never remember.” His response was usually good-humored, so I didn’t know it was bothering him. Until the time he snarled it at me with an obscenity, and then added mean-spirited comments under his breath about how I could “just try f*$&%ing remembering it next time for a change, if that was even possible”. When I asked him to repeat what he’d said, he said it was nothing. Then went back to texting one of his girls, which continued throughout that lunch. So I put the name of the meal in a text file on my phone and never asked again.
There were a lot of little rituals I did to prevent him from being angry or discounting or simply rude, I’m realizing as those habits fall away. What a pleasure that they’re no longer necessary.
And how awful it was to live with someone (and work with another person) who treated me with condescending contempt so frequently. Who verbally doubted my abilities even to exist on the planet as a human without management, because I was such a loser.
In a completely related note, I love love love living alone. I’m no longer walking on eggshells, and it’s glorious.
It’s been a while since I’ve posted here, for which I apologize… I don’t seem to have as many things to say right now, and I’m just lurking on the blogs I read, for which I also apologize. Usually I have a lot to say, but right now, I’m kind of just coasting and taking things in.
Speaking of which.
I was driving home tonight from a teaching job about an hour away from home, and I saw a billboard I *should* have tried to get a photo of, because I can’t find the image online. But I was busy gaping at it, so I was otherwise occupied. Also with driving (snerk).
It had pictures of hamburgers with increasing portions of beef, and the headline was:
“BEEF UP YOUR BUN”.
That is not what I read.
At first glance, I read:
“BEEF UP YOUR BUM.”
Then did a double-take and read it again:
Still “BEEF UP YOUR BUM.”
Just had time, as I was beginning to chortle incredulously, to look really hard and see the proper headline, which makes much more sense with the photos.
I mean, if a billboard has the headline “BEEF UP YOUR BUM”, I would expect something more interesting than just *food*. :}
Well, on the cusp of dramatic change again here. Mom and Dad left for Florida this morning, so – except for a much-anticipated visit from me in late December – I won’t see them until April. Ugh. I realize how much they ground me and emotionally bolster me when they’re not around… the phone just isn’t the same. More, I really *like* them and enjoy their company (even when, as yesterday, Dad opens a political discussion I’m not interested in pursuing, and things get a little unfortunate). Man. I need to make some new friends.
I’ve tried a few friend liaisons, but nothing really satisfying or lasting so far. Murph. So frustrating, but – and I keep reminding myself of this – in some ways, I’ve cast off (and been cast off by) so many trappings and traps of my former life, that this is the obvious time to rebuild, reload, reformat.
To change it up.
Pursuant to this, I am finally and well and truly done with a former co-worker’s shenanigans. Her frequent mean-spirited hysteria, the blindsides aimed at manipulating me into this or that behavior, the gaslighting intended to make me feel incapable and insane, and the just plain abuse – I’ve reached a level of dull, uncaring just-don’t-give-a-shit-anymore that makes it difficult for me to raise a work ethic. And I can’t bear to watch myself burn out this way, simply through the desensitization of dealing constantly with a conscienceless narcissist. If I can’t rekindle my love for dance, better that I leave it or at least change how I participate. It’s been 15 years in February; perhaps it’s time to do something new.
I’ve been defending my passion vehemently for the past year, but I’ve also been watching, with unease, my creeping exhaustion with the personality issues involved in this line of work. Add to that that I’m just not as good at it as I’d like to be – my body is increasingly ill-suited to the flexibility and stamina demands, and especially so as I fight chronic pain, arthritis, and the seemingly-inevitable tip over into winter depression.
So what does my future hold? Perhaps a change in work. Perhaps a change in residence, at least for a while. Certainly a change in me, continuing with the force of the encroaching tide: subtle but unstoppable. I wouldn’t go back to the woman I used to be, even if I could.
What I want out of life: passion, joy, fulfillment, chances to listen to the peacefulness within. I’m slowly peeling away the shells and influences that separate me from these goals, and trying to find better (? newer) avenues.
So this week I finally, *finally* cracked into David Tenant’s tenure as Dr. Who. I know. I know. I’m way behind. But they finally came to Netflix, and I finally have time.
So, just, oh my god. It’s killing me. Just asdfghjkl;idek.
THE FEELS. I am soooooo feeling the feels. I’ve cried so many times since I started watching these… I think I have to revise my former opinion of Tom Baker as my favorite Doctor (loved when the Master offered his companion a Jelly Baby during a recent episode), because David Tennant is simply superlative.
Of course, I haven’t seen some of the other Doctors yet either. Maybe I should hold my options open. ;)
I tried stopping one of my migraine meds last month – Topamax, because I suspect it’s actually *causing* headaches, albeit low-grade chronic headaches instead of huge skullbombs – but in the last week, I’ve had two (!!) classic migraines. The full treatment: blindness, nausea, pain, and sensitivity to light, sound, smells, and movement. Oh, joy. lol So this week, I’ve basically been eating junk food, which makes it worse, because I don’t have the energy for real food. I know. It makes no sense. However, there’s a creature comfort in caffeine-laden soda (OH CAFFEINE, I’ve missed you SO), potato chips, gluten-free pizza, apple crisp (OK, that’s kind of healthy: it’s got apples, oatmeal, and only 4 Tbps of sugar in the whole thing, so there), and Gummi Bears. Yeah. I know. There have actually been healthy meals, but as I spiral down through prodromes and postdromes, not to mention the actual events, I feel less and less like cooking, or cleaning up. I have two sinks full of dishes and have now taken to eating on paper towels so I don’t create any more dishes. :D I’m preferring to think of it as an energy-saving mechanism. (looking shifty)
So, it’s back to the doctor to see if any help can be found for the constant grinding headaches I’ve been having for months now. And back on the Topamax, much as I hate to say it. I am once again in the position of starting to lose hope if not fortitude; after several years of chronic migraines, two years without, and now another year+ with, well… experience indicates that the migraine-free years were the anomaly. I seem to be starting back down the long dark path that has characterized much of my adulthood. :}
The price of those two years without migraines was my marriage, in many ways I won’t delineate here; it’s too personal. However, I’m not eager to experience another such disjointing. It cost me my best friends and the person I had loved most in the world. I’m just starting to rebuild, here and now. I need to keep putting one foot in front of the other, not floating away in some medication-induced zombie state from which I’ll awaken, a couple years on, and not recognize my life. No, thanks.
In the meantime, I woke up this morning at 7:30am with a blind spot and am now waiting out this migraine. Pretty soon the dog’s going to want a walk, and that won’t be a happy moment for Mama. He’s kind of fretting that this week has been so weird. Well, buddy, that makes for two of us. :( Poor little bean.