Alone Again… Naturally

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Two years and two days have passed since I met WFB (Whole Foods Boy). A little over one week ago I asked him to move out. Alcoholism and depression are motherfuckers and I can handle one, but not both. He basically moved in with me last summer, though he was still under a lease with his roommate for six more months. It was June of last year when he “moved in.” I asked him to stop living in my house if he wasn’t at least helping with dishes and mowing the lawn. Three months later, he was in a car accident and had to reveal to me that he had been driving on a restricted license due to not complying with state laws and getting an Interlock Breathalyzer system installed in his car TWO YEARS PRIOR when he got his second DUI. I forgave him the major omission, but still asked him to move back in with his roommate. He never left. In January of this year, he began paying rent and moved all of his things in to my house.

On the subject of alcohol, I’m the kind of person who will buy a six pack of beer that will last me six months. He drinks two or three beers a day for no reason and binge drinks on the weekends, often to the point of belligerence. He doesn’t drink Coors or Budweiser with low alcohol content – he purposefully buys beers in the big bottles that are anywhere from 10-15% alcohol content. I was embarrassed to take him anywhere that alcohol would be involved. In August of last year, we were invited to a party at a local bar. My friend’s friend was paying for all the drinks that night, and I informed WFB of this fact. He still ordered $20, $25, $30 bottles of beer, justifying the expense because “we were all sharing them.” He drank so much that he didn’t remember leaving or the cab ride home. He woke up the next day and asked if we had walked home.

In May, he went to a birthday party without me. I was house-sitting and didn’t feel well enough to attend. He drank so much that at 5:00 am, when he was supposed to be headed to work, he could not blow clean to start his car. His phone was dead and once he left his friend’s house, the door was locked behind him, everyone asleep inside. He walked almost 30 blocks to the house where I was staying, reeking of alcohol and his eyes bloodshot. “Can you take me to work?” he asked when I opened the front door in shock. I dropped him off and barely spoke to him. He was fired the next day. He swears it had nothing to do with his physical state that day.

He sat at home for almost three months, living off of the three months of PTO he had accrued that were paid out to him. He never filed for unemployment. He applied for only 2-3 jobs a week, stating that he had to completely re-write his cover letter every time and “that took a lot of time.” One week into his unemployment, my friend offered him a part time gig in a warehouse that would allow him to make money while looking for a career in something he had more interest. He assured me he was going to continue to apply for jobs while working at this temporary job. It was early August when he finally applied and started working in the warehouse. He is still there. They offered him full time and he is no longer looking for a career that interests him. He says he’s not going to be there forever, but that’s what he said about Whole Foods. He was there for over four years, and his mother was the one who talked him into applying there. He would still be there if he hadn’t been fired. I pushed him into the warehouse job because it was guaranteed income and he could continue the job search while earning some money.

About a month ago, I wanted to try to work things out. I went to his parents (who had just returned from seeing WFB’s brother in rehab) about his problem with drinking and his lack of motivation. There is a long line of alcoholism in their family. His parents promised to help him however they could and supported my decision if I chose to end the relationship. I recently started nursing school and I am not equipped to handle the stress of his depression and alcoholism along with the stress of school. I came home and relayed what I had told his parents. He spoke with them the next day, coming home to tell me that he was going to start AA classes and make an appointment with a therapist. He has been saying for the past six months that he is going to contact his previous therapist and get help. There has been no such contact. He has attended no AA classes. He is not very good at following through.

Four weeks ago, we broke up. Three weeks ago, we tried to work it out. A little over one week ago, we broke up and I asked him to move out. He has yet to look for another place to live. He doesn’t know how to take care of himself, and I cannot mother another man. I saw a six pack in his closet when I moved my printer out of his room two days ago. Some things never change.

He came home crying today, asking me if I’m happy. I simply left the house. I’ve grieved the loss of our romantic relationship for so long that I cannot cry any more about it. I’m sad some days but I am happy others. Some days I want to crawl into his arms and say, “let’s work it out,” but I know I’ll just turn around and change my mind the next day. Love is a bitch.

Downhill

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This has been a bad week.

My visit to Miami was full of mixed emotions. My friends were not in the best of moods while I was visiting. My stay was fun but incredibly stressful. One night I even did yoga on their balcony so I could be alone and meditate.

The person I was falling for broke my heart. I tried to contact him today. The first message to initiate discussion about what in the world happened while I was on vacation. A second message to make sure he was okay and hadn’t hurt himself. I haven’t heard back and I’m contemplating contacting his family tomorrow if I don’t hear from him just to make sure he’s okay.

I opened up the lines of communication with my ex-husband. I miss him. We have texted on and off over the past few weeks. He invited me to our nephew’s party this weekend, then shot in that his new 20 year old girlfriend will be there and she’s excited to meet me. At first, it didn’t seem that weird. However, the more I thought about it, the more uncomfortable I became. I told him I didn’t think I was up for meeting her. The only reason a current wants to meet an ex is to size them up, or at least that’s my experience. Instead of coming out and saying “you were a big part of my life and she wants to meet you,” which he ended up saying later, he said “she’s really nice… I mean she’ll behave.” Seriously? I said I had a bad week and didn’t know if I felt up to meeting his girlfriend this weekend. He asked what was wrong and I told him: the stress of my trip, my heartbreak, my work stress, and finally the ache in my uterus from the IUD I had implanted yesterday. He was pretty nice about things, telling me that he would beat up any guy that wasn’t nice to me and telling me not to stress out about work. Then as we continued texting, he mentioned that his girlfriend and I got our IUDs the same day, so we should be friends. Being the great communicator I am, I told him I really wish he hadn’t shared that information with me. Apparently he is still pretty dense about what is acceptable to discuss and what is not. I won’t be going to my nephew’s party on Sunday. I’m keeping my plans with Kathleen to lounge at the pool.

I have a phone date with Carrie on Sunday evening, and I think it will do wonders for me. I’ve always felt I can tell her anything and everything, and there’s just something about spilling your guts to your best friend in the world that makes life seem a little easier. Kathleen has been a wonderful friend to me, and I don’t want to short-change her role in helping me through my recent difficult times. She has RA and her own stresses, but she is always there to listen and tell me when I’m being ridiculous or validate me when I’m actually being rational.

I’m glad I have such great friends, but my heart hurts today. I wish I knew how to heal it.

Stress

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I worry. I worry a lot. I saw my doctor recently for hair loss, weight gain, fatigue, inability to sleep and a few other issues. Blood work was done. The diagnosis? STRESS. Ugh… There are things I have tried to change about myself, and I just can’t seem to make myself relax. I worry about my family, work, my friends, my friend’s problems, my cat, my weight, my appearance, my financial situation, my car… It’s a never-ending list. What did I specifically worry about today? If someone would remember my birthday. It’s such a silly thing, but it’s a little thing that makes me feel so insignificant when it is forgotten (and no, a Facebook post doesn’t count). Every year, my mom sends me a birthday card and it is one of the highlights of my day. One year she sent it late and I was so bummed out, thinking she had forgotten. It arrived the next day, and I felt so ridiculous for being sad. J remembered my birthday maybe once in seven years. I would hint for weeks then days leading up to my birthdays. He always waited until the last minute. After three or four years of marriage, I got off work a little early and headed home to see J backing out of the driveway. When he returned, he said “happy birthday” and handed me a Target bag of things he had obviously just purchased. One month before our marriage dissolved, he completely forgot. We were driving to my parents house on my birthday (a Sunday) and I started crying. I told him it hurt my feelings that he didn’t even so much as give me a card to acknowledge the day. His response? That we were going to my parents’ house to celebrate and he wanted to do something a different day. What? The next day (Monday), he had a card sitting on the counter for me in the kitchen, “Happy birthday week!” hand-written on the inside. Tuesday, he took me out to dinner. Wednesday… nothing. He said I was mad at him about something Tuesday night so he didn’t feel like continuing what he started for me. He’s still single, ladies!

A close friend (I was a bridesmaid in her wedding four years ago) broke my heart last year when she forgot my birthday. It wasn’t just the forgotten birthday, but several events that lead to our dissolution, but I digress. In early May, I flew out to Tucson for Angry’s graduation on Jami’s birthday, but I stopped by the office with her card and gift on my way to the airport to make sure she felt special on her day. She said it meant a lot to her that I came by to see her before I left and how she really valued our friendship, blah blah blah. Two months later, she wrote “Happy Birthday, Lady!” on my Facebook wall but that was it. Two weeks later was her last day at the office. She didn’t tell me goodbye before she left, later saying she knew she’d see me around and there were so many other people to tell goodbye. Side-note: In March of this year, I made a stupidly emo post on Facebook about how I had felt very sad but got over it when I realized what a great group of friends I had and how supportive they are. That prompted her to private message me, our first contact in several months. In short, she wished me happiness and I told her that though we didn’t talk much, I still loved her and she would always be my friend. Her reply: “Ditto.” Now every time I hear or see that word, I cringe.

My birthday has never been about material things. I remember being very upset with my grandparents as a child when they gave me money as a present. I told my mom it didn’t seem right to give someone money as a gift because it didn’t require any care or thought. Yes, I can be a last minute gift purchasing procrastinator like most people, but I would like to think my gifts are fairly thoughtful. I don’t know why it’s so important to me, and maybe one day I won’t give two shits if I hear the words “happy birthday” uttered in my direction.

I leave for Miami tomorrow to visit a friend. I am unbelievably excited to see her and visit Florida. However, I am STRESSED! I keep thinking I’m going to forget something. I know I can buy what I forget and that’ll be just fine. I’m going to miss Luna Tuna Pants. I’m sure that surprises everyone that the divorced lady will miss her cat. She is super adorable, though. Exhibit A:SAMSUNG

 

That belly is the best… Kathleen is going to come over and feed her every day while I’m gone (though I’m sure she wouldn’t die without food for 6 days) and maybe she’ll run her around my apartment. I hope I remember to take out the trash. It smells horrendous and that will totally suck to have to take it out when I get back.

I’m working my way into rambling today. I promise to stay a little more on point next time.

I’m a Compulsive Over-Analyzer

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I read my horoscope most days and I like to think that there is a little truth in the signs. I feel like I have quite a few traits of Cancerian nature, but I’m not a firm believer that my best love match is a Scorpio, Pisces or Taurus as the Zodiac tells me. That said, I found this website (based on a book my friend showed me) that gives a pretty detailed view into one’s personality traits based on their birth date. I don’t know how to make a link fancy, so here’s the ugly link (if anyone attempts this, you’ll probably have to copy and paste. Sorry.):

http://www.thesecretlanguage.com/check/birthdate/

Anyway, I was dicking around on that site a few months ago doing some weird, crazy lady stuff. You know, looking up ex-boyfriends and such. As I read more about my supposed self, I felt like there were a few targets missed, but there were a lot of things that were spot on. The header of my specific birth date? Experienced Dark Pragmatist. Sounds about right. I read a few paragraphs then saw a list to the side: “Traits of this day: Pragmatic, Protective, Responsible, Armored, Smothering, Insensitive.” Yes, yes, sure, YES, yes, WHAT?! It called me insensitive! But my friends call me “mom!” I’m always there for my friends and family when they ask. But that’s not the definition of sensitive. Am I insensitive to my loved ones? Shit!

At first I thought, “eh, it’s just a silly website.” Though the more I thought about it, the more I realized I really am insensitive. When one of my friends tells me something bad happened to them, my first instinct is to tell them a similar story that affected me. This isn’t to “one-up” them, but rather to help them feel that their situation isn’t so bad. However, that’s in my mind and probably ends up sounding like I am trying to “one-up” or undermine their problem. The problem is, how do I fix it? How do I stop the “well this is what I did in that situation…” and just listen and be supportive?

Good example: I have a sweet fellow in my life. I’m two hours ahead, so we don’t get to spend tons of time together during the week because we both work and I go to bed at old lady time. He’s still really good at making me feel important. He sends me kisses and hugs and draws cute pictures for me. He called me last night on his way out with some friends just to tell me “goodnight.” I’m a dick. Why? Because he went to the ER with food poisoning today and then apologized for not texting me all day. He felt badly for not giving me attention, even though he was ridiculously ill! I said I was sorry, but then proceeded to say “I had food poisoning once. It took about 48 hours to feel normal.” Totally insensitive! I should have said, “I know I can’t be there physically to comfort you, but is there something I can do?” I should have offered to read to him, like he does for me. Or I could sing to him or do SOMETHING… Ugh.

I wish I didn’t have lady brain i.e. ability to blow a situation way out of proportion by over-thinking and over-analyzing. I’m sure it’s not that big of a deal. Or maybe it is? Am I stressing too much about this? HELP!