Ex has a girlfriend.

If I were tallying up the divorce events that I would expect to send me into devastation, this is one of those matters. However, I find myself relatively calm at this revelation. Why? Because I know Ex is an amazingly bad judge of character, and while I TRULY am not wishing bad upon him, I can already tell you how this is going to end. Disaster.

However, this news does cause me to assess my own incredibly limited dating adventures. Goodbyegal and I had an opportunity to delve into the magnificent world of dating when she came to her visit at Divorce House. I’ll admit we weren’t giving it our serious “all” and stuck to the free, “fun” sites rather than the more serious, pay websites. But still – we got a chance to sample what’s out there in the wonderful world of single-hood. I have to tell you – it was pretty bleak. If, by some chance, I was drawn to men 20 years my senior, who promised to make me a good “lovaa”, then I suppose I would be enchanted with the replies I’ve had thus far. Or, if I accepted that constant chat replies of “LOL” constituted a conversation, then I would be ravenously conversing with a plethora of eligible men. And, while I really don’t consider myself a “snob”, I do require some use of punctuation, some basic concepts of grammatical structure, and some ability to conceptualize thoughts beyond your own head. Oh – and one more thing – photos of your “little You” within 24 hours of “meeting” is an absolute No-Go.

So, I have been disappointed on the Dating Train, thus far, and I’m going to hop off for a while. Truthfully? I may be hard to please, but when I DO find someone I can have a decent connection with, I tend to engage too quickly, and I think that’s probably a dangerous proposition for me at this point. And – in a self-proclaimed “whoa-is-me” moment – I don’t think I can handle anymore disappointment at this time. Blondie told me that I am selling myself too short, and she’ probably right. While I may long for and CRAVE the intimacy I once had, I need to learn that I really can live without it – just hopefully not for too long. And if this forced sabbatical gives me a chance to focus on ME, then it’s really all in my best interests.

My memory is cruel.
I’m queen of attention to details,
Defending intentions if he fails.
Until now, he told me her name.
It sounded familiar in a way.
I could have sworn I’d heard him say it ten thousand times.
Oh, if only I had been listening.
“Between the Lines”Sara Bareilles

Confession #1: I’m afraid if I blog about it, it won’t happen.
Confession #2: I’m afraid if I blog about it, it will happen.

One of my first thoughts after the EX-odus was that that this was my chance to go home. Home is in the Northeast, where I am I originally from. My foray into living in the South was supposed to be a interim experience after I graduated from college. But then I met Ex, and now it is ten years later.

So, when he told me he was leaving, I figured this is my chance. It was a sign. It was a return to my destiny. I can finally go home. But – it’s not as easy as it sounds. I’ve established a career down here. I have a home. My parents are here, and I have an existent, albeit  fledgling social life. I have everything I need for a “life”, or sorts. I know this, and I think this – but all it takes is for to return to my empty, quiet house after work to realize that this isn’t what I really want. Or is it?

So, I started applying for jobs. I had great momentum at first, searching the job sites and sending resume after resume. I had a few promising bites and one almost offer before the job hunt went cold. I resigned myself to the fact that I would be “stuck” here for a little while longer, when it came: The Call.

It was the very last resume that I sent in. I remember how carefully I tucked it into it’s resume folder before sending it along to the hiring manager. The job sounded perfect. The location ideal. It would be the last resume that I sent, and I knew this. A lot of importance was attributed to these few sheets of paper, and I sent them on their way with hope and anticipation. And then they called. And I had an interview. And then they called again. And now I have a second interview. And if this happens – I will be moving halfway across the country and starting a whole new life.

<Just breathe>

I am trying to maintain all my strength for this adventure. I know deep down I need to do this, but giving up all that I have on the surface here is disconcerting and, frankly, causing me some incredible anxiety. But then I think about how I thought my life WOULD turn out, and it didn’t include living in the state I’m living in. Once, years ago under a bad bout of jet lag, I had a dream that I had returned home to live in the state I’m from, and I woke up distressed at the realization that I did not and I wondered – why? Why don’t I live in the place I was perfectly happy at? Why I am here? Is this my dream come true?

It’s hard to know what is the “right” decision to make. I’ve got back up plans in place in case this adventure fails, but I hope it doesn’t. Ex told me once I’ve never failed at anything, and while I’m not sure this is true, it was good to hear. I just know that if I don’t take advantage of this opportunity, the wonderings of “what if” will probably get the better of me. And that is probably what would bother me most of all.

So, wish me luck …

such boundless pleasure
we’ve no time for later now
you can’t await your own arrival
you’ve 20 seconds to comply
so let go, jump in
oh well, whatcha waiting for
it’s alright
’cause there’s beauty in the breakdown
“Let Go”by Frou Fou

Once upon a time, there was a girl, and she was loved.

In the great sea of available men, the girl selected her Prince at the tender age of 22. He was not like all the other princes. He came from a childhood of intense poverty largely unfathomable by today’s generation, and he never once complained. Disease had struck him at an early age, leaving him not bitter, but inspired and introspective. The Prince crafted words like poetry and demonstrated a thoughtfulness she had not encountered yet in her short life. Her prince had passion for his ideas, a longing for greatness, and a zest for life that made her want more her. But alas, the prince was missing once key element to his throne: he could not love. Enough.

Prince married his Princess almost six years ago in a perfunctory ceremony that, while fun, seemed like the next logical step in securing the kingdom. The Prince and Princess then began to experience the usual ups and downs of the monarchy ~ restless peasants, disagreements over the crown jewels  and fair maidens near and far. The Princess was patient – understanding the rigors that came with this responsibility, and perhaps even experiencing some similar feelings of her own. But no matter what battle invaded their pearly gates, the Princess did not lose any love or affection for her Prince. Unfortunately, the same could not be said in return.

One day, when the Prince went away, the Princess assumed he would not be returning. She kicked and cried, beheaded prisoners for distraction and summoned court jesters from great lands. The Princess even set about on a quest to love again, looking for her next prince in a distant land called Dating Profiles. Until- much to her surprise - the Prince came sulking back on a rainy Friday night. The Princess welcomed him with open arms. “My fairytale can continue”, thought the Princess, as though nothing ever changed.

But, like all good tales we weave, this one does not have “that” kind of happy ending. Try as he might, the Prince, dejectedly, admits he is not capable of great love. In her heart, the Princess aches for the Prince, and for the Kingdom they built together. But their fundamental differences tear them apart again, leaving a longing for once was, and the glimmer of feelings that remain.

In the end, the Princess must settle for this knowledge: her Prince is not capable of being the man she needs him to be. And in their brief, fleeting reunion, they cling to the fairy tale that once was and dream about the good things in each other that brought them together in the first place. But the reality that hits them both by Monday morning is this: they are not each other’s happy ending. So they move on in silent revererie, remembering that at one time, they were both loved, and that someday, hopefully, they will love again.

I knew something was up with Ex said he wanted to “talk”. He arrives on my doorstep on Friday night, bottle of wine in hand. He looks good – hair cute, face shaven, clothes ironed. He barely waits until I’ve made it through the door.

“I want you back”. Ex states. Is that a tear I see in those eyes?

I look at him, waiting for the punchline.

I suppose in my heart, these are the words I have wanted to hear. What woman scorned doesn’t want to believe that the object of her long-term affection “wants her back”. This is a victory, is it not? I have proven that I AM indeed the one. That I’m the one who “gets’ his quirky ways. That I understand his boundaries and his life ambitions. That I know what Ex can and can’t be.

But I find myself oddly numb to this revelation. Is this perhaps… indifference? Ex doesn’t have a right to do this to me. You can’t tear out and stomp on someone’s heart, only to attempt to resuscitate it three months later. Ex deals in such finite statements – can he truly believe that even HE can take them all back? Or, should I look at this as what it might be – a bump in the road for which all relationship endure and for which needs recovery. We said some things I’d long suspected, and that needed to be said, but is it too little, too late?

Do I feel about him the same as I once did?

We aren’t fighters. In explaining our break up to people, it’s difficult to say what went “wrong”. There were no knock down, drag out fights. There was no cruelty, no abuse, and in many ways, there wasn’t even any misunderstanding. Ex and I were careless with our relationship, that’s for sure – but is this something we can work on? Why is it that no matter what goes on in my head, I can’t help but feel that I deserve better?

Ex and I have left things open ended, the ball being in my court. He wants to come home, a matter which I won’t consider for at least another month or two. In the meantime, I’ve got a lot to think about, including a job interview for a far away place I still feel is my destiny. In the meantime, I’ve got a lot to think about. Overwhelmingly so.

I love to put things off. Especially when it comes to processing my emotions. I’d rather pack them away in a dark corner of my head with the good intentions of dealing with them another day. But there is only so much time you can put them off before they begin to seep out and you can no longer avoid dealing with them.

I had become so overwhelmed by my emotions and stress of my impending divorce over the past few months that I decided I needed to get away. So, I headed to Divorce House (aka @SingleGal’s home). I spent very little time thinking about Ex and all the things that I had left undone. Instead I spent a lot of time thinking about me and about all the things I’d need to focus on to bring myself back to a point where I can feel confident, independent, and truely worthy of all the things in life that have and the things that I desire and deserve.

I’ve lost a lot of my self confidence over the years as a result of my relationship. I put on a lot of weight and stopped caring about my health. I accepted that this was to be my life. I felt that I didn’t deserve anything more and I even felt fortunate to have found someone who wanted to be with me despite my appearance. I blamed myself for the fact that I was not being loved in the way I desperately wanted to be. I figured I must have done some horrible things in a past life and I was paying for it now.

I’ve returned from my exile to Divorce House determined and deicated to renewing and rebuilding me. I immediately felt the return of all those emotions I had left behind – irritated by Ex and his lack of ability to do anything around the house with out me hand holding and nagging him to the point where I just want to scream and sob at once. I feel a depression creeping up on me as I look around at the state of my house and all of the maintenance and cleaning I have let go in hopes that he would step up or better yet, some magic house fairy would come along and wave a wand to make it disappear.

I’m going to take a deep breath and look to the future and invision myself in a better place six months from now. I’m returning to an office position to get me out of the house and into a more social and structured work environment, I’ve returned to the gym and will make that my priority. I’ve set myself a goal and challenged @SingelGal to see who can drop 40lbs by Labor day. I’m doing my best to keep positive thoughts in my head at all times.

I will do it!

Relax ~ I can worry no more! I have discovered the reason for all of my recent life events. The cause of all my problems is not Ex. It is not my impending divorce. It is not my crumbling life nor my whacked out emotional state. No, it is much clearer, much simpler, much more scientific.

My problem is Jupiter.

A recent trip to Cassadaga, Florida – Spiritualist Camp extraordinaire and an adventure I highly recommend – lead me to Georgia, the psychic of my destiny. Georgia, it seems could feel me coming. She knew she’d be doing a reading for a Scorpio today, and in I walked. After plopping in my birth date, place, and time, she declares that my aura is giving her a headache. Georgia then produces a series of astrological charts, in which Jupiter, my nemesis planet, is the cause of all my undoing. Since birth, Jupiter has been stalking me, causing my life events to align and then to crash – leaving debris all over my life plan. The lines and the charts all intersect into one giant triangle, with me in the middle, and joy and happiness just out of my reach. Could be worse, Georgia says. It could have been Neptune.

“It’s causing you to cock-block your happiness”, Georgia said. “You need to cut it out”. I understand.

My “House” of Tarot finds the infamous Death Card high up on the top, peering down at all the other cards with a wicked grimace.

“You need to clean this shit out”, Georgia says. “Now”. She holds her head again, my aura apparently causing a migraine.

To start, she proclaims that I must stop talking to Ex. For good. Subtle, necessary communications are OK, but that I’ll never let go if I attempt to maintain a friendship. It startles me to hear this from a perfect stranger. It’s the same thing my friends have been telling me for weeks, but for some reason, their words fall on deaf ears. But Georgia – the self proclaimed “spooky Kabbalist” with the piercing eyes - affects me. I know I need to do this.

Second, Georgia talks about my pit of despair. “You’re such a hopeless romantic”, Georgia states, one eye slightly slanted. “And you’re stuck in the muck at the bottom of the pond. You’re going to need to pull yourself out. Slowly”. Then she pops a couple of Advil.

I nod my head and will my aura to calm down. Georgia has not mentioned any colors about me. I imagine they must clash.

Lastly, Georgia ends our session by advising me I need to figure out what I want. “Do you know?” she asks. I am taken aback. No one has asked me what I want in a very, very long time, and at this point, I truly don’t. “How are you ever going to get this House in order if you don’t know what you want? You need to make a list. Write down everything you want. And be specific. I mean REALLY specific. And don’t waiver. Or I’ll be seeing you here again next year”. She rubs her temples.

She escorts me to the door and I begin to compose my list in my head. Fuck Jupiter, I think. I’m going to find a NICE planet, like Mercury or Pluto to guide my way. I am going to make a list of the “things” I want – in life, in love, in myself – and I’m going to stick to it. And I’m going to get my “House” in order, metaphorical, figurative, literal. On my next visit, I want that Death card to be no where in sight. And for goodness’ sake, I don’t want to lay Georgia up in bed with a headache for another day.

So a list I’ve made. Stay tuned …

This past week, I opted to exercise my divorce-right to self-destruct.

A serious of life vignettes, topped off with drama and disappointment, led me to push away just about everyone who would come close to me. Somehow, this seems natural. I mean, that’s what you are supposed to do, right? When one person vacates your life for the high seas, aren’t you supposed to push everyone out in dingies and see if they come floating back? So, that’s what I did. ALL week long.

I get very attached to people. It’s the loyal Scorpio in me. It doesn’t matter how long they’ve been there, or sometimes, if I’ve ever even MET them. If you strike my fancy, then we are fast friends. But I’m not socially promiscuous: I’d far prefer to have a smaller, intimate group of awesome friends than have hundreds of them that make little blips here and there into my life. But, this makes the Push-Away game far more dangerous, because inevitably, you are bound to lose someone if you push too hard.

I want to test everyone. I want to know if they too are going to be signing off the way Ex did, or if they will deem my presence far more worthwile. I want to see if they can stand by me while I have completely skewed and distorted visions of my life. And then I want to retreat. I want to disappear as though I never even existed, and see if anyone missed me when I come back. I want to see who cares enough to stick around.

It’s not a worthwhile venture. These aren’t safe emotions and it’s an incredibly ridiculous waste of time. My surface knows this and shouts it at my head and my heart who, frankly, have the worst case of life ADD they’ve ever experienced. But I hope it keeps shouting. It’s not a game I really want to play, and I’m tired of having to use my pitiful divorce as an excuse for my behavior. I just want to be ME again – the person everyone signed on to love in the first place. And I know I will, once this personality vacation comes to a much needed-end. But in the meantime, hang in there, People! Grab and oar and row on back to me.

I need you.

*Sigh*. Called the Divorce Lawyer today, or the “DIL”, as I henceforth refer to him. In my twisted recall, the conversation went a little something like this:

Ring Ring

DIL: “Hello. Divorce Lawyer (DIL) here. How can I reconstruct your life today?”
Single: “Yes, I’d like a divorce please”.
DIL: “Fantastic! You’ve come to the right place. Now, let me start by asking you a few questions. Will you be having an Acrimonious, Passive-Aggressive, Frenemy, or Friendly Divorce”.
Single: “We plan on having a Friendly, with all rights reserved to switch to Passive-Agressive”.
DIL: “Fabulous! We’re having a special on Friendly/Passive-Aggressive for the month of June. Now, will you and Ex being coming in together?
Single: “Yes”
DIL: “Great. How should I arrange the furniture? Table style, plate glass needed, sharp objects removed, separate rooms with cups on long strings …”
Single: “I believe table style will be acceptable, but I’d like to be within slapping distance.”
DIL: “Understood. Now, most people file as irreconcilable differences. Is that what you would like to file as?
Single: “Is ‘gigantic mistake made after a bender in Vegas’ an option?”
DIL: “No”.
Single: “OK, then we’ll go with the irreconcilable one.”
DIL: “Great. Now, you know this is going to cost you hard earned money you don’t have, right?”
Single: “I sure do.”
DIL: “And that all I’m going to do is push paperwork around and ask uncomfortable questions?”
Single: “Yup”.
DIL: “OK – then I am at your service. Are you free on Tuesday?”

*Sigh* again. On the positive side, I think I have found something I’m going to like less than going to the dentist! Remind me to hug my dental hygienist.

Building, tumbling down
Didn’t know our love was so small
Couldn’t stand at all
Tori Amos ~ “Caught a Light Sneeze”

Sandra Bullock: “Daddy, were you loved enough?”
James Garner: “Oh, how much is enough?”
~ Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood (2002)

I’m in a letter writing mood today.

Dear Ex: I hope this letter finds you not dead …

No, no, no – too nice.

Dear Ex: Checking in to see if your heart is growing back. It’s a medical miracle, for sure!

Hmm…. too obvious…

Dear Ex:
It’s been two months since you rolled over in bed, patted my head, and told me you were leaving. I’m writing today to see how grand your new life is going. Does it contain all the wonder and excitement you’d hoped for? Is it filled with mystery, intrigue and adventure? Have you discovered the secret land of happiness you were seeking? And how about love?

My life is not so grand. I discovered today that I have a not-so-neat little divorce emotion that’s been rearing it’s ugly head quite frequently. Basically, I cry whenever people are nice to me. That’s right – I cry. And not tears of joy – tears of pain. Why? Well, the way I see it, these are largely people who don’t HAVE to be nice to me, outside of their obligation to be civilized, law-abiding human beings. They are not people that I purchased a home with, or walked down an aisle and made a lifetime commitment to, or even people that I share cats with. These are not people that I revolved my entire life around. I did not move to a foreign state to live with these people, leaving behind my friends and family. I did not work in jobs I didn’t want to work in just to have enough income to help support these people. I have never held any of their hands when they were rushed to the hospital for an allergic reaction to a bee sting. And not one of them has seen me naked.

Yet here they are, doing and saying nice things to me, leaving a small mark on my life. And I cry. I cry because I don’t know where my next nice comment will come from. I’m uncertain if and when anyone will be there again to hold my hand when I’m sick, or care about my my aching back. I cry because the one person who’d signed on for this duty jumped ship without any warning at all, and I fear that at anytime, these nice people could, too.

You’ve made me doubt mankind. You’ve taken me, a generally well-adjusted, positive, caring individual, and made her a broken shell of herself. You’ve displaced a healthy self confidence and instilled self-doubt. You’ve broken so many dreams, it’s hard to remember what they all were, and you’ve made me wonder if you ever really loved me. You make me sound bitter when I am not. I get to mull over these thoughts all day long, and I can’t make them go away.

So, I hope you’re doing well in the little fantasy land you wanted to create for yourself. I hope your universe is shinier without me in it, and that your quest for the great big unknown takes you to the wide-open spaces you feel so sure are out there for you. More than anything, I hope karma puts a ban on you so that you don’t love again until you really, truly mean it and intend on seeing it through. I hope, more than anything. you don’t do this to someone else.

Willing Inner Peace and Calm into my Existence,

Single Gal

Today I reached a milestone in my journey to independence. I have been avoiding my family, as I’ve mentioned in previous posts, and realized one of the reasons why. I am ashamed and embarrassed about the reason for my deciding to leave Ex.

I spent the morning tearing up just thinking about seeing them. Knowing they are wondering and expecting them to ask me “why do you want to leave?”. Though they never come out and ask me, they just say “are you sure?”, “isn’t there any reconsideration?”. They really love Ex and He’s going to totally block them out, he already has. When I told him the plans for the evening that involved a family gathering, he said he wasn’t going and left the house when I was in the shower. I really don’t blame him. He feels like a failure in their eyes and I am sure he thinks I’ve told them all sorts of stories and such.

I have a ton of anxiety when it comes to talking to his family. Again, I’m embarrassed and I really don’t know what he has been telling them about me or about us. I’ve been avoiding all interaction with them as well for some time now. More so then my own family. I don’t know why it has to be this way, but how can you retain extended family when you are hurting the one they love more?

My Dad met me in the driveway. I had been crying the whole ride and when I saw him the dam broke and my face flooded with tears. He gave me a hard time for not coming over or calling more often. I’ve never been one to pick up the phone and call, but I probably should make an effort.

I wish I had the courage to sit them down and lay it all out, but instead I chickened out and told my Step-Mother. I didn’t get into a lot of details, but gave her a very cliff notes version, enough that she would have some understanding. I’m sure she will tell my Father or should I say hope? And Hopefully she will be more supportive of his wanting to help me through this.

I told them I was leaving to visit SingleGal on Friday and that I hadn’t yet purchased my return ticket. They agreed I should get out of the house, which is the main cause for my depression and being withdrawn. I cried the whole way home and found Ex had already gone to bed. He’s pretty depressed about the fact that I am going out of town and haven’t decided when I will come back.

I’m sure he is scared that I won’t come back, ever. That I’ll stick him with the bills and run off to party and have a good time with my life. Well, I fully intend to, but I also realize my responsibilities and know that I can’t run forever, however a few weeks wont hurt.

It was great being with my family today and to feel supported and loved in that family kinda way. I feel as though I am finally making progress towards the goal of a new life. On to the next challenge!