Sunday, April 28, 2013

T is for Towel

One of the best things (and trust me, there are very few) about being divorced is having a dry towel waiting for me when I come out of the shower. Ex used to drape his towel over mine, causing my towel to soak up the moisture from his.


                                          
Drying off with a wet towel is both impossible and cold. I made the mistake of asking him not to put his towel on mine. That earned me several days of the silent treatment, and, worse, a wetter towel. I think he actually put water on it on purpose after that.
                                      
I didn't make the mistake of asking twice. Screw me once, shame on you. Screw me twice, shame on me.

Saturday, April 27, 2013

S is for Stars

One cold winter night, Ex was bored and wanted to get out of the house. The problem was that he didn't know what he wanted to do. I started throwing out ideas, and he kept knocking each one down. Finally, I hit on something he wanted to do - drive the truck out to the country and look at the stars.

                             
I was pretty excited. How romantic was this? So we bundled up, grabbed some blankets for the truck bed, and headed for the darkness of the country. By this time, Ex and I had been married long enough for me to know that there would be no sex, no matter how romantic the situation. But I had accepted things like this and was just happy to be doing something with Ex.
                           
We finally got far enough away from the city to see the stars. Ex turned onto a dirt road and found a driveway into a field. We got out, laid the blankets in the bed, and got in. It was great. Ex wouldn't touch me, not even to keep warm, but we lay there in comfortable (I thought) silence, just enjoying being together.

Wow, was I stupid.

A few months after that, Ex brought that night up. He told me he was so mad at me and just wanted me to shut up. I was lying there loving him and Ex was lying there hating me. One of my few good memories, ruined.
                           
Cold, clear winter nights still make me really, really sad. And writing this made me cry. And yet, I still miss him. Will I ever come to my senses?

Thursday, April 25, 2013

R is for Robbie

Robbie is the only one who's real name is used here. He's my beloved dog. Robbie is currently snoring beside me on the couch. Little Woof, my other best friend, is on the floor killing a rawhide. Robbie finished his a long time ago.
 


What would I do without my two best friends? I have no idea. They keep me company and are truly wonderful individuals. They keep me on track, too. Woofie growls at me if dinner is late. Sometimes she starts growling early, if she's hungry or bored.

You could say I rescued them from an animal shelter, but you would be wrong. They rescued me from being alone all the time. They are great companions and this post goes out to the faces I love: Robbie and Little Woof.
               
Robbie was my foster dog when I was in the process of leaving Ex. Robbie was scared of Ex and I thought he was scared of all men, but he's not. He was just scared of Ex. Smart dog.

Q is for Quit

I need to quit stalking Ex. How is it that after all of this time and all of this therapy, I still want him to want me? Shouldn't I be done with all of that by now? 

                                                               
Last night, I made a fake facebook account. Found a picture of a beautiful woman and used it for "my" profile picture. Sent friend requests to random people facebook thought I might know.  It took a long time to make it look real. I even picked out favorite books and movies. Finally, I sent Ex a friend request.
                                        
What is wrong with me? Ex was so mean and heartless and I should hate him, not be trying to find out what he's doing these days. I have to quit.

The account is currently deactivated. It is really easy to reactivate it. I have to quit stalking Ex.
                                    
Just. Quit.

Monday, April 22, 2013

P is for Passion

Which I have lost. I have no zest for life anymore. No passion for anything. Life is a drab, dreary existence. It has been a long time since I have been excited - truly excited - about something. I used to love life. I used to look forward to each day, wondering what new and exciting things the day would bring.

                             
How does one reclaim passion? Where did it go and why? There are very few things I even barely enjoy anymore. I was thinking today that I hate my job. My new job I just got. I hate it already. The problem is, there is nothing I would rather do.

                        
Passion is gone from my life. Ex stole it. Or, rather, drained happiness from my soul. I miss being happy. I miss wanting to be alive. I miss having a purpose. I miss me.

Friday, April 19, 2013

O is for Ololygmancy

What does ololygmancy mean? Don't worry; I didn't know, either. Had to look it up. It refers to the practice of telling fortunes by listening to the howling of dogs. Does anyone reading this know how to practice ololygmancy? If you do, please let me know, so I can learn from you. It would be very useful for my full-time job.
                                       
How so? I work at a "pet resort" now. It's my official full-time job. I have three other jobs as well, none of which pays squat. Anyway, back to ololygmancy. What a great word. If I knew how to interpret the howling of dogs, I would be a genius at work.
                                       
I could probably quit and become a pet psychic! That would be fun, no doubt. I don't like my job. It sucks. I run dogs back to daycare all morning and check in boarding dogs and call vets to check on vaccinations. It is stressful. The clients pay a lot, and they expect great service in return. I can see why. If I paid that much, I would want someone who knows what's up, too.
                                   
Guess I will get used to it. This was only my sixth day and there is a lot (!) to learn. I think it will be an easy job once I get the hang of it. If only Ex could see how far I have fallen...

Thursday, April 18, 2013

N is for Night

I used to have insomnia really badly. I could barely sleep, ever. If I had the time, I could generally take naps, but I rarely had time back when I had insomnia.
                                      
Now I sleep like a log. Now, that is, until tonight. I went to a different therapy group today. It's called "Trauma Care" and deals with, duh, trauma. There were so many things we talked about that triggered bad things for me. I can't go back. I won't.

And now here it is, 2:51 AM, and I am still awake. I have to get up to go to work in two and a half hours. That is not a lot of sleep, yo. The group leader said that not being able to sleep was because something traumatic had happened at night and insomnia is the body's was of protecting you. If you don't sleep, maybe nothing can hurt you.
                                            
I hope this doesn't last long. I don't think I can take it again.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

M is for Money

I left Ex over the spring break of 2010 while he was working out of town. He knew I was leaving and didn't care; he had told me, in fact, to get the f*** out of his house. (The audience gasps!) What had I done to offend this man in such a manner that he kick me out of his house? (Yes, when I say "his" house, it's not a typo. He made it very clear that, although we were married, the house was his and his alone.)

Well, I told Ex that we didn't have enough money for him to ride his motorcycle that weekend at a trial race. He didn't actually race motorcycles; he just went to track days and tooled around the track a few times, dropping about $500 in the process.
                                
Ex had been unemployed for several months prior to this job and I was in school full time, so there was not a lot of extra money. Oh, and did I mention that not only was I in school full time, but I was also working three part time jobs to try to make ends meet?
                             
We were completely in the red and had been for months. He got so mad at me. Loaded up the bike anyway and raced it, despite our not being able to afford it. After, of course, he screamed at me to get the f*** out of his house.

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

L is for Love

Shouldn't this be the easiest one to write? After all, we were married. Doesn't that mean that I loved Ex and he loved me? Isn't love a prerequisite for marriage? If not, should it be?
                                
The tyranny of the "should"s. Anyone who has spent any time in therapy has probably heard this phrase. I don't know who to attribute the phrase to, but it's a good thing I don't, because I hate it. I grew up "should"-ing myself. It's how I got through life up until now.

Now I'm trying to live without all of the "should" burden. It's a lot harder than one might think. For example, this post is called "L is for Love" and "should" be about love, shouldn't it? "Should" doesn't look like a word anymore. I should know how to spell it by now, at least.
                                      
So, maybe Ex should have loved me or not married me. I don't know for sure. All I know is that I loved Ex and thought he loved me. I should have known better.

Monday, April 8, 2013

K is for Knight

Before we got married, Ex was my knight in shining armor quite a few times. There was the time I was at school and felt so sick I didn't think I could even make it to my car. True, I was parked about a mile from school, but still. So I called Ex and he came to get me and took me home.
                               
Then one day, my car wouldn't start and Ex came out and saved me again. When it was time to move out of my house and into his, Ex came over with his truck and the two of us completed the move in no time.
                      
After we got married, I called AAA. Ex didn't care anymore.
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