Z is for Zest

I don't know what has happened to me. I have no zest for life anymore. I miss feeling happy. I miss feeling sad. I miss feeling. If you have read much of this blog, you know that a lot of bad things have happened lately. And not-so-lately. I've been in therapy since February, 2012 and currently feel that I am going backwards.
                                         
Before, taking two steps forward and two steps back didn't rob me of my zest for life. But then I lost my purpose, and then I lost my drive, and now I've lost my feelings. I would say I can't live like this much longer but that would be false. I'm not really living now. I exist. That is all. I breathe. I can't exist like this much longer.

                                
My therapy group disbanded and now I'm stuck with either no group or trauma group, neither of which is appealing to me. I'm seriously considering just quitting therapy altogether. If I feel this crummy with all of the therapy and all of the medication, why bother?

Y is for Yawn

All I want to do lately is sleep. I don't have fun doing anything at all, even though things are going pretty well right now. Okay, $23 short of "well". I'm $23 short on rent this month. I can pay it, just have to put some cash that I was trying to save in the bank. Ha! As if I can afford to have savings.
                                         
Funny how I start out with yawning and it turns into a poverty story. That's the way my mind works, though; it just flits from one thought to another with very little rhyme or reason. If I had my way, I would cuddle with my dogs all day and sleep all night. I would never get up except to take care of my dogs. We would go on walks and hang out in the backyard. I wouldn't mind napping in the backyard.

                                  
At work, all I do is yawn. It's crazy. I can sleep 12 hours and still be sleepy. I tried barely sleeping at all, but it makes no difference. I'm just sleepy all of the time. Wishing I was in bed. I wish I was asleep right now. In fact, I think I'll go take a nap before bedtime. *yawn*

X is for Xenoplastic

Xenoplastic: involving distantly related individuals.

Am I still related to my in-laws? I haven't had any contact with any of them since the divorce, but does that mean we aren't related anymore? Is xenoplastic not a word that describes us?
                                     
Ex's Uncle B and Aunt J were really nice to me the whole time Ex and I were dating and then married. They had us over for dinner a lot, and we went to their church a few times. I miss them. His sister told me I was the sister she never had. Ex's mom liked me more than she liked Ex. But I accept that, in divorcing Ex, I removed myself from his circle of relatives.
                      
Did Ex accept that as well? No. He did not. Ex continued to talk to my brother-in-law and they are still facebook friends, even though my brother-in-law knows it bothers me. Ex even went to their house once after the divorce! That nearly killed me when I found out he had been there. I felt betrayed. It still hurts. He didn't think of xenoplastic as relating to him. Ex was exempt from normal societal rules.

As I'm writing this, I can't believe my sister invited Ex into her home. I saw a picture of him with his arms around MY nephews. The pain is sharper than it should be, this long after the fact. I am unbelievably angry right now.

W is for Whirlwind

I just got caught up in a whirlwind. I somehow managed to land a job at a local website that wants me to be in charge of their blog. I'm currently looking for two writers to fill positions. How crazy is that? Me, with the power to hire and fire? Just last week, I was a lowly customer service representative at a doggie daycare and now look at me.

                                      
I can't quit my day job. Yet. I'm busy checking my new blog email to find resumes and the like. I'm so excited! Wish me luck in my new whirlwind! And yes, I'll still write this blog. This is my baby. I just have two babies now.

V is for Vehicle

Ex was not usually a bad driver. My dad was a very aggressive driver and frequently terrified the whole family with his anger and bad decisions. One thing I looked for in a man was for him to be a good driver. Ex was. His vehicle was a Toyota truck, and he took great pride in keeping it clean and running well.
                               
Until the day we left the library to find the truck, which was parallel parked, squished in between two cars. There was enough room to wiggle out by going backwards and forwards quite a few times, but Ex was having none of that.
                    
He backed up just a little and then rammed the car in front of us, breaking their tail light and his headlight. I was shocked but said nothing. If he was mad, there was nothing I could do to make the situation better. So I just sat there. I think I may have even laughed. I'm not proud. But what else could I have done?

                       

U if for Ufology

Ex and I were making a 13-hour drive to visit my little sister. It was a dark, clear night, and I was driving. Ex wasn't sleeping but, of course, wasn't talking to me, either. All was quiet. And tense.
                                      
Suddenly, there was an extremely bright green light high in the sky. It just lasted a few seconds and then was gone. Ex and I were both very excited and wondered what it was that we had seen. So we listened to After Dark on the radio, and heard other people calling in and talking about the same light.
                                
I will never know what it is that we saw, but I am grateful to that light, whatever it was. It got Ex to talk to me and he forgot to give me the silent treatment for about one hour. It was a nice reprieve.