B is for Blurry

I was driving home from visiting Jailbird yesterday when it suddenly occurred to me that my anniversary is IN JULY. Not June. July. The anniversary of my divorce, then, is also in JULY. Not today. I'm not sure what this means. Am I an idiot for being sad on June 19th for no reason whatsoever, or an idiot for being sad on what I thought was my anniversary. Idiot for wrong date, or idiot for caring?
                       
I wonder. And you know what? I really don't care. I am vaguely curious, but that is all. It doesn't matter anymore. Another thing I realized on my long drive was that the best way to get back at Ex is to get over him. Just not care anymore. This is not something I can make myself do; not something I can choose. It just happened. I mean, I do still care. I do. But to forget the exact date, and to not get upset that I forgot, and to be driving nine hours (round trip) to see another man, that is revenge.
                       
I still worry about Ex's new wife. I still worry about the possibility of Ex having kids, because he is not father material. I still worry about Ex's mother. But I don't worry about Ex anymore. I used to be sad on his birthdays, because he had no one to care. This year, it passed through my mind, and I wondered if his new wife cared as much as I used to, and tried as hard as I used to try to make it a great day. But I didn't care.
                     
The past is blurry now. I'm okay with that.

A is for Another

True confession time: there is another man in my life. What? Gasp! Can this be true? Well, not in the most technical sense of the word "in" as it pertains to "in my life." The dude is in jail, which is over three hours away, and I rarely talk to him and visits are even more rare. So is he really in my life? Well, yes, in the darkest sense of the word "in." I miss him. I think about him. He is still in my life.

He asked if he could parole to my house.

Show of hands, all who think this is a good idea? Anybody? Hello?
                       
Yeah, I thought not. I agree - not a good plan. Another man moving in with me may not be such a bad idea, but this man? I mean, dude is in jail, and not for robbing a parking meter. Why am I mentioning him now? Well, I'm going to visit him tomorrow. It is his birthday. We celebrated his birthday in fine style the first year I knew him. The next year, he was in jail, and this year, his dumb ass is still there. He actually did get out, but violated his parole and went right back in. Happy birthday to you, my fine friend.
                       
I know how to pick winners. All of the men I have ever seriously dated (or married, oops) have spent time in jail. Most for one or two nights, two for over a year. I think maybe I should try another hobby...

Z is for Zilch

It is a funny-looking word: zilch. It also sounds funny: zilch. If one could feel it, one would expect it to feel funny. It's not. It is the opposite of funny. To feel zilch is to feel empty, alone, and desolate. Hopeless. I would say bland, but that word isn't strong enough to convey the absolute blankness of zilch.
                           
I couldn't get up again today. I didn't go to therapy group last night and I barely made it in to work by 10:15 today. That is the latest I have ever been. I try to get here by 8:00. Ha! I usually make it by 9:30. I hate it here. I comfort myself by looking for a new job, but I know that I really, really, really need to keep this job right now. No, I'm not doing anything worthwhile. No, my job does not matter. No, I do not enjoy this job. But no, it does not matter if I am late. What am I saying - I can't be late when I have no set hours. Late does not exist in this job, therefore, I must stay until I can gather up enough inner strength to get out of bed at a reasonable, regular time every day.

I woke up at 5:30 this morning so I could meet a friend for spinning class. I didn't make it. This is not the first time I have not made it. I am lucky she is still my friend. I hate being undependable, but most mornings, my ability to function is zilch. All I can do is lie there and stare at the ceiling and wish I had died in my sleep. The thought of another, long, lonely, boring, endless, stupid day is too much.
                         
My psychiatrist is gradually putting me back on a truckload of medication and I am complying, because, at this point, I either need to have help or just give up and die. So far, the medication is not helping. I also have an appointment with an energy healer. If someone would have told me that I would be seeking help from an energy healer, I would have died laughing. I don't believe in that sort of thing. But it's worth a shot. Zilch sucks. Zilch is all I am right now. Zilch is not a long-term option. Hi, I'm Marcy, and I am zilch.

Y is for Yesterday

Yesterday, I cried for about two hours. I spent one of those hours crying in my therapist's office, half an hour crying in the car outside her office, and another half hour crying at home. Today, my eyes are puffy and my cheeks are still red. I look ridiculous.
                                    
Yesterday, I came face-to-face with the realization that no matter what I do, nothing will change. No matter how hard or long I cry, my mother will never love me. No matter how long I weep, Ex will never magically come back and the past will never change. My husband didn't love me and never will. No matter how many tissues I soak through, I will never matter on this planet. I could go to therapy the rest of my life, and the only thing that will change is my perspective. I could learn to not care that no one loves me. Learn to accept that there is no happy ending for me. Learn that my dogs are the only beings to whom my existence makes a difference.
                                    
Yesterday was rough. Somehow, I managed to come to work today. I do not matter here, either. I'm processing progress notes from May 2013. They have been sitting in a pile for over a year. Yesterday, I processed over 200 notes, and today, I am sitting here playing games on Facebook. It does not matter that I am here. I could go home and it would not make a difference. I could leave and never come back and it would not matter.

Yesterday, I realized that nothing I do matters. What is it that keeps me here? What keeps me going? I don't have an answer to that question.

X is for X Games

The last winter Ex and I were married (as if there were so many of them...), Ex was working in Colorado. He was happy to be there (this is where he lived with the couple and I'm pretty sure he was sleeping with the wife) and spent his weekends sleeping with the wife or out on the mountains. Or both. Who knows? Who cares?
                           
The X Games were in Colorado and he got to go to watch in person. I was at home, talking to him on the phone and watching the games on television. He wanted me to be able to see him, so he found a camera and stood beside it. Um, I can't see you, Ex. You have to be in front of the camera. So he went around the ropes and stood beside the announcer's stand and waved at the camera. I never did see him. But the thought was nice and it made me feel closer to him.

Ex spent a lot of money while he lived there. He owned a snowboard, so at least he wasn't renting that, but the lift tickets were a luxury we really couldn't afford, considering he had been out of a job for months before getting this one. Now that I think about it, I wonder if some of that money went to entertaining the woman he was sleeping with. That never occurred to me until right now. Excellent.
                         
I still watch the X Games when I can. But I don't sit there crying and missing the thought of Ex standing beside a camera and expecting me to be able to see him. What an idiot.

W is for Wedding

My wedding was exactly six years ago today.

V is for Version

When someone tells you a story, you are getting only their version. You have to consider the source while you listen to them and decide what to believe. Even if the person telling the story is 100% trustworthy, you still have to take into consideration the fact that you are hearing their version. 
                       
This blog is my version. I would love to hear Ex's version of this. I think it would go something like this:

"Marcy was crazy and overbearing. I had to walk on eggshells around her. She would yell at me for no reason and cry at the drop of a hat. (Ex was full of clichés.) She was needy and clingy and there was nothing I could do to make her happy. Life with her was a living hell."

Ex frequently told me that he was walking on eggshells around me, and I put in so much time trying to figure out how to make living with me more bearable. I let so much slide. There were countless times when Ex did something that I rightfully could have reacted to, but I didn't, because I was afraid of those eggshells.
                       
I think living with Ex did immense damage to my self-esteem and, finally, killed my soul. I have never thought of myself as special - never thought of myself as lovable. Ex fed that insecurity and nurtured my hatred of myself. I married a man who did not love me and constantly told me how awful it was to live with me. Ex hated it when I breathed.

Watching movies was a favorite pastime of his. I was rarely granted the honor of watching them with him, but on the few occasions I did, we would sit at opposite ends of the couch and I would hold my breath and not move for the entire time. I didn't even realize I was doing it until I left him and watched movies alone and wondered why I didn't get a horrible backache. It was only then that I realized my back hurt through those movies because I had been frozen in place. Ex would get so mad if I sighed, coughed, or moved. He didn't want to be reminded of my presence. He did want to "discuss" the movie afterwards, however. I used quotation marks because it was never a discussion; it was just me agreeing with Ex.

I wonder what Ex would tell you about something so simple as watching movies together. I don't think I want to know his version.

U is for Understand

I get it now. I have been overly moody, irritable, sad, weepy, and not been able to get out of bed lately. I thought it was due to the issues with my therapist, which I still believe play a big part in my mood, but I just had a revelation. I understand now.
                                         
In six days, it will have been six years since Ex and I said "I do." Six years is a long time, yo. Which means we have been divorced for four years. Yes, I was only married to Ex for two years and ten days. Yay, me. I still think I would have been better off if I had stayed with him, not that I really had any choice, considering he kicked me out of the house, refused to speak to me, and then called eleven days after I left, asking what we were going to do about our taxes, since we were getting divorced.
                                           
June has historically been hard for me.

• June 19, 2008: Wedding Day
• June 25, 1975: Ex's birthday
• June 29, 2010: Divorce Day

It seems like there is something else, too, but I can't remember, and making a concerted effort to remember trauma has never been my thing. This year, June snuck up on me. I didn't see it coming. I didn't know it was already here. At least I understand why I haven't been able to get up lately. I'll try to be nicer to myself for the next few weeks. I am my own worst enemy.

T is for Therapy

This post is in two parts: Therapy Past and Therapy Present. Therapy has played a big part in my life recently, so some acknowledgement is due. I guess.

Part One - Past

Ex and I went to marriage counseling. I honestly don't remember our therapist's name, so I will randomly name her Megan and hope that isn't her real name. She was that memorable. We would go sit in her office and she would giggle and say how quiet we were. I didn't talk because I was scared of Ex and also wanted to give him the opportunity to say, finally, why he was so mad at me so I could fix it.
                                  
That's all I wanted - to know what I was doing wrong so I could stop doing that and everything would be okay. I was so naïve. Ex said very little in therapy. He complained about me wanting him to put our dog on a leash on the rare occasions he took her for walks. Well, she was deaf and almost blind and would wander into the middle of the street, and then he would yell at her for not staying with him. That, my friend, is what leashes are for. Megan was no help on this issue. She pointed out flaws in his arguments and he agreed to use a leash from then on. Which means that he just stopped taking her for walks at all, which was fine by me.

We only saw Megan about three or four times. Ex lost yet another job, which meant we had no insurance, since I was still in school and three part-time jobs do not equal insurance. It was no loss.

Part Two - Present

I'm still seeing my current therapist but things are still very strained and I don't know if I can keep seeing her. She doesn't get me. Like, I told her I couldn't make a decision on whether or not to keep seeing her, and she said I didn't have to. So then she texts me the very next morning to see when I can reschedule for next week because she will be out of the office Monday night. Um, I just told you I can't decide. You said I didn't have to. And now you are asking me for a DECISION. Not cool, yo.
                                  
Also bothering me is what my ex-friend said. (She claimed to be my friend and then, when she found out I was upset about her saying rude things to me, decided to just stop calling instead of apologizing.) She said that working for therapists would be good for me, so I could see there were people worse off than I am. Um, no. One, I don't sit around feeling sorry for myself and thinking that everyone else has a better life. And two, I think the world is a horrible place and most people are awful (point in case) and have no regard for anyone but themselves. So reading hundreds (thousands, really) of progress notes detailing people's horrible lives is NOT good for me. It only reinforces my opinion of humans.
                                     
Sometimes I think about just walking away. The problem with that plan, though, is that wherever you go, there you are. I need a new plan.

S is for Sedentary

I am sedentary. That is the best word to describe me at this point in my life. I had made a commitment to go to the gym this morning at TEN and could not get out of bed. I bailed on a six a.m. spinning class, too. I'm afraid my friend will give up on me. She has every right to.

At work, the guy who shares my office gets too hot, plus he is a talkative guy and has figured out that I am not his best audience, so he takes his laptop downstairs most days. I take this opportunity to lie on the floor. I'm that sedentary. That lazy. I can't even sit at my desk sometimes.
                                        
Tomorrow, my therapist will text me a confirmation: "I'm confirming your 6:30 appointment tomorrow. See you then!" I don't know what to say. "Okay." "Yep." Or, "No, I've decided you are right; we need to see other people."

I'm currently blaming my sedentary state on the lack of trust and stability in my therapeutic relationship. I will have to come up with some other excuse once this is straightened out, but it works for now. Excluding the fifteen minutes spent letting my dogs out several times today, I have spent the entire day either in bed or on the couch. I'm on the couch now, trying to work up the energy to get up, let the dogs out for the last time, and then go up to bed. I've been trying to work this energy up for about 84 minutes now. It's not happening.
                                      
I am fatter than I have ever been. Right after the divorce (and also in dental school), I dropped 23 pounds and was too skinny for a long time. I've regained all of those pounds, and they all brought friends, and now I can barely fit into any of my clothes. I'm enormous. I'm gross. I feel disgusting. But I'm typing this while lying on the couch, where I have been all day, and, chance are, will be all day tomorrow, too. I suck.

R is for Reason

Today was "my" dental school class's White Coat ceremony. Each student gets a white coat, symbolizing their transition into the dental profession. They will start seeing a regular roster of patients next week. Their families gathered to celebrate this huge accomplishment with them. The White Coat ceremony is a great reason to celebrate. It is a big deal.

Last Saturday was the graduation of the class of 2014. They are now full-fledged dentists, with real jobs in the real world, helping real patients. What a great reason to be proud of one's accomplishments. It is a big deal.
                          
I was in both of those classes and flunked out twice. Now I put post-it notes on errors that need to be corrected on progress notes so the therapists don't have to give back money in case of an audit. The most common errors are a mix-up of Medicaid numbers, misspelled names, or a male being referred to as a "her." This happens far more than you would think. The reason I was hired was to fix stupid little mistakes that shouldn't have been made in the first place. It is not a big deal. It is so insignificant, I could be sleeping up here and no one would notice for about three weeks.
                          
Today is my weekly revenue tracking day. Meaning, I am working on a 36-page spreadsheet so the owner of the company can see how much money she lost when therapists cancelled appointments. This is the reason for my existence today. Also not a big deal.

My life is meaningless. Sure, I work for a mental health agency. Sure, that should give me some job satisfaction. Nope. Everything I do is connected with money, and if you read my "P is for Proud" post, you know I am not motivated by money. If I'm not motivated by money for myself, I am most definitely not fulfilled by money for someone else.
                         
I have a headache. I watched the White Coat ceremony via live streaming, because I wanted to be able to tell my friends from class that I saw them. I like to be supportive. Today, that support was at a very high cost to me. I think it was too high. I don't think I should have watched it. It hurt. A lot.

I had better get back to tracking someone else's money. I need to find a reason to get out of bed in the morning. I need to find a reason to care. I need to find a reason to live. This isn't it. Is there any good reason? I don't think so.

Q is for Quiz

This quiz is for Ex. Yes, I know he will never see it, and, obviously, never answer the questions. But I think the answers would be very enlightening and I wish he would answer these questions:

1. Do you look at your new wife and wish you were still with me? (I ask this only because I was recently listening to Dido's song, "Don't Think Of Me," and wondered if you think of me. Fondly. Hatefully. Curiously. Regretfully. Ever.)
2. What is your main regret in life? (Marrying me? Leaving me? Locking your mom in a nursing home when all she really needed was to live with someone who cared? Marrying your new wife? Being born?)
3. What is the longest you have ever been able to keep a job? (Seven months? Eight? I know that was about your record when we were together. I remember you got fired from that pizza restaurant about five weeks after you started for not showing up to a shift, so they gave more hours to the teenager that worked with you and fired you. Good job, baby.)
4. Why are you such an ass? (You will have to answer this one without prompts from me. I have no idea what makes you so mean.)
5. Do you have kids? (Please, oh please, let the answer be no, for their sakes. You would be at the top of the "Worst Father" list. Just don't. Please refer to #6 if you haven't yet but are considering reproducing.)
6. How's Karl? (The cat, who you probably abandoned when you left town, either at the house or back at the animal shelter. I would hope you would have at least had the decency to take him back to the shelter, but knowing you, I'm guessing you just left him outside and drove off.)

                         
You know, I think that is all I want to know. You are now done with your quiz, Ex. I will grade it on truthfulness, clarity, and completeness. I would not, if I were unlucky enough to be you, expect a very good grade. It will most likely be down in the 2.1 GPA range that you graduated with. Or less.

Probably less.

P is for Proud

Hey, gang, guess what? I've been nominated for an award. What? You exclaim. An award? Yep. I'm so clueless, I thought my nominator was telling me SHE was nominated for an award, and I'm all, hey, great job! Congratulations! And then I read her post on my blog again, and saw that she had nominated me.
 
Who, you ask, is this kind nominator? None other than Liv by Surprise! I am so honored and so proud and so, well, not speechless, exactly, but...WOW!


                  
The current rules for accepting this award are:

1. List 11 random facts about myself.
2. Answer 11 questions from the blogger who nominated me.
3. Nominate 11 more blogs who have less than 200 followers and let them know they’ve been nominated.
4. Post 11 new questions for those bloggers to answer (if they wish to accept the award—it’s completely optional).

Here goes nothing!!!
 
My 11 random facts:

1. I prefer driving manual transmission cars because I enjoy shifting and making screeching sounds as I turn and shift. No, I'm not a crazy driver. I just like to sound like one.
2. I just bought a three-story house built in 1920 that had a hoarder living in it for 30 years. I will be done remodeling in about 19 years. If I hurry.
3. I was registered on a tutoring web site to tutor algebra and got a request from a woman asking me to teach her daughter Japanese. Which I don't know, and I'm not Japanese. Random enough?
4. I love Coke and Dr. Pepper, but am trying to get healthy and stop drinking chemicals. Easier said than done.
5. I don't like holidays or birthdays. Forced occasions are no fun. I prefer spontaneous gestures of love.
6. I generally order the same thing at restaurants, because I find something I like, and then am sad if I order something else and don't get what I really like.
7. I recently switched from drinking Dirty Shirleys to drinking Tequila Sunrises. The last waitress I ordered one from said, "Ooh, a Tequila Sunrise!" like it was a wild or crazy drink. Is it? I don't know. Didn't think so, but who knows.
8. I love to mow.
9. My favorite color is lime green. It is also my new boss's favorite color, and he will stop in the middle of a meeting and commend me on my choice of color if I am wearing green. Which I normally am, so I get commended in a lot of meetings.
10. I would love to be able to break dance. I'm a huge fan and admire people who can.
11. I am not motivated by money.

                                   
Here are the 11 questions from the blogger who graciously nominated me:

1. You have the opportunity to meet any one living person in the world for tea.  Who do you choose and why?

     I would like to have tea with my whole family. Mom, sisters, nieces, nephews, cousins, aunts, uncles, etc. Why? Because we have had some great times in the past, but I know these great times will never happen again, due to stupid arguments, and I think that is tragic. Or even just tea with my mom, sisters, and their families. Or even just tea with my mom and sisters. Still - not going to happen.

2. What is the best feedback you've ever gotten on your writing?

     This is actually a tough one. Being nominated for this award is HUGE and most definitely the best exposure I have ever gotten. Writing an anonymous blog makes it hard to drum up an audience, so this award is just indescribable. I have also received good feedback from some literary agents, who all said the same thing: they like my book, they like my voice, they like my writing...they don't like that I have no following. So I'm hopeful that this nomination will help that along. Such an honor.

 

3. You are stranded, alone, on a desert island.  What is the first thing that you do?

 

     I'm a little paranoid, so the first thing I would do would be to make SURE that I was, indeed, alone on that island. That might take a long time or just a few minutes, depending on the size and terrain of the island.

                        

4. What actor or actress set your heart aflutter when you were 13?

 

     Always has, always will - Johnny Depp. Yummy.

 

5. What is your favorite flower?

 

     Gold Medal flour. Did I read that question right? Oh, wait. I don't really like flowers that much.

6. Have you chosen the topic for your next blog post? What was your inspiration?

     No. I keep the next letter rumbling around in my head until something pops out. It is usually unexpected and yet somehow timely. The force that inspires me is always telling me to get the darkness out of my soul.

7. What is the last vivid dream that you remember having?

     Ha! When I dreamt I called in and quit my deli job at the grocery store. (I had tried to quit a month before, but my boss yelled at me and then intimidated me into agreeing to work every-other Sunday. I should have stuck up for myself and just said no, but I said yes, and did work my first scheduled Sunday.) I wasn't really intending to quit, especially not via dream. The shift manager called me when I was 45 minutes late and I told him I had dreamt I had called and quit. He didn't really know what to say to that. Goodbye?

8. If you were told that you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, barring any dietary consequences like weight gain or vitamin deficiency, what food would you choose?

     Oh, so easy! Nacho cheese Doritos. All day, every day. Yummy. (Not as yummy as Johnny Depp, but then again, they are in totally different categories.)
                                    
9. What blogger has inspired you the most and why?

    I had to think for a long time about this one. Lately, I have been enthralled with Laura Packer:   Not sure why, but her words really hit home with me. I just discovered her blog and am rapidly becoming a huge fan.

10. Describe the most annoying person you've ever seen in a checkout line.

     The manager with the "Lane Closed" sign, just as I'm about to swoop into a short line.

11. What blogging platform are you using and why did you choose it?

     I use Google's BlogSpot. Blogger? Sad, I don't even know its official name. I chose it because it was the first one I stumbled across. I stayed with it because it is very user-friendly and keeps good track of statistics.

(Whew! Longest blog post EVER!!!)
                         
Okay, here are my nominees (in no particular order):

1. Ava Also -- What's Behind the Eyes
2. Laura Packer -- True Stories, Honest Lies
3. A. Eye -- Shouldn't Life Be More Than This?
4. Underground -- Innerlight

You know what? These are all I read. Other than  Liv by Surprise, but she nominated me, so I can't return the favor. I feel lame, but at the same time, proud. I'm proud of the blogs I read, because they mean a lot to me and I find them interesting and insightful. Funny and sad. I'm proud that I found these awesome blogs and really proud that I get to share them.
 
Okay, so here are my 11 questions for my four nominees:

1. If you could only read one book for the rest of your life (and would have to start reading it all over again once you finished it), what book would you choose?
2. Nacho Cheese or Cool Ranch?
3. Is there a particular time when a stranger did something really nice for you?
4. Are you glad you were born?
5. Disregarding reality, pretend all planets are inhabitable, but still have their main characteristics, such as temperature and terrain. Which planet would you live on and why?
6. If you could make a new law for all of the United States, what would it be?
7. On that note, who do you think would make a good president? (Living only)
8. Describe your style in three words.
9. Is writing an outlet, something fun to do, a way to reach people, or what? Why do you write?
10. What is your most guilty pleasure?
11. How much wood SHOULD a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? How much is too much?

                                

Okay, gang. That's it for me. I'm so grateful and proud. Humbled and inspired. "Q" is rumbling in my head right now. What will my brain spit out? Who knows. But it will be soon. Thanks for reading, guys. My heart is with you all. And MAJOR thank you to Liv for the nomination. It means SO much to me.