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I am having a really hard time this week.  I can not seem to pull it together to stop feeling self pitying and miserable.

It’s not just feeling down or blue.  I feel incredibly lonely, isolated and abandoned.  I know a lot of it comes from Hawthorn’s recent actions.  And the fact that he’s just a selfish asshole.  I so want to be over him already, over anything to do with him.  I wish my needing to have a job didn’t require me to share physical space with him every day.

I need to restructure my entire social life.  How I’m spending my time, who I’m spending it with, what I’m doing.  But I feel exhausted and overwhelmed all the time as it is, so I’m unsure about how to set this in motion.

I had dinner with Oak last night, which was simultaneously mildly pleasant and utterly, unbelievably awful.  In the context of discussing his current relationship and my current status of not dating out of apathy, he essentially told me that there’s ten pretty, smart girls just like me for every unmarried, undamaged, not alcoholic single guy my age (and that that ratio was even less in my favor in the city in which I live).  So I shouldn’t even bother dating and that I better figure out what I’m doing for work or decide that I like where I am because at my age my chances of meeting anyone are slim and as a woman probably whatever career I have now I’ll still be doing when I’m 60.  So I better pick something and settle into it, since I’m sure not to have anything else in my life until I die.   And on any regular day I’d just think he was a jerk that is wrong, but since I was already feeling defeated the entire evening was a huge blow to my sense of self worth.

I am at the beginning of two very long work days right now and won’t have any down time or even enough sleep to deal with any of this.  I’d like to meditate, I’d like to read.  I’d like to do some writing exercises or call a friend, but alas, it seems I will be working or sleeping from now until late, late Friday without reprieve.

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It would be really, totally super great if the doctor would just call me and give me the all clear, no cancer, you’re good to go call.  I’m trying really hard not to obsess about it, to over think or anything until I know something, but the longer I wait the harder it is to convince myself it’s fine.

And I do think I’m on an emotional upswing, but it remains hard to rise up while so many apparent road blocks remain.

Whew, mama, I am tired.  I am also tired of saying I’m tired and really noticing how much I say it.  Seriously, how can something not be wrong with me? It can’t be normal to feel like this all the time.

I also would like to complain. To everybody, I guess.  But I don’t because I don’t want your sympathy, or anyone’s sympathy.  I’m not even sure how to explain it or why.  But I am really, really tired of crying.  I just don’t want to do it. At all. And sympathy improperly given makes me cry.  It makes it harder for me to hold it together in the way I need too and, honestly, it makes me feel bad for making you feel bad or for making you worry.

Goals for this week:

  1. get rid of extra furniture and Goodwill pile
  2. make a nice dinner just for myself
  3. vacuum living room & mop kitchen
  4. manage domains for future web projects
  5. follow up with my doctor about my recent appointments
  6. finish digital filing project at work
  7. make reasonable budget for June

Some of these are carry over’s from the previous list that weren’t completed.  I’m good with that.  I’m trying for essentially a thing a day from these goals and if I achieve 75% I consider that a success.  I also consider planning this way a success as this is as lenient as I have ever been with myself

The answer to medical mystery #1 is a small ovarian cyst, hopefully on it’s way out already.  Call back in 60 days if it still hurts.  Hoping for as easy a resolution on medical mystery #2 on Tuesday.  Still I have opted out of the martial arts classes I was going to start today.  I definitely feel strained by this news and like I can’t afford one small extra thing, in case it needs to go to medical expenses.  While the ovarian cyst diagnosis is a relief to some extent (I didn’t want them to find nothing because I definitely have pain, but I didn’t want something huge and awful either) it can be a sign of an endocrine disorder which means, I have to deal with the skin cancer biopsy, the possible effects of that and keep much better track of all my bodily related health now, in addition to my mental health, so we can sort out if this is a one time thing or part of a larger problems.  Sounds exhausting.  I’m already exhausted.

I feel like I should make so big personal evaluation in light of of my birthday.  But honestly, I’m too tired to do it.  Or maybe I’ve just been doing it so much in the last 5 months that’s there’s not much evaluating left to do right now.  No, there’s surely always more evaluating to do, I am just too tired.

The above bit has been sitting in ‘draft’ format for 2 days while I try and think how to finish it.

I was running errands at lunch today and Alice Walker was on the radio talking about chicken farming of all things.  A woman called in just to tell Ms. Walker how much her life had been affected by Ms. Walker’s books. The host thanked her for her call and Ms. Walker said, “I can tell how beautiful you are just by your voice.” Just the way she said it filled me with so much grief and so much love that I had to pull over for a second to get control of myself.

I have had Shug Avery’s version of “Speak Lord (God is trying to tell you something)” from The Color Purple stuck in my head for about a week now.  God is trying to tell me something.  Alice Walker is trying to tell me something.  Everyone around me is trying to tell me something.  And it’s like I can almost hear the answer, a murmur, a susurration trying to get me to look inside and remember my own beauty.  But it’s like somehow my creativity got all locked down somewhere and with it my ability to see who I am and to see who I want to be (because it’s the always striving to be better that I think defines me more than the me in any instance).  There is actually stranger in the mirror some days, when I’m really looking and I don’t know how to find my own reflection anymore.

Annnnnnnnnnnnd, I am putting too much pressure on myself about it.  I mean, too much pressure to get better, to feel better, to act more like “me,” to heal faster.  Too much pressure on myself is big part what got me deep in this anxiety hole in the first place.  I’m struggling to come up goals for the next five years and I can’t even get it together to cook dinner for myself when no one comes over to share it with me.

So I’m going to start setting goals for myself for each week. And they will hopefully be achievable and I will not require more from myself than just doing my best to meet those stated goals.

Goals for this week:

  1. cut out the pieces for one sewing project
  2. mail package that have been in my car for more than a week
  3. finish one book
  4. make a nice dinner just for myself
  5. follow up with my doctor about my recent appointments
  6. buy a mop and clean my floors
  7. make identifiable progress on new work projects (at my actual paying job)

I think seven is good for now.  That’s essentially one a a day and none too taxing, I hope.

So I think I’ve been doing a fairly good job, overall, of maintaining my calm, breathing through stressing out and generally keeping it together the past few days.  However I made the mistake of watching Eat, Pray, Love and it nearly tipped me over  the edge into psychotic rage.  With the caveat that I’m sure the book is different/better than the movie (although I never plan to read it) this was such a heap of crap.  As far as I can tell the message of this movie is as follows: You are free to do whatever you want in your individual selfish quest for happiness no matter the consequences to anyone who loves you.  If/when you find happiness you must chuck it over immediately for a man, because as a woman you will not be truly satisfied until you have a man to take care of you.

Right, I get it that this story was made into a romantic comedy that perhaps the book wasn’t, and that this somewhat follows the horrible trope of so many mainstream romantic comedies, but wow, it was so fucked up.  The level of wealthy white privilege was more than even I, white and middle class, could relate too.  There was no conflict at all presented in her two initial relationships before she runs off to discover herself.  The whole thing came off like bored rich lady who doesn’t like the toys she’s presented with and ascribes some level of spiritual need to her own baby-like grabbing for things she wants.   Until finally a man strong enough to rule her shows up and tells her whats he wants, and when she resists another man tells her to make the right choice and choose the boyfriend over herself. Ugh ugh ugh.  (Don’t get me wrong, if Javier Bardem shows up and asks me to sail away with him and says he’ll support me forever, I’m going.  I’ll just write a post later about how I made the anti-feminist choice. Heh.)  Suffice to say, I assumed it would be a cheesy, forgettable film that didn’t align with my worldview and instead it enraged me.

This past week Hawthorn has had some pretty substantial real life drama with his ex-wife.  He’s talked to me about it a lot (and then apologized for that, causing me to yell at him because really, despite everything else, we aren’t friends unless we are talking to each other about the real stuff).  Now I have very mixed feelings about his ex-wife.  If she hadn’t divorced him, my life would probably have taken a very, very different course, both for good and bad.  I surely wouldn’t have him now as the friend he is and the friend he will become if she’d done differently.  And I can, rightly I think, attribute some of my suffering to the ripple caused by her actions, though I do own my own responses to that suffering.  Here’s the thing though, I can not see her as anything but insanely selfish and somewhat stupid.  She has put her ex-husband and son through the emotional ringer, she has financially completely destroyed all of them and she blithely seems to think everything is okay and will be okay, except when occasionally forced to face how fucked up everything is and how she is the ONLY one benefiting from her actions, and indeed isn’t even noticing how much her actions affect other people.

Much like that character in Eat, Pray, Love, she took a situation that was better than what 99% of the people in world have and decided to fuck over everyone around her in pursuit of her selfish, individual happiness.  Now I’m not saying we don’t all deserve to be happy, but I really believe that there has to be a point where we say, “this is satisfactory, I can work with this,” because the chances that we will end up eternally happy without anything bad entering our lives is much less than winning the jackpot in the lottery.  It goes back to that balance thing I’ve been talking about, just happy, just happy, just happy all the time isn’t balance, and seeking that, in my opinion, is just greedy.

I’ve been breathing deeply and trying to let go of how angry this all makes me.  To recognize that it is a lesson for me in what not to do.  I want to be calm and peaceful enough to sit and watch the cherry blossom petals fall and be blissful in that moment of how beautiful the world can be.  I want the frantic feelings to stay at bay long enough that I always notice the sunrise and what color the sky is.  But I want to live practically and in the world in such a way that I am careful and cautious of how my actions affect the world and the people around me.  I want people to perceive me as calm and kind, as open-hearted enough to be trusted with whatever they are feeling. I want to make sure that my actions are never so careless that they can be perceived as cruel, inconsiderate or negligent to the needs of both myself and the world around me.  I would like to make less demands on the world in general and hope the world has few demands of me in return.  When I choose solitude I want it to be recognized as part and parcel of who I am as person, and not a rejection of the world or the people I love.

I want to notice the ripples of every rock I drop in the pond.  I hope I will have thought of the effects of those ripples before I let the rock fall.

I was driving home from work a little bit ago (second shift at the bar) and thinking about how lax I’d been in posting here and how I should come home and write up my week (nothing special, or really out of the ordinary) and how I’m feeling (tired, just really, bone tired, worn down, wore out–in general not just tonight) and about good friends and how much better making time for them makes me feel.  But then somehow in the 8 minutes it takes me to get home I was so filled with rage and wanting punch Hawthorn’s smug fucking face in that I almost started crying in the car.  I pulled it together, got home, took off my make up and brushed my teeth and managed to calm down somewhat in that time.  I’m not sure if it’s PMS or entirely my residual anger at the whole stupid situation, but man am I mad at him this week.  I keep coming back to the fact that he’s never apologized to me.  He’s apologized for his fucked up personal shit bleeding into mine, he’s apologized for my suffering (“I’m sorry your feelings are hurt” which by my reckoning doesn’t count) but he’s never said, “I am so very sorry for what I did.  I am so very sorry for hurting you.” And while I’m sure I cold talk to him about it, I just don’t think it’ll have any meaning to me at all if I have to ask for that apology.  It doesn’t help that this week he’s been dumb boy bullshit inconsiderate, and done some dumb work stuff that makes my life a little harder (and was really just an extension of dumb boy inconsideration).

Tomorrow morning I’m going to get my haircut.  I decided it was better way to spend my money than going to the flea market even if I still do need furniture.  Then I’m going to spend the day doing chores at home and puttering and putting things away until I have to go do another shift at the bar, which will hopefully be busy, distracting and full of cute boys who want to flirt with me.  And maybe when I wake up Sunday, I’ll feel rested and content and happy at home, not full of anger that borders on violence.

So yesterday, after my whining here, Hawthorn asked if I was mad at him.  I told him, quite clearly that I hated being asked multiple time for anything, that his refusal of initial ‘no’ in any circumstance was invalidating of my choices and that he’d already taken enough of my choices away by breaking up with me.  I told him that I reserved the right to be mad at him whenever I wanted over anything I wanted because I was still hurt and within the bounds of responding however I felt I wanted too.  I told him that he needed to take me less for granted, remember that I wasn’t his girlfriend and acknowledge how good and generous I’d been through the months following our break up.

He apologized, but I’m not sure how much of it was him understanding why I was mad and how much of it was the “I’m sorry you’re mad at me” apology which I loathe, as it leaves me feeling less understood and in a position where the offender is sure to re-commit the crime.  Still After spending too much of the day trying not to cry at my desk, I’d softened up ad let go of most of it by the evening.  Which I spent assembling furniture, cooking, cleaning, watching TV and writing letters.  A nice calm evening, which would only have been better if I’d figured out to turn on the A/C before it got swelteringly hot in my house.

I’m very tired of the rollercoaster of emotions in regards to Hawthorn.  I get it, it’s actually reasonable, it will surely be tempered and toned down with time.  But I am just so over it.  I would actually like to just move on, though I recognize that I can’t quite yet.  I think I’ve forgiven myself for the choices I made, I think I’ve accepted the consequences of both our choices, but I haven’t forgiven him yet and I’m pretty sure this isn’t over until I do.  I don’t think that’s a release I’m going to get any time soon.  I think I need to really feel he’s accepted responsibility for his actions in regards to me, that he’s genuinely sorry, that really understands the effect it had on me and why his timing was so selfish.  But I don’t feel ready to sit down and specifically have that conversation with him, I don’t know when I will, even if I know I won’t be satisfied until I do.

Probably part of the answer here is to start filling the spaces in my free time and in my head with other people, with other activities.  Still I’m a little stuck in sort of negative cycle in that I want more time to myself, I feel like I still need the relaxing down time/alone time, before I set out to be crazy social again.  And yet taking that time leaves me with little to think about but past events and all the things I’m trying to move on from.  As with every part of this, it comes back to balance, an even amount of down time and new experiences.  Honestly, everything would be easier if I could back to being my usual, patient self.  I feel like I’m too anxious and eager for change that only comes with time and I can’t let go enough to let it come when it will like the first flowers of spring.

 

What I did today, two versions.

Version 1:

I woke up too early for a weekend, but couldn’t sleep.  Cleaned, did laundry, ran all my errands, watched a movie, did more decorating and enjoyed my house, went for a walk with a friend, drank beers on a patio in the breeze on a warm day.  Walked home and made a good dinner.

Version 2:

Didn’t sleep enough, did too much work, watched a sad, too-close-to-home movie, got overheated, spent an hour drinking beer and a second hour learning all about Oak’s new girlfriend and convincing him that I was very happy for him.  Got rejected for the second time in 24 hours (I’m persistent) by the cute guitar playing boy. Made and ate a lonely dinner that was too nice for one person.

I had a mostly good weekend, with some ups and downs.  Most of the downs involved leaving my house a dealing with people. On Sunday I cancelled plans to walk with Hawthorn in the park in favor of day long isolation.  It helped, I guess.   Although today I don’t think it was necessarily alone time I needed but non-Hawthorn time. And honestly I don’t know what to do about that.  I have to deal with him.  I work with him and there’s really no avoiding him in that situation.  I’d rather work him and be friendly, than simply be professional. And I actually do like his company some times.  I like him as a person.  I just feel like he’s pushing my boundaries in a not pleasant and perhaps wholly unintentional way almost all the time and I do not know how to make him stop. Whatever it is about him that’s so irritating that it’s rubbing me raw isn’t going to go away.  I can’t not work with hm. I essentially can’t not socialize with him.  Even if I stopped doing that, I’d still have to see him at both my jobs and around the neighborhood, so it’s preferable to keep it amicable.  I am completely open an honest with him to the point of being brutal and still he does such asinine annoying little things, that I guess are nothing, but taken all together make me crazy.

I’m just continually left with this sense that he is not listening to me, nor interested in what I really need unless it matches with what he wants.  This was true throughout our relationship too.  It’s extra upsetting because I don’t think he’s doing it on purpose and I can’t tell if it’s forgetfulness, utter selfishness and self involvement, stupidity, complete lack of concern for how I feel or some combination of all of those things.

For instance, I say I need alone time and that catch up with him the following day.  The response to this should not be three texts asking what I’m doing over several hours followed by an invitation to eat much later in the day.  Or if he invites me to an event and I decline, it should be left at that, not followed up with two subsequent offers just in case I’ve changed my mind.  And I know in the instance of the last example, he thinks he’s being nice, he’s being good generously offering more chances, but really it just frustrates and angers me.  In the case of the first example, he simply forgot that I’d asked for alone time earlier.  When I have to decline on offer of a bagel FOUR TIMES in single morning before pointing out that I’ve already reminded him twice this week that I don’t eat wheat and don’t want the motherfucking bagel, thank you very much.

I guess part of the problem is that about 50% of the really annoying stuff he does is actually him trying to be nice, which leaves me feeling really mean and petty when I get frustrated over it.  And the rest of it is so careless that I feel insulted.  And trust me, it’s not like I’m bottling this up.  I speak freely about it with him, both when I’m annoyed with him and when I’m clam and just trying to set boundaries.  I recognize that the answer here is to simply take a break from him, but as I mentioned that’s pretty much impossible.

The other part of the problem is the more obvious: he broke up with me at a really vulnerable time in my life.  He justified by saying it would surely become clear later that  it will be best for both of us.  Which is all well and good, except that I’m still well inside the very reasonable window of my feelings being very, very hurt over the whole situation. No matter how clear it is that we would never have worked out doesn’t stop my feelings from being hurt.

I don’t really even know what I’m trying to say here.  Here’s what I know:  I worked just fine with Hawthorn all day, with only the minor (very, very minor) irritation of being invited to lunch at some place I can’t eat, but I was genial and pleasant about it.  Then he did something slightly more annoying and work related (with started with him texting me to tell me to call him, AUGH, just call me yourself in the first place!) and I did the work thing and finished my day.  I got in my car and spent most of my drive thinking about funny things Cedar has said in today’s email and smiling to myself.  And then I remembered that I’m going out with Hawthorn tonight (it’s a ticketed event, it’s something I really want to see, and I backed out of a ticketed event last week, so there’s very little wiggle room here for “I don’t think I’m going to go,”) and suddenly my bad, bad mood was back.  So I thought I’d come home and try and write it out before we went out tonight.  But no, I feel just as frustrated, I feel like I can’t even adequately express, describe or pin down the specifics of my irritations.  I feel annoyed with myself and with him.  And maybe I can just chalk it up to the still raw wound of the break up, or simply his seeming insensitivity in the face of that. But if you read a news of the weird article in the near future about a woman bludgeoning her coworker with a bagel while screaming, “I don’t want anything from Panera,” over and over, even if names aren’t included, you can probably guess who it will be about.

So I left work early yesterday and went home and straight to bed.  I did get up at some point to eat and read a bit and wash my hair.  Total though, I slept for about 12 of the last 18 hours.  I definitely feel better.  I could use a couple more days of forced rest and non-interaction with people, but living requires work so I guess I’ll find that stuff where I can over the next few days.

I have to go for an annual exam next week, so I guess I’ll talk to my doctor again about medication options.  Honestly, though I’m not that hopeful about it.  I recognize that my attitude about the whole things shades my experience and it probably won’t be helpful if I’m not open to it.  But at the same time I think I have the tolerance left for one, just one, more round of ‘let’s throw this drug at your wall at see if it sticks.” After that, I’m done and will only try other methods.  I have been feeling so crappy the last few days that I’m will to give it one more shot.  But again it’s hard to gauge how much of my mood is affected by the seemingly endless rain and grey skies here, by my period, by my insomnia and exhaustion (which I just don’t think going to be cured by drugs, maybe therapy and exercise, but drugs seem unlikely).

After work I’m going to pick up my newly framed prints, check on a chair possibility at a nearby furniture store and then go home and lock myself in for quiet couch time.  I have to work at both jobs tomorrow and Friday and I recognize that I better get my much needed peace and quiet when I can.  One of the traits I’ve always recognized in myself, no matter how good or bad I’m feeling, is that I need equal amounts of time alone and with people.  Or I need those to be directly proportional.  One of the things I need to work on is being better about making sure I’m setting the time for myself.  This was easy when worked alone at home, but being in an office is more problematic as I need more space of my my own in the evenings, but I also feel more like I want to get out and do things and not miss out on fun I could be having.  Which of course doesn’t end up being fun when I’m exhausted and emotionally over extended.

It really feels weird how tired I am of spending money too.  I bought 4 new pairs of pants (to replace the 4 pairs of work pants I’ve been wearing for a year) and new (work) shoes and a new spring trench (bright, ridiculous and floral).  Usually this is big exciting stuff for me.  I think the furniture and home shopping has taken the shine off everything.  Maybe this is a good thing, maybe I’ll simply be less of a consumer when all of this over.  I’ve been working to shrink my consumption footprint as it is.  Maybe now is the time.

Maybe the high point of the last few months has been the journey of self discovery.  Living alone I don’t need a microwave, I don’t want too many dishes or unnecessary things.  I can learn new ways of cooking and relaxing and being.  I do like this aspect of it.  On the other hand,the journey of self discovery is exhausting and the anxiety has already sapped so much out of me.  I feel like I need to find a way to hit the “pause” button for a while and just be.  Not be shopping.  Not be worrying.  Not be financial planning.  Not be suffering a broken heart.  Not be organizing.  Not be packing or unpacking.  Just be.  Just be me.  Surely I can delve deeper and discover more about myself if I can slow down and just be, right?

I woke up today thinking about chairs.  Partly because I have none.  Well I have one, but a cheap, well used rolling office chair doesn’t exactly make for good home comfort.  Ironically one of the first posts I made elsewhere after moving in with Hawthorn was about having a space with a chair to sit in that was all my own in a comfortable place.  I guess I’m still trying to get to that place.  Space at my new house is limited and it is my intention to buy three chairs (something like this, for use for sitting both at my desk and not at my desk, and two dining chairs for when I get a table) and a couch for maximum sitting comfort.

When I got divorced a decade-ish ago, we had a couple used couches and a love seat and matching chair from about the 1940s.  The love seat and chair set were given to us by a friend when that friend’s mother went into long term care and sold her house.  When we separated I took the chair and left the love seat.  It was a big over stuffed armchair in fuzzy deep green fabric (something like this but not leather). At some point my ex-mother-in-law decided she needed to complete the set for display while showing and selling the house my husband and I had lived in.  I refused to give up the chair.  I took nothing in my divorce but my own clothes and this chair.  It didn’t belong to her family (I left thousands of dollars worth of china and furniture that were given to me by my exhusband’s paternal grandmother–not as a wedding gift or anything, but given specifically to me, as a gift, before we got married–I left it because it belonged with his family, heirlooms as it were), it wasn’t worth much, had no sentimental value, she just wanted it because it matched.  I had many horrible, mean phone call fights after my divorce, mostly centering around that chair.  I refused to give it up unless it was replaced with a similar or better one.  No one had any more specific claim to this chair than I did!  This many years later and I actually have no idea what happened to that chair, but I have for years wished I still had a similar chair.

Now Hawthorn has a couple midcentury Danish modern chairs (something like this).  I am quite sure that he told me, when we started dating, that he bought these at an antique store immediately after his divorce and was waiting to have a house to put them in (they were in his office at work for a long time).  He has sat in one of these chairs exactly one time since I moved in with him (they are awkwardly placed in the far corners of the large living room of our old house).  When I was preparing to move I asked if I could borrow the chairs, just for two weeks or a month, until I got a couch and had else where to sit.  He agreed that would be fine.  Since then I have been treated to several discourses on how those chairs are the only thing he got in his divorce and how he gave up the chair he wanted and how important and sentimental those chairs are to him.  1. Our house was filled with pie-safes, wardrobes, an expensive sofa, several antique tables and a huge TV, all of which he had when he was married, all of which he took with him after his divorce.  2.  I’m not asking for them as a gift.  I am a careful, conscientious person who has just had her whole fucking life turned upside down by this guy and all I want is place to sit for a few weeks until I pick out and get a couch delivered.  I’m sorry I didn’t get right on the incredibly expensive couch thing, but I did have to outfit a whole entire household and pay extra rent and a deposit etc. (Yes, I recognize there are thrift stores, but I’m really allergic to animal hair and paranoid about bedbugs and I just want new upholstered furniture, damn it, everything wood can be bought used, but not if it has stuffing.)  Anyway, suffice to say, Hawthorn never said he wouldn’t lend me the chairs, yet the chairs are not at my house and he keeps offering to bring over some of the shitty dining chairs to sit on.  Man, I have a shitty chair, which for my present purposes is still preferable to your rickety dining chairs.

So, I woke up thinking about chairs.  My recent (pre-Hawthorn break up) desire for a good one, my need for one now, my exhusband’s mean-spirited chair fights and now Hawthorn’s chair dickery.  If the absence of desire is the end of suffering, let me tell you, I am suffering over chairs. Grrrr.

I have been thinking a lot lately about listening and paying attention.  This post (especially the comments) identified a lot of things I’ve felt about being a woman.  I think men often hear only what they think I am going to say (and this isn’t limited to men, I think my mother does this to me too).   With Hawthorn I have long felt like he was never listening to me.  Much of this, I know, is because he would ask me 3 or 4 times in an evening if I wanted to do something, as if he never listened to my answer before or he assumed I’d change my mind.  I’m not sure which but it was VERY frustrating.  Indeed it would have killed our relationship eventually, although hopefully in a less dramatic and shitty fashion than it did end. This post on communication with partners has had me thinking a lot too.  I often have no freaking clue what Hawthorn is talking about.  Like he’s using some shorthand that is all words and cues that I just don’t get (or he starts in the middle of a thought, I guess unaware that I can’t read his mind) and now that we’ve broken up and spend even less time together it seems to be getting worse and worse.  And then today Tiny Buddha told me that love means attention.  And let me tell you not being listened too and not understanding sure does feel like a lack of attention.

This is all to say, I guess, that I’ve long recognized the signs of why things would  never work out with Hawthorn in the long run. And perhaps most my hurt over all of this is his hideously terrible timing on the break up and his seeming disregard for me and what I am going through in relation to be rejected at just this time.  Also if he was really listening to or paying attention to me, he would know that lending my his damned chairs would go a long way toward repairing my anger about his assholishness.

Yes, I have stuff left to pack, like, oh, um, clothes and bathroom stuff and, you know, everything that didn’t already get done.  Yes, I’ve basically been working my ass off since I got home from my workday.  My car is fully loaded with most everything fragile that I don’t want in the truck.  I’ve been packing boxes and moving stuff around.  I’ve asked Hawthorn to do exactly one thing: hold a shelf while I unscrew it so it doesn’t fall on my head.  And yet, what else he is doing is following me around turning off lights I need on (since I’m not staying in one room and trying to carry things through the house), critiquing where I leave stuff (yes, I know the headboard is on the porch, yes I know it’s raining because the door is open and I am standing right here), and now as I’m filling the washing machine he says, “Oh, I was gonna take a shower in a bit.”  Well could you do it right now, please? Or wait an hour?  Because no, I’m not moving dirty clothes. No, no, no, no.  Boys do gross things like that, I do not.  Also, Hawthorn, no I am probably not going to hear a band with you tonight.  I don’t know if you’ve noticed but the house is filled with boxes because I’m moving out in the morning because you broke up with me.  I don’t need you to be helpful but if you could stop hindering and annoying, that’d be fucking great.

Update: Yes, he asked if I wanted to go out THREE times before he left.  When I quizzed him on what he was doing (the band he wanted to see started 20 minutes ago, wasn’t he going?) he asked if I was trying to get rid of him. Yes, I fucking am, omigod, I am going to do you bodily harm if you don’t start either helping or fucking leave.

Ugh. I feel wrecked and overwrought. I think I would feel better if I was taking the time to dilligently and thoughtfully write here, but it doesn’t seem to be in the cards right now. In moving week you prep for moving, plan for moving, freak about moving, relax and let it go, freak again, prep some more, do some more, blah blah blah. And I feel this way after having paid someone to come pack everything! (Seriously all I have left to deal with really is clothes, toiletries and a handful of kitchen things and framed pictures. Hooray!)

Therapy is weird right now. I feel like maybe my therapist isn’t convinced I need therapy because I seem to be doing okay, so I spent today trying to explain that I simply cannot do the deep emotional work I need to until I get moved and get through this part. I just can not rip open those wounds until I have a safe place to go lick them after. And then I tried to explain about how everything has been back to back to back to back to back for the last couple years and I need therapy but I need to just talk and be calm in a safe place too. I don’t know. It was good, I think, but weird.

Then I came home and was PISSED OFF at Hawthorn. I can’t say exactly (yet) but basically he told me something at work (last week) that was unprofessional for him to tell me, he shouldn’t have told me and I wish I didn’t know. It’s been seriously stressing me out. So after packing was done tonight I told him that he owed me and apology and that he’d seriously fucked up. He said he didn’t know what say except sorry and I said that was enough. We both went about our business and later he came back and told me that I was very right to demand that apology and I surely deserved it and he suspected there were a few more apologies he probably owed me. I said that for now understanding that apology was enough and we’d worry about the rest later. So that was good.

I have nothing in my head, it feels like that isn’t moving or decorating related. I’m tired and I’ve definitely been over taxing myself. Still taking the St. John’s Wort and I think I’m going to start adding the 5-HTP back in as that really was helping with sleep before all this medication hoopla.

Oak is moving back to town the day after I move into my new apartment. I don’t think I’ve at all processed what this means to me or what it will be like to have him here. I feel like I really need him as friend right now but I can easily cross a line with him where he thinks I’m asking for too much, or he misunderstands my intentions.  I suspect it’ll be wobbly for a while

I had a pretty good weekend, although it says something about my mental state that the high point was discovering that a mini/half-size pair of pants I made (an experimental design for baby pants but made very small) fit my teddy bear from childhood. Then I took a picture of my teddy bear wearing pants and sent it to my mother. Also the pants the bear used to wear fit my hippo so now everyone has pants. This development is way more interesting to me right now than my emotional problems.

Happy Valentine’s Day. Have a picture of a puppy.

I swear, I’m really not falling down on the job of my commitment to post every day. I’m going to keep up with it. Just, you know, moving, working extra hours, having two jobs, plus Surprise! houseguest (thanks, Hawthorn) and, um, well moving. Will try and keep up this week, and then settle into a better habit when I”m better settled.

For my own reference to talk about here, soonish: flowers and why; mindfulness and spirituality; ceremonies for yourself; frienemies (like the feline one); reconnecting; why it never would have worked anyway.

I have cramps so bad that I feel like I might die.  My period was 12 days late and it feels like 12 extra periods worth of cramps.  The lady at Target cheerfully told me to have a nice day.  I just looked at her balefully as I walked out clutching 3 boxes of tampons, a box of pads and bottle of ibuprofen. Gah.

So I signed a lease yesterday on my own small apartment.  Now I can redirect all the energy devoted to being anxious, depressed or otherwise upset toward freaking out over getting packed and getting moved.  To my own space, which I am very excited about.

Therapy yesterday started with cheerful glee over getting the apartment (I found out about ten minutes before therapy) and then we talked a lot about Hawthorn.  I mentioned a few days ago that I have gotten over any guilt I might have and am pleased that he seems to be owning the consequences of his actions.  He has been very supportive of my move and of finding this apartment even though it’s detrimental to his financial situation.  I was really prepared to stay in our house through April if that’s what it took to find a good place, but now, having found a place, I think I will heal much faster from this situation than I otherwise would.

Calantha came over for a celebratory glass of wine last night and a catch up evening of girl talk.  She said I seemed really balanced and reasonable about the whole Hawthorn situation.  And I guess I am.  Don’t mistake me, I am still mad as hell that it came to this point.  I am hurt and while I am functional there is certainly a lingering sense of rejection, of being abandoned, of even being discarded.  I think once I’m settled in my own space and don’t have to be confronted daily with his (very much) unintentional slights, then I can start to work on my other stuff and maybe even eventually repair my friendship with Hawthorn.

After I felt resolved with the Hawthorn situation in relation to therapy we talked for a while about what I want out of therapy and I totally broke down over my utter inability to ask for help when I need it most.  I guess next week we are going to delve deep into recreating the feeling black hideous dread that consumes me when I find myself in that situation. Sounds fun.  No really, I can’t wait at all.  But I need to get past the things that are blocking me from talking openly, from asking for help, from feeling comfortable in situations I should be fine in, so this is good.  This good. This is good.  Therapy is good.

Overall though, I do feel mucho better-o, despite cramps of doom.  No more SSRIs.  I feel more upbeat and like myself over all.  I’m trying to keep it slow and in relaxation/recovery mode as much as I can still.  I’m waiting a few days for the SSRIs to clear my system and then I’m switching to an herbal anti-stress remedy (no, not pot) and St. John’s Wort to help keep my mood stabilized over the next couple months.  I’m curious about how this will feel and work, but I am definitely feeling good about the prospects for it.  Panic attacks have certainly lessened, although aren’t gone and there is this weird looming sense of anxiety just out of sight when I turn my head.  But I feel like I’m a good way toward shaking off the black depression parts, and the bloody nightmare stories in my head.  I don’t know that necessarily feel more stable, but I feel more capable and the possibility of feeling normal does appear to be just over that hill, if still out of sight.

I am in a snit of self-righteous indignation this morning.  Also I’m tired and my head hurts.  These things are related.

I worked a long, long day yesterday.  My day job was full insane troll logic and epic jackassery on the part of a client.  Still I went home, took a power nap, dressed up all pretty and went to my evening job, where I maintained a genuinely cheerful mood and felt somewhat energized and almost relaxed.  I got off my shift early enough to go home, read VC Andrews (what, oh you read crap sometimes too) and get to bed at a reasonable hour. Get to bed at a reasonable hour, be sleepy and and fall asleep without Klonopin or other sleep aids (I usually take Benadryl).  For the second night in a row.  This is exciting!  Good news!  Wheee!

And then one of my jackass friends texted me in the middle of the night to make some bullshit inappropriate comment about Hawthorn.  Not only was I woken up, but I was fucking livid, to angry to go back to sleep easily.  Now I’m running on less than six hours sleep and my good mood of last night has been killed by feeling like my safe zone for talking about things has been violated. (Also don’t tell me to turn off my phone when I sleep.  I use it for my alarm and I never trust that to work when it’s off, plus it’s my only communication and emergencies where I’m needed can happen.  And I really don’t think it’s too much to ask people to be civil and polite and not be loud in the middle of the night.  I should not have to turn off my phone because people have no self editing.)

This morning I sent an email to the offending friend telling them to please respect my schedule and not call of text me at unreasonable hours in relation to my schedule. And then I told them that this and previous comments about my relationship with Hawthorn, though surely well intended, had hurt my feelings and insulted me.  And that as far as I was concerned if we were going to maintain our friendship that the topic of my relationship with Hawthorn and it’s course and ending were 100% off the table conversationally until I said otherwise.  I expressed that my emotional resources were low and I’d appreciate boundaries I set being recognized.

Here’s how I feel about this right now:  Was my anger over the text out of order and utterly disproportionate? Yes, but presumably because it was the proverbial straw of people saying dumb things.  I feel fine about the email and really somewhat proud of myself for having set boundaries with this person.  A large part of my problem is that I often won’t speak up for fearing upsetting other people (this is mostly with my mother but bleeds into all my relationships–like I never told Oak how much I needed him and if I had things might have much different, but I didn’t want him to feel bad). I guarantee you the email I sent this person made them feel bad, despite the fact that I was polite and, I feel, overly generous and as kind as I could be about it.

As I mentioned before my emotional reserves are at 0% and though I could regret it later, I am not above burning bridges over this shit.  I understand that I’m in a messed up mental and emotional place and probably shouldn’t be making too many big decisions, but if folks can’t recognize how much I mean business when I say, “don’t cross this line” then I don’t need them.  Not negotiable. If looked at from a certain angle about 90% of my problems come from letting people cross lines with me that should have been drawn long before.  I meditated on it for a while this morning and I think therapy is supposed to make me happier.  Make me understand my motivations better.  I don’t think it’s supposed to make me an open book and a cuddly puppy if I am not that person.  So even if it’s only because I was pushed to the edge, I think drawing this line is a very good thing for me.  Though somehow ironic, since my other problems do involve needing to be more open.  Then again, it is about being more able to speak my mind and speak about what I need. Yes, all in all a good thing.

However, the entire incident has left feeling much more tense and physically locked up than I’ve felt in a week or two.  Which means I have been feeling better.  Too bad I needed that confirmed by feeling worse again.  I have exceptionally long workdays today and tomorrow too.  Where is my handsome houseboy to come rub my shoulders? I swear, missing things like this is the worst part of breaking up.  Who will rub my feet now!?!?

Quarter dose of Lexapro starts tonight (I know I said that yesterday, but I was wrong, I had one half left, so this time quarter for reals, yo).  Hopefully the upswing in how I’m feeling continues.