Monthly Archives: January 2013

Breaking Up: It Really IS Hard to do.

That song, old as it may be, knows of what it speaks. I know- you would think a woman rapidly approaching an age so advanced she no longer feels great about blurting it out (even though I still look GOOD, thank you) would already be aware of this, right? Well, as I may have mentioned here, or maybe in my REAL blog (just kidding, this one is real, too), I am a super late bloomer. I was too busy doing drugs in bathroom stalls all across the west coast to form many mature, enduring bonds. So this is pretty much the first time I have gone this far into something with another, fully invested, human being. And it has utterly failed. Which really sucks.

Argh! I am writing this to cheer myself up and be funny, and instead those last few sentences sent me running for another roll of toilet paper to sop up my face with. As you can tell, I am a little emotional. I guess that is normal, but what do I know? I know I could have probably been over it and on with my life if I had just pulled the plug way back when I first realized we weren’t going to make it. Shit, I could have been happily married after an average length engagement by now, if I would have done that. That’s okay, though. Some of the things I would have missed out on if I had were totally worth all the rest of this suckage.

Some of the things going through my head that I catch myself thinking are pretty understandable- things like: “What if this is actually the best you can do? What if this is really a great relationship and you are just a total fucking bitch and you are throwing it all away?” or “What if you just can’t be happy, period?” Luckily, though, I realize that these are trick questions posed to me by my own frightened heart. This is not the best I can do, it is not a great relationship, I AM a total fucking bitch, because I am miserable, and anything that makes you feel that way is okay to throw away. I know I am easily capable of happiness, because even in the midst of all this heartache, I have moments of it every day. The less weighted down I am by all of this turmoil, the easier it will be for me to laugh again.

Some other things I wonder about are, does it take this long for other people to split up? I mean, we have basically been in the process of parting, seriously, for the better part of the past year. Before that, even, I knew we were headed that way. I guess I just always thought that people had enough, broke up, divided up their stuff, and parted ways. Now that I am going through it, I realize it takes a long time to really throw the towel in. It has to hurt pretty bad, for pretty long, to finally admit you have lost. Even then, when you pretty much know that sticking around is probably going to destroy you, it is still hard and sad to say goodbye. I don’t know why I need to know if that is normal or not- all I need to know is that it is what is happening in my life, and I am dealing with it the best I can.

Some of the more amusing thoughts I have noted scampering through my twisted little mind are these:

“I guess this means I am going to have to start being fussy about how I look all the time, now.”

“What if he finds someone faster than me? And what if she is prettier than me? And younger? (etc., etc.)” Then I realize what I am thinking, and that I don’t want to even date anyone for a good, long time…and also, how much of a bummer it will be for the next girl, when she realizes what she is dealing with. Maybe she’ll get lucky, and be too dumb to see through the nonsense. Maybe, just maybe, he won’t fool around on her. Maybe I should just stay out of his imaginary future relationships, though.

My very favorite candid thought so far, though, has got to have been this: “What if the next guy I’m with has a smaller penis?” I seriously contemplated this, and came to the conclusion that…well, that would really suck. I don’t know what else I can say about that. Except, REALLY? THAT is what you are worrying about?

Well…it’s one of the things. But at least it was a funny thing. Anyway, I am doing the best I can, and sometimes I feel more like posting than other times. I don’t want to bring the whole blogosphere down with my sad little life, so lots of times, I write in my handy-dandy notebook (thanks, Blue’s Clues, for that) instead. But I am always writing.

When I’m not, you know… thinking about the next ( hopefully enormous), penis I might encounter. Have a fabulous day!

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I Suck at Love

bad at this

I have a confession to make (although if you know me, you may have figured this out before I did)- I totally suck at love. I’ve always pretty much stayed focused on the relationship disasters I am currently in, but this morning, as I was heating up my coffee, my entire love life suddenly flashed before my eyes, and I realized…man, I am just BAD at this.

I’m not saying everything that has gone wrong in every relationship has been my fault. Far from. But, my GOD, my picker is broken! You could line up a group of five equally handsome, charming men, four of whom were successful, emotionally healthy, kind, grown ups, and one (who looked no different than the rest, mind you) who was a womanizing parolee with a gambling problem. Now guess which one I would gravitate towards? Yes. Yes, it’s true.

So, as I was having this little realization in front of the microwave, I defensively thought “Wait, that’s not true! I had a very successful & happy relationship with Paul…” To which my next, ruthless and unkind thought was, “Uh, yeah, that would be true…if you hadn’t broken up. Duh” Oh, yeah. There is that. Shit.

Sigh. I don’t know what it is about me- if something made me this way, or if I am just genetically predisposed towards dysfunction, but from the very beginning, I have been drawn like a magnet to the wrong dudes. Ones I have had to convince I am wonderful, and they should like me. Ones who have liked me…almost as much as they liked their girlfriends. Addicts, liars, cheaters, con-men, criminals. Emotionally stunted. Socially challenged. Mean, selfish, unreliable, just bad. I have run the gamut, experienced the full spectrum of “bad”, and I can’t help but wonder…what the hell does that say about me?

I mean, clearly, birds of a feather, and all that…but really? I mean, yes, I have picked up some not-so-winning quirks along the way. I am, perhaps, a bit more observant (suspicious) than your average bear. I know it’s hard to believe this, considering the long and exhausting life of my current so-called relationship, but I have a history of being alone, or involving myself in cheap imitations of relationships that, while exciting, ultimately went nowhere. Actually, now that I think about it, almost all of my involvements with men have been off balance, with one of us 90% involved, the other 10. It varied, who was more invested, him or I, but I’ll tell you this- when I was the ten percent, things were short lived.

Maybe that’s why I’ve stayed as long as I have, this time around. This may be the first time both people involved have been equally willing to salvage things…of course, we take turns. Hardly ever have we BOTH wanted to save what we have at the same time. And then there is the whole “salvage” thing…I mean, doesn’t that imply that whatever it is, it is already broken, needing work, pretty much on its way to the dump? So, how many times do you pull something out of the dumpster thinking you can fix it before you finally think “This thing is a piece of crap- who MADE this? Forget it, I’m done with this thing…I’ll pick up another one later.” ?

I think I need to stop, and think about this a little. I feel like I am becoming less and less able to see how unhealthy things are, and picking up more damage along the way. I think I am losing faith that “normal”, happy partnerships exist anywhere. I see that there are a lot of things I should probably look at in myself before I even worry about being with another human being, but I don’t even know what to look for. Or if I want to ever expend the energy or take the risk of trusting someone new, down the road.  It’s exhausting, and I don’t trust my own judgement anymore.

I am GREAT at loving my children. I love my friends, my family, my life, really thoroughly, and well. I have even loved the men in my life fiercely, in a way they were totally undeserving of. But now, this is something else, something that does not make me think better of myself at all.  I have sucked at being in this relationship, and I suck, totally, at getting out of it.

I am considering faking my own death…well, I was, but now that I’ve told you, I guess that is out. Oh well. I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s ever  felt this way. I’m off to spend some time with someone who is way better at love than I am…my two year old! Have a fabulous day.

No Promises

uncertainty

“There are no guarantees in life” – who hasn’t heard that phrase, many times, or even said it yourself? It’s pretty much the go-to saying for situations where something tragic or shitty has happened, and there is no other explanation but that. I mean, I’m sure there are others- probably super religious people bring God into it (I have been guilty of this a time or two, not because I am super religious, but because I am a big, faithful believer in God’s perfect plan for us all, no matter how awful things may seem), which probably isn’t very comforting for anyone besides the person saying it. When life deals us, or maybe worse, someone we love, a crippling blow-there is often a desperate feeling of not knowing what to say, or what to do, or how to help, if help is possible. That’s the thing, though- we feel this way because sometimes, there really is nothing. Nothing you can say, do, help, that will be of any use at all. That’s a hard one for us humans.

There is something to that phrase, though- “There are no guarantees in life”. I know most of us don’t dwell on it, but it’s true. Life holds much promise, but makes no promises to anyone. None at all. Sure, there are all kinds of inferred promises we live under the impression of, but they aren’t real. They make us feel safer without actually being of any use at all- sort of like the “Oh Shit!” handle on the passenger side of your car. We make a lot of assumptions from the very start about our lives, and everyone around us encourages this, and does it themselves. We assume we will grow up. We assume we will be teenagers, move out someday, get married and have kids, perhaps. We assume that we will grow old, and that someday, far, far, down the road, we will die. For lots of us, that’s the way it goes. For others, it is not.

By the time I was twenty-two, three kids I personally knew, had died. Being young at that time, those lives lost made an impression on me, but not the way they would have now, if that makes sense. At the age I am now, these deaths would be kids my daughter knows, and it would devastate me.  Even as I write a blog about there being no promises in life, I want to say “Parents aren’t supposed to outlive their children!” Knowing as I do that parents outlive their babies every day, it still seems like a rip off of the worst kind. It seems like the most unjust thing, ever. But it’s a chance we take, knowing, God forbid, things happen. We take what life gives us and hope for the best.

It’s sort of a miracle that we can even function in the face of all of this uncertainty, don’ t you think? That we aren’t terrified to go to sleep, let the people we love out of our sight, bother having children at all, knowing what we know…I mean, doesn’t it make you think we must be the most optimistic species out there, that we just go on about our business, cheerful, hopeful, unafraid- when any second could be lights out? Obviously, we don’t go around thinking that way (I don’t- I sure hope you don’t either!) or we’d go nuts, but the fact that we can just tuck it away, in the back of our minds, and not let it bother us much…that is amazing! I have certainly had moments, and even short phases in my life, where I was struck to the core by existential dread. I think we all go through it, here and there. It is sure as hell no fun in that bleak head space, when you aren’t sure what you are, can’t vouch for what you’re actually made of, and all your faith in what happens after we die has disappeared, leaving you frozen with fear of the unknown. “I want out!” I remember thinking to myself, in the grips of one of these little bouts. “Out, where?” I recall thinking immediately after, “It’s too late- the minute you are born, you are trapped on this ride, and the only thing worse than being trapped on is being let off.” Naturally, this thought did nothing for my panic, and I was forced to spend the rest of the night (isn’t it always late at night when this particular fear strikes?) practicing deep breathing into my pillow. With the light of day, the fear diminished, silly looking when I wasn’t so alone.

You may be wondering by now what the hell got into me, to make me write this. I’m sure it’s not one of my more hilarious reads. Well, it’s like this- as some of you guys know, I am a medical coder at a hospital. I won’t bore you with the full description of my job, but I do NOT do actual patient care. I work in the Health Information Management department, which you probably know as the medical records department. I spend all day, every day, reading charts for emergency room patients, then pulling from those charts the diagnoses so that the people in the billing department know what happened and how much to charge.  99% of the time, the charts I see are for people who come in, get some help, then go home. Anything more serious, and the patients are admitted, which means someone else codes their charts. So most of the time, it’s simple, average stuff.

But sometimes people die. When it’s old people, it’s sad, and I don’t feel great about it, but at least, usually, it was quick, and they had a long life. When it’s younger people, though, that is hard on me. Many times I have cried over a chart I was coding- not all of them deaths, either. There are terrible things that happen besides death-leukemia in a seven year old, metastatic cancer in a patient who thought they’d beat their disease. Burns on little babies…you name it. But the kids in their twenties who don’t make it, that kills me. The people my age who just drop dead- that scares the crap out of me. It’s not too uncommon either. Since I’ve worked in this field, I’ve had to see a lot of things I could have avoided, otherwise. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or not, to be so aware of our frailty.

Then yesterday, on Facebook, I see that my friends boyfriend has passed away. Like, out of the clear blue sky, gone. She is someone I have known a long time, but not well enough to know anything other than that he died, and that he was our age, and that I can do nothing but offer my condolences. Pray. Another dose of reality, like a palm to the face, urging me to snap out of it! This is it, man, THIS moment, right now. This is really all you’ve got, because the next one isn’t promised. Do whatever you can to make this one shine. There are no guarantees in life, you know.

Re-New Year

(***Note to reader: I was so lazy yesterday, I actually couldn’t even pull it together enough to publish this blog. So, pardon it’s delay***)

Last night was the first time I have actually stayed up until midnight in quite some time. I was not in a celebratory mood at all, however, and I refused to cheer up at all while all around me people cheered and blew things up and hollered. I sat in the dark, on my front step, with my little glass of pink champagne, and scowled at all the hubbub. I was in no mood to be happy. I was in the grips of some female hormone fluctuations that you would not have been wise to have brought up at the time…unless, of course, you were in the mood to have your head bitten clean off.

Because I did make it to the wee hours- for me this means like, one, one-thirty, tops- I have been in a major funk all day long. To be honest with you, I am still in my pajamas right now, in my bed, where I have spent the better part of the day. I have sent the baby off with her father to the dump (when you are little, stuff like that is still fun), my older one is at her second home, the mall, with her boyfriend, and I…I have been in bed watching back to back episodes of “Storage Wars” for a little longer than I really want to admit. I have no intention of doing anything of value at all today. I did make an exhausting trip to Carl’s Jr., where I spent almost thirty bucks on junk food- which I thoroughly enjoyed, by the way.

In all honesty, though, this is not my idea of how I would like to start off a fresh new year…I really don’t even feel I have nailed down exactly what kind of year I do want to have. I have no good, solid list of resolutions, and I am certainly in no state of mind to contemplate such things now. Not when I am waiting for this commercial to end so I can find out what the hell was in that storage locker some guy bought for way too much money. Yeah, I am in sloth mode, for sure.

So, I have decided to have a Re-New Year, at a date to be determined when I have two spare brain cells to rub together. Today is not that day, my friend. Have a good day, whether it is your New Year or not. I’ll have to go now. My show is back on!
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