I’m a superstitious person. I’m generally fearful and negative at the core. Therefore, it’s probably a self-fulfilling prophecy kind of thing, or a matter of perspective. I HATE it when people insist on being positive in the face of obvious negativity. Not everything is positive. If you’re a glass-half-empty person, you just are. What you do with that is something different. Something you can change. And I agree, it’s better to be positive when navigating life. I’ve tried very hard to turn that around, but Friday the 13th always gives me pause.
Hopefully I will have a nice day and I will be proven wrong. I have nice things planned, so…
Let’s see what happens!
Moving timidly on…
“That’ll be the new agreement paperwork. I realize you probably won’t be there to sign, but if you can let me know if there’s a pickup slip or something that would be helpful.”
“Yes, I suppose it would be helpful, but I’m not in the business of being helpful to you anymore.”
Me, the ex-wife
Will this be good for my soul, or damaging? Maybe not today, but someday, when this blog gets read by people I talk about. I’m trying so hard to not be bad, that when I confessed to myself that I am, it was such a relief, and a way to cope at the moment.
You may have read here, or known, that my X is going to my daughter’s college parents’ weekend and toting his girlfriend along, despite my daughter’s request that he not.
Then she called me and whined a little about it, and when I asked how this is happening if she said no, she said she wouldn’t discuss it with me anymore.
So, I’ve been desperately trying to mind my own business, concentrate on the good things in my life, let go of trying to control my daughter’s relationship with her father, but, that is only masking the filthy darkness that flowed down the shower drain in tears this morning (spoiler alert – stop reading if you want to maintain a good image of me, if you have one):
- I hope the reservation I made to go to parents’ weekend, that I gave to X because he hadn’t made one, and my daughter didn’t want to deal with us both being there, is denied them because it was paid for with my credit card;
- I hope they can’t find any accommodations (which I hear is typical in that small town and area) and causes strife between X and his 38-year-old girlfriend with three of her own kids she left behind to visit my kid;
- I hope my daughter freaks out. I can’t help it; I do. She hasn’t talked to my X’s girlfriend since she babysat her kids approximately eight years ago, when her dad was married to me. That has to be awkward, but hey, they’re all asking for it;
- I hope they don’t do all the things they have planned to do because my daughter pulls out of them. They’re all things her dad wants to do anyway that she does not;
- I hope someone calls the girlfriend Mrs. [my last name]. After all, they expect my daughter’s parents;
- I hope my X tries to call me for the first time in over a month for me to give permission for he and his mistress to use the room I booked and paid for and I ignore the call;
- I hope he has to resort to asking our daughter to call me, so that maybe I’ll pick up, and I won’t answer her call either;
- I hope she calls all upset about her choice to appease her dad, and how awful it is, and I don’t answer;
- I hope she resorts to calling her big brother and then he tries to call me and can’t reach me;
- I hope X wishes he hadn’t treated me badly;
- I hope he wishes he had waited to leave until after our daughter graduated from high school, was the star of award ceremonies, went to prom — all the milestones, and moved right after to live in another town before college;
- I hope she understands that a mistress is no substitute for her mother;
- I hope they all cry like I did this morning in the shower.
It’s been nice knowing ya…
- Today might be really shitty at work. I have learned from the past, however, that sometimes when I obsess and lose sleep anticipating a stressful day at work, it turns out fine. Then there are the days that smack you on the butt and chuckle evilly because they know they caught you off guard. No wonder my daughter has anxiety issues.
Note to self:
- Don’t dwell on the past
- Don’t borrow trouble from the future
2. This weekend is a meet the co-workers barbecue at H’s house. It’s not that I’m not good at these things. It’s that I’m expert at putting forth a plastic, alcohol-wiped version of myself. Why is it so hard to be “real?” What am I afraid of? Offending someone. Drinking too much. Embarrassing my new SO.
I’ll let you know how these things unfold. I hope I can keep the made-up evil future at bay, and that I can report that I was “myself,” offensive, drunk, embarrassing, or surprisingly not labeled at all. Maybe I can be myself in a situation that hasn’t happened yet, and needs no rumination about it. Maybe it will be…FUN? SUCCESSFUL?
Let’s talk about rumination…
JK…my work day awaits. Good luck to you guys. Let’s go do this!
I HATE seeing my ex’s name come up on my phone. ESPECIALLY at work when I’m trying hard to be productive. (Unlike now, when I’m writing tomorrow’s blog at work.) He’s given up on trying to be cordial to me by letting me know when he’s shifting money around, etc., but sometimes our daughter disseminates important news by texting both of us at the same time.
I get it. I just don’t like it.
I changed his name on my phone at first to “Mr. Duplicity.” A little shout out to Alanis Morissette. It gave me some wicked pleasure, but it still wasn’t satisfyingly right, and it was disruptive in a different way.
I tried “Cheater.” “Asshole.” The usual. Does anyone else do this?
Got a text back from him to my daughter and me for the first time in over a month.
Yes, I affirmed, “-” was the perfect symbol for him. There’s no personality to it. There’s no emotion associated with it. I don’t “know” it. In fact, it reminds me of the dash on gravestones between the person’s birth and death. His name is on the gravestone and the dash there, like the spouse who was unlucky enough to die last. I’m just waiting to chisel in that end date.
I would feel guilty about it, but that’s not something I do much anymore.
My daughter broke up with her boyfriend. She is off to college in a few weeks and he is going to be a senior in high school. She wrestled with this decision. She was away from home this summer and started hanging out with a young man where she was. She was upset about all the things she was giving up with her boyfriend of over a year, but had feelings for someone else and knew it was probable that the relationship wouldn’t make it through her going to college. I can’t help but compare this behavior to her dad’s. Sure, she’s younger. She doesn’t have children and decades she’s leaving, but her dad started his pattern of behavior before I came along also, wife #2.
I hate him. I love her. I see her point of view more kindly. But it scares me.
She found out one of her friends from high school has been romancing her ex – a young woman also going to college in a matter of weeks. That’s some cold shit on both of their parts. “Don’t tell her parents,” my daughter said, “And don’t write anything on her Facebook page.” (She’s familiar with my lioness impulses to crush her enemies).
We do this to each other. Sometimes you’re the asshole. Sometimes you’re the victim. Sometimes you’re the opportunist.
Maybe by seeing her role more favorably I can forgive her dad…
Nah. Not yet anyway.
Yesterday I woke up around 4:30, not unusual, and by 10:30 am I was making this for myself. This is the product of living alone. I would not have done it in front of my x, or children, for fear of ridicule or the tediousness of explaining myself. I was always explaining myself. They’re all so different from me.
I remember once reading that a widow still set the table and used her best dishes to dine at home. She cleaned her house on the same schedule and dressed up to go out. That sounded right to me.
I blare the TV pretty much the whole time I’m home. It talks all night. Even when I read I have the TV on. I keep a light on all night. I never used to do that. Will I “go back” to my previous “normal” behaviors? Is this a phase? Because now I drink wine before 10:30 am, and not at brunch, where we’ve all decided that’s ok. This is the first time I’ve done that, so far, post-nuclear family.
I am neither the widow nor the morning wine-drinking insomniac. Or, I am both. Sometimes routine and boundaries feel good. Almost always, actually. But sometimes homemade pizza and wine six hours after you wake up feels just right. And then a nap. I washed some clothes and dishes too.