The Last Aftershock to Record, I Hope

I had a little lesson in listening to my conscience.  No crickets with purchases from a haberdashery were involved.  And OMG – I am writing this post without a beer. 

I had a moment of the slippery slide of emotions that was so greased, I couldn’t keep ahold of it.  Granted, I held it long enough to edit the really unnecessary stuff out that were blatant indulgences from pent up years of feeling repressed, attacked and what would be the equivalent of an all night mindf*ck every night. 

On an unrelated note, and a brief one, why do I have do take the NPR media player out to dinner, desert and beg for it to play straight through while I use the internet simultaneously?  It’s like walking through a house of bubble wrap in brick shoes trying not to wake a baby.  *Conclusion of rant.

So I decided in this last very long round of Break-up Aftershocks to try try try and stick to the point, and at all costs, if I can’t keep myself from going off in a backward direction, to at least be respectful.

Not so much last night.  I suddenly found myself exhausted of all his special rules – when I first moved in, little by little I learned that if I acted certain ways or said certain things, I was going to trigger horrible fights.  Even trying to compliment him, I triggered fights.  (I still haven’t figured out how that works.)  I molded to what was needed to keep peace as much as possible (and it didn’t work many times but was good enough when it did).  It also meant biting my tongue, hiding my thoughts, not sharing who I really was in order to make the world that he seemed to want, available. He had a vision of how Things Should Be and I thought he was so smart and must be right.  When I caught on that maybe he wasn’t right per se, I found out that by challenging things, I would just make the household undulate in anger, resentment, blame and indignation.  Then there was me for a long time – confused.   

Flip never divulged his severe depression to me for over a year.  It wasn’t until I tried to leave him the first time that he fessed it up. The fact that he had been out of work for over a year, years earlier due to depression.  Maybe it would have helped to have known.  Instead he blamed me for everything and I had a hard time understanding his logic.  So much that I thought I was just aging faster all of a sudden.  My brain was in a fog.    

This all adds to a build-up.  All these things that have been put into my head – certain boxes – ok to do this, not ok to do this.  And then he does things that he would freak out if I had done.  Anyone can say, “Well, you don’t really know what he would do.”  Anyone in a long term relationship gets a little view into the patterns of their significant other.  Sometimes – rarely – they can be surprised by their partner’s reaction to things.  My guesstimate is that more often than not, you know exactly in what realm they will react.  Will they end blasted to Saturn from a freak out?  Or will they ground, take you into their arms and slather you in compassion?  I don’t know what that last one is.  That’s foreign to this relationship for me.  I had basically one person who this type of compassion came naturally to.  That was El. 

I’m not exactly sure whose emails he is reading but I certainly don’t think I am worthy of the comment telling me that I am psycho and “out there”  For such a smart guy, he never could understand points that I made during anything resembling a disagreement.  He rarely offers a reason as to why I deserve to live and breathe on the planet but is quick with the insults.  (See The List).  It’s only natural that I would ask him again - why are you hanging on to me, why do you want me – the Embodiment of Evil Who he says cuts him down constantly?  I’ve barely heard him say a bad word about his ex….he told me her Cosby Sweater “colorful” story but he told it in a gentle way, like he felt bad for her.  Through her serial cheating and drug addiction and child abandoning while on drug binges, at least he had compassion.  Always “Saint So and So is a good person” no matter what she did.  (I did resort to calling her Saint.  I did.  Can’t I be just a tiny bit bitter? Enough to be part of a cocktail?)  I am told how “bad” I am on so many levels. Even though financially I kept the household running for a couple of years and made sure he had health insurance for his many ailments and psychologist.  Even though I paid off his jeep so that he wouldn’t have a car payment (even though I still had one).  I’m still paying for the jeep.  I took the loan against my 401K and even though it’s been 2 years, it’ll be about 2 or 3 more.  I’ve been there for him through surgeries/procedures and to care for him afterwards.  I don’t know how to achieve his good graces at this point.  Flip hasn’t fessed up to any wrong doing or heart breaking at all. Instead I get the random email at night about how I’ve broken his heart.  Once again.  Geez hon, ever think there is a reason that I moved out twice and am so dissatisfied?  Ever think there is a reason that the cops had to be called in three of your relationships (ours thankfully did not have such drama grandeur). 

But this morning I have a Hate Hangover.  It feels like Restraint Failure to have gone outside my boundaries of what I would want to have actually said (as opposed to what I was really thinking) and diving right in to the emotional purge.  I admit, the plunge felt refreshing at the time.

So I decided to send a follow up email this morning to say that I apologize for the barbs but that the accusations are true for me.  I just could have stated it better the first time instead of the tar and feathering that I gave him last night.  I felt better apologizing for basically not speaking my feelings in a more respectful way.  Do you imagine that he returned my email with anything remotely warm, even 5 seconds on high in the microwave?  I believe I was called a horrendous, backstabbing blather-dee blah.  Something to that effect.  I fell asleep mid-insult. 

What exactly happened to cause all of this?  Oh so much over time I suppose.  I would have been hung by nosehairs and fishhooks if I had been conversing with my exes for one, but especially if I had said during the relationship that I outgrew that friendship, that I didn’t really need to be friends with that person anymore and then went further to run to them every time Flip and I separated, pouring my soul out to said ex.  How on earth this ex of his has such magical radar to suddenly call him whenever I’m out of the picture is unreal.  He was on the phone with me the other day and the other line rang.  He mind fumbled.  He said to me that he’d let it go to voicemail, then garbled what I had just said to him.  The conversation turned elsewhere in topic.  I drove it back because the red flag stabbing me in the gut was too sharp to ignore.  “Who was that?”  He paused and then said it was Saint, the ex.  He then went on to say that well he’d only spoken to her once – a couple of weeks ago.  So just once, right in all this time?  But that’s weird, she happened to call you in May as well.  That’s twice (that I know of).  Ok so minimizing the truth.  And attempting to let the call slide without saying anything.  Now in many other relationships, this sounds really like, so?  It probably would have here, had he “trained” me differently years ago.  But he trained me to cut off my male friends or deal with a lot of interrogation and unhappiness and withholding from affection.  No, he never Said to dump my friends.  Anyone who has been through the same thing will totally see how this works.  Then he mentioned that well, yeah, they call each other during hard times and so now, she has become Saint Shoulder.  Well that’s nice.  I’d love to see his reaction to the same situation if it were me.  Especially if the same ex kept recurring whenever we were apart.  And we’d just been nekked the night before. 

So things hurt. Or have been hurting or can hurt.  I can make decisions based on this.  I can go into that lull of rumination (oh wait, I did that here) and do the back and forth with him, fighting for my feelings to be validated, but they won’t be.  These feelings would have to go on a waiting list – there are still feelings from September of 2009 waiting to get in the Validation Club.  Or I can really just say, wow, I’m tired of talking about this.  Regenerate already!  Get out of this once and for all, erase the early 80s and start connecting with what is right now.  From there I can figure out who I want to be.  

If Only Ounces of Misery Lead to More Butt Muscle

I was attempting to blog last night but my mind puttered out and decided that it didn’t feel like doing anything except go to  Relationship Crapola Land.  That’d be great if I had something new or constructive to say.  Or even that I was in a great relationship and here’s me and my significant other going out to dinner/staying in bed with a book/parallel playing while I am on the computer and he watches tv/or walking together, gently caressing fingers. 

Sorry, can’t offer any of that up.  Not even for myself to read because it would have to be labeled fictitious.  So fine, I was in a mood with writer’s block bonus.  More importantly, I noticed that the first things onto the screen were relationship type complaints.  I know now that the partner of a narcissist really suffers…suffers in a different way than the narcissist…who usually will not know or acknowledge what they are doing.  The first thing that should have concerned me in my writings last night was that of the impending Skype session to see my grandpyre’s first birthday!  Being three hours behind my time, I was anticipatoried out and closed my eyes until I got the text to get on the computer.  And it was awesome.  I watched that little guy wander all over the room, enjoying his newfound mobile freedom.   He was outta here, bitches!  He was excited, there were colorful toys all over the place and I got to see him on his first birthday.  Monumentous, technology.  Except that they couldn’t see me.  Looks like I could have left my hair up and avoided the extra pouf of makeup without doing harm.

Today’s it is the motions.  All I could think when I woke up was, Must get up and work.  And I work from home today so that’s A-mazing!  Yayuh!  However, I find it tougher and tougher to get out of bed lately.  I’m getting out, it’s just harder.    But for some reason, way later in the day, I have no problem driving to the track to walk for nearly an hour. 

I gotta keep the conversation minimal with Flip.  I set out my fancy set of teeth to bite the bait when it is offered.  I tell myself that I’ll open the email, I’ll read it and then just not answer it if it is going to be derogatory or if I find myself needing to defend myself against his untruths about me. 

Ego Fail.  90% of the time.  Other times I’m stellar about closing it back up and ignoring it.  I think it is because I am trying too hard to make sure he hears the real story before he gives his version to the next girl.  I know those stories.  I’ve heard them.  With his description, rarely do any of his exes come off as sound, moral people.  I can see that I’m getting thrown into that bucket too which makes me respond.  No!  Don’t tell your futures that I was THIS and THAT!  That’s wrong!  I tried so hard to give you everything!  Then my ego notes that the deaf ears are still attached to the typing fingers pointing at me in CAPS that I am indeed THIS and THAT even though I’ve explained myself with rationale.  The Earth is Flat again.  Deflate.

So onward for now.  My mind is mush, I feel like someone put Monsanto cotton in my head.  It’s not even original mush.  It’s sterile, infected, no original thought mush.

I recently thought about a woman who was mentioned on a PBS airing of Ken Burns’ Prohibition.  She was a journalist in the 1920s and went by the pseudonym of “Lipstick”.  She wrote saucy details about the nightlife in clubs and speakeasies.  And of course, she was a SHE.  Those were the only details that I could remember.  However, Google to the rescue in my ADHD moment of need.  Lois Long is her name, springing forth both the use of her name for Flapper ha-has and a wonderment of whether or not the creator of Lois Lane had heard of her.  She did write for the New Yorker, after all. 

My intrigue so far leads me only to archives of the New Yorker.  They do allow me to read one grouping of articles that spans from 1937 through 1946 , but then they want me to you know…commit…subscribe!  I’ll read what I can in the meantime.  What is noted is that for a gal who enjoyed being Flapperish and loving the night life, she did not resonate with the idea of women  being photographed from or even really allow clothes to demonstrate what we now embrace as Boo-tay.  As Miz Long (if you’re nas-tay!) says, “Women, though less favored structurally by Nature, insist on tucking in their shirts and buying waist-length sweaters, and seem to take masochistic pleasure in being seen (and even photographed) from the rear.  It passes my understanding.” 

Now of course, the Rear is the Starbucks of the body.  People can’t get enough of it.  We spend so much time thinking about it, working for it, staring at and coveting other butts.  Wonder what she would have thought of a whole society thinking that butts are the living end.

My Name is Shades and I'm a Flipaholic

What could possibly be so awesome that you are doing sitting home all the time that you don't have any inclination to see your insignificant other?  Well there are a few answers here I'm sure you all have!  They may have something to do with good computer virus protection, crocheting or abusing the letter Zzzzzzzzzz.  Well I don't know exactly.  But the events of this day have me on an Emotion Watch.  That's just where you are waiting for the bus of emotions to come in that may be very different, although very appropriate to a certain situation. Right now I'm in Matter of Fact mode.  


Matter of Fact, there was some bad buzzing this morning on the phone with Flip and he decided to be disrespectful, allowing himself to launch off the podium over and over again, speaking over me, in fact, not letting me speak at all.  I remained quiet during his diatribes and then when I would speak, he kibashed it before it could leave zygote form.  So eventually I broke it off.  I've felt nearly no sadness all day although I know it's really just that Sadness hasn't gotten the memo yet.  Sadness is off visiting a boyfriend this weekend and I'm being babysat by Flatliner.  Nothing.  


I don't enjoy hanging out with Flatliner, even though you think this may be a good thing.  It only puts off the inevitable.  That the tide of Sadness will pull back abnormally, like a tsunami and then come gushing out to destroy the unaware.  


I've been brushing up on my studies of living with or being involved with a Narcissist.  I personally think it is important to note that you really need to live with one in order to get the total bang for your buck on mental and emotional abuse.  It's called Gaslighting.  No one can see it, you can't prove it and it doesn't happen with others around.  You don't even know what the fark is going on.  You think you're the crazy one.  They're so damn good at convincing you that it's you, it's always you. They can speak so logically, whipsmart on their feet, and you suddenly start experiencing a ton of self doubt where you never had any before.  You think your IQ went from reasonable to a slow crawl of Duuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhh.  It took me well over a year to even notice that possibly, this wasn't really my issue.  That these things weren't actually true.  The narcissist will work you over so well that you will doubt yourself immensely and believe that well, you must have said or done this or that or they wouldn't sound so sure about it.  Until you actually give yourself the heads up and start really training yourself to watch your train of thought and memorize what comes out of your mouth.  To keep a log of what was said and done.  And then you realize...right there!  Right there...there's the sleight of hand!  But even that isn't enough proof.  


It's been said that the person who falls in love with the narcissist has the same physiological and chemical bodily activity as a heroin addict.  That's how strong it is.  That many people who don't get out and eventually can't handle the World of Mental that this dynamic produces, will basically lose their mind and many commit suicide.  


You would think that because I moved out, I'd had an immunity shot.  Not so.  I still tried beyond what I wanted to years ago with him.  But tried because he had me convinced that I wasn't committed or dedicated and was nothing but a Runner.  He won for a long time.  


He hasn't tried to really spend time or effort on us in awhile.  Not a whole lot of in persons for two people who live seven minutes apart.  Not a whole lot of contact for two people who lived together.  I expressed what I needed.  It went duly noted but ignored anyway.  As soon as he heard the words of break up today, he suddenly called me over and over.  He suddenly could email. And suddenly I heard his car pull into my driveway, to which I locked the downstairs door, not giving him the chance to even get up the stairs to pound away at the door that was now the  only thing that would physically separate us.  I closed the windows and curtains as best as I could.  He shouted up to me on the front lawn.  Hey village!  I know this is really public but watch me have the crazies in front of everyone!  What he really said was something to the extent of WTF but I shouted down that he didn't want to talk to or see me before so forget it now.  


He shouted and yelled and eventually went away.  All day the blaming emails.  The low blows, the comments of my love being phony.  He's blown up my phone but I refuse to answer since as soon as he hears "hello" he will go off and not stop.  When he's done, I still won't be able to speak.  He's never enjoyed sharing the soapbox.


This is where it stands.  Emotion Watch.  And then should I not relapse again, the finding of pieces and rebuilding.  

You Need Mayo for a Really Good Shit Sandwich

I must say, I am ACES tonight.  Turns out that I turned this night into a "ball of shit".  It's an alright award to win, although I must say I'd prefer to turn the night into a glittering unicorn or at the very least if it has to be shit of some sort, then how about Holy Shit (in awe version)!?  

The definition of insanity has burst it's tiny seed shell and grown to wrap itself around the entirety of this relationship.  After I tell him what bothers me, he spends another day doing exactly the thing that I brought up.  For bonus points, instead of understanding my feelings and trying to work with me, he gets defensive and turns things around on me.  He says to try and understand how devastating his life is and I said well of course...that's why I paid for the room this last weekend for his cousin's wedding to be sure that he could go and that's why I dropped off groceries on Monday for him.  He doesn't want to see the nice side of me...I think it threatens him somehow...makes him feel Less Than.   His view in the fun house mirror bothers him so much that nothing is going to make him feel better.  

He did a life comparison thing accusing me of having a better life (how effing DARE he!) than him.  Well, yes, I do have a great job, great benefits.  I've had it for about 13 years.  Maybe there was some luck in getting it but luck didn't keep me there that long.  I am actually doing the work. I don't know when our lives became a competition with each other.  And I would think that when he can be on the phone with other people and talk to them during the heatwave AND walk 3 miles with the dog, that yeah, he can throw me a phone call to say hi.  Why didn't I make the list?

Booooo!  Hiss-a-lot!

The child told me that I embarrass her today when I decided to dance around like a freak in the living room.  I asked her how much.  Was she maxed out on embarrassment or was there still room?  

Anyway, I'm going to see what I can do to examine angles in which to enjoy my responsibility in making the night Shit from what was Paradise.

Char-Broiled Cupcakes

{My daughter's artwork above...self portrait of herself and her Buckley}

I gots FLAMES!!!!!!!  I'm thankful to God at this point that I really don't have the same powers as Firestarter.  Because if I did there would be one particular Cinder person walking around.  We all know who I'm talking about but I'm not going to identify He Who Shall Not Be Named.  

Well of course I am.  If I were a country at war and had all these strengths and one tiny little bitty hidden weakness, but that weakness could destroy my country, he'd find it within seconds and I'd detonate into a pile of blown up heart.

I know he has a restricted license for now until he goes to court again next month when they really decide what to do with the charges.  So yesterday I offered to take him to get hound food because he said he needed to, but he ended up doing it himself.  Today I offered for him to go with the Teen and I to enjoy this state park where it has a huge waterfall and everyone wades around at the bottom of it.  He had time constraints so he couldn't go.  But I offered.  And tonight I was trying to get a feel for his new life dipped so often in AA meetings that one doesn't have a chance to dry before the next layer is applied.  I'm not trying to offend anyone about AA.  I know he is doing this for court....not because he can't handle being around alcohol.  He has an open bottle of bourbon sitting in his house that he hasn't touched in over a month now.  So tonight I called him because I hadn't spoken to him since near noonish.  I'd emailed him and not even crickets emailed me back.  When I called and I'd mentioned that I emailed him he said "Well you could pick up a phone once in awhile."  Alright dun-diddy-dun-dunce....how the eff do you think you got on the phone tonight?  Because it rang.  And I was on the other end.   He imagines in chapter 23 of the story he's concocted, that he does all the reach outs.  All the bleeding heart niceties.  And that I am on a throne wearing my long fake nails, black lipstick and my 39 snakes are snapping at him as he tries desperately to woo me.   And pretty soon he has me convinced so much that I am this person that I call the cops when I see a different reflection in the mirror than the one he has me believing is me.  

He makes me require a cupcake.  After I finish this beer.

I know that I've been so conditioned over these years that I can't even walk away in a healthy fashion. 

I found out today by going onto CVS.com, that you can upload photos to be printed to the CVS site...from FACEBOOK.  Not only your account, but any ole account you want.  Your nine ex-boyfriends, your kid's party photos, someone you are stalking....but I chose a couple for my dad of him and the Teen. And ok, yes I did gank two off Miz Eye's page too.  My older offspring is a fantastic artist with amazing expression.  So yeah, I took two of her works of art, had them made into 5 x 7's and bought a couple of frames from the store for $3 each.  Voila....artwork for my wall for under $10 for two pictures including the frames.  The pictures themselves were like $1.69 each.  I figured I'd let her be surprised when she visits from Arizona.  

So yesterday I decided to try the deli across the street for breakfast.  The young chef at my job makes a wonderful egg and cheese in a wrap and I am sure to come calling when I'm in the office.  But I worked from home yesterday and thought, alright, let's check this shizzle out.  Teen and I have been dreaming of it for some time now.  And it's my duty to check it out before subjecting her to it.  

So I order an egg and cheese on wheat bread....no don't toast it.  WAIT, yeah, ok toast it.  And then I had time to stand there and inspect.  If you don't want me to inspect, you have to be quick or distracting.  From the counter down, it looked like an old abandoned, asbestos crumbled building that they were borrowing for the day.  The lower shelves were full of building "cumbles" and there were some running rust stains or "something" leaving abstract art on the face of the steel cabinets.  At this point I'm thinking, but this place is really busy.  Obviously people eat here constantly and the town's population is not dwindling SO much by the day.  It must be fine (Say over and over to self like a mantra).  

It was a great bacon flavored egg and cheese.  So lifelike that I went against my Fingers Don't Touch the Food rule and opened up the sandwich to flip the egg over both ways, looking for the bacon that I couldn't see.  

Sandwich FAIL for this vegetarian.  And I won't finish eating something just because I walked over there and paid for it.  

There was one other thing they could have made good on though.  I'd run out of canned food for the Gato.  She weaved around me all morning long letting me know that NO, I was not forgiven enough though she had dry food.  So while I was at the Crumble Mart, I asked if they had cat food and he pulled a can off of a stack and handed it to me.  Now I more bought it for the popularity factor than for any nutrition factor.  It was like handing my epileptic child a case of twinkies and a Gatorade for lunch.  As I scooped it out of the can, I saw the gelatinous blobs of Gross and felt bad immediately.  But Azrael wanted it anyway.  It was like a placebo....See?  I fed you.  No one forgot to buy you canned food.  I'm a hero.  And then I walked off wondering if I'd actually just purchased a can of B-grade uranium mixed with road kill.

And on that note, a cupcake becketh.  

An Imagined Fart to go With the Imagined Chaos

I wonder who talked the dude on the Hoveround commercial to sing?  Not just sing, but he's super comfortable and happy looking!  And youngish to be squashing his butt into one of those semi-vehicles.

I don't know what's up today...I had three separate laughing fits today.  The Teen called me at work and as we were in casual conversation and suddenly she made this anguished tone of "Auuuggghhh!!!" and then "Azrael farted!"  That would be our cat...who you would never know had a fart mechanism when we lived with Flip. But that's because any distinct odor faults could be squarely blamed on his hound who frequently got into the garbage, cat food and drank swamp water, putting out swamp farts.  I fell apart at my air touch desk (a standing desk) and just couldn't stop laughing.  Teen was not laughing on the other end of the phone.  

Fart exhibit #2...(Get it? #2?)

The Teen was sitting around in the recliner as I hula hooped.  She suddenly exclaimed, "Mmm!  Something smells good in here!"  As there was nothing cooking on the stove, I retorted with "I farted." and watched her face register her senses with what I said.  Her little nostrils opened up a bit and her eyes got wider....so finally I had to let her in on the joke.  The concentration was just too strenuous for her.

I seriously need to find a life.  The third string of uncontrollable laughter is just baseless.  I saw a Comcast bill on the floor that had fallen off of where I'd left it.  As I put it back, I thought to myself that Yay, I'm getting paid tomorrow.  Teen was sitting in a chair, facing the computer.  I came up behind her and tapped my fingers on her eyelids and sang "I'm paying the bills tomorrow!"  I hardly ever hear the next line said by anyone...."Get your fingers off my eyes!"

And yet somehow, I managed to get in my exercise for the evening.  My 30 minutes of hula hooping (I'm convinced it will whittle some things and build up others), crunches, arms workout and the Five Tibetans.  Thankfully my mind kept busy during these activities and I felt no need to  crumble in a pile of laughter.

I am going to put extra gel in my hair tonight. An asteroid the size of a "city block" is going to fly by and I don't want to have to deal with errant wisps due to whoosh factor.

Now I don't want this to sound braggy...it's not meant to be in the least.  It's just to show once again, hesitation of commitment to something.  I've mentioned before how I like Buddhism but that it isn't something that I could practice 100%.  That I still enjoy 2 cups of Wicca and a half cup of Native Americanism and an oil base of What I Was Brought Up On.  But what's funny is that I was already born with a natural inclination toward Buddhism.  I have never been one to kill anything...small bugs can rely on me to transport them to the outdoors even if it's going to make me late for work.  Nothing gets hurt...not even Christmas trees (I bought a rather cute fakey last season).  Buddhism is the spirituality that I spend the most time reading about.  I do take a lot from it and look forward to learning an asteroid's girth more about it.  


Speaking of girth though, Flip has gotten mad at me...again.  It started when an ex hit on me via font and was trying to get sexayyyyyyy.  I wrote the dude back and mentioned that I'm not interested and that he's married with kids and it's not right.  So I mentioned it to Flip.  And yep, he namesaked.  Only he claims that he was mad because .....oh it's just so exhausting.  He used words last week like projection, and living in the past.  When mentioning this stuff to him, he acted it out.  And then got mad at me for having a reaction a week or so ago that he didn't like because he's in AA with an ex live in girlfriend, God only knows how many times a week now.  AA is his life now.  Even if I were seeing him on a regular basis, I wouldn't see him unless I peeked in the windows of a closed AA meeting because as he put it tonight, for the court, he has to go to "as many AA meetings as possible".  If I were actually in a normal relationship with him and seeing him, or trying to spend time with him, I wouldn't actually be able to.  Beeeeeecause....he went out to the bar that night to piss me off, got loaded, blacked out and crashed his car into a planet two galaxies over and ended up with an aggravated DWI.  He's so competitive he can't even get an average DWI.


So then, and I am guessing that most people would understand this feeling, he ends up in AA with his ex.  Seeing her multiple times a week and telling me to 'manage my insecure feelings' myself and that he will not go out of his way to be sure that they aren't having to sit together, etc. Well, I just told that dude off and he's not even in the same state as me yet I get the third degree somehow.  But he won't politely wave from across the room and be sure to keep it that way.  I admitted it...I'm not so evolved that I'm okay with this arrangement.  I *calmly* (at first) admitted that yes, this makes me incredibly uncomfortable.  Especially that part about hiding the truth for a couple of weeks and lying about small details.  Yes, that will frost my feathers. But instead of seeing my vulnerable feelings as they are, as me asking questions in order to get information so that I can better assess and manage, he throws me a concrete bag full of "manage your own insecure feelings" and puts on his crown.


He has to go to court again in a month.  So as he put it tonight, he wants to be sure to go to "as many AA meetings as possible".  Well.  I hate to sound selfish but he got himself into this double twister cone of shit on his own and these AA meetings aren't because he wants to stop drinking...it's because he wants to look good for the court, which is understandable.  This happened to him because he used to yell at me if I even spoke of going to a bar with a friend and not with him, yet he decided to get me back (his words as he was drunk, just having been released from the police) and go out to upset me.  Double dutch standard y'all. What am I doing with this baggage?  I should run an airline because I do not lose baggage.


Well now that I'm ruminating about this and all the cumulative damage done to me emotionally and mentally is bubbling up like a nasty bitch, I shall go find something talented to watch on the Tele.  

I'd Help you out if I Didn't Believe the World is After Me

Welp.  I'm not having a bourbon or any other wonderful alcoholic beverage that keeps those newly acquired 'womanly' ten pounds on me.  So instead I must have some more of that banana blueberry bread that Teen-A-Ling and I made last night.  Did I use the words 'Kick' and 'Ass' at all?  Because I certainly should have.  

Suddenly with the flurry of words being typed, my protector, Azrael of Pawling, has decided to jump up on the arm of the chair and sniff around to be sure that no evil was afoot.  Or afont.  

The teen had her EEG head gear taken off this morning.  The ride there and back was probably about 50 minutes longer than the appointment itself. The woman removing the sexy headgear was rather perturbed with our lateness.  We were apparently not fashionable on her runway at all.  

So I've wasted a ton of time today thinking about Flip and all that goes with the last week, month, 10 hours....because I haven't heard from him since then.  

I caught myself ruminating and finding that I am annoyed to have spent this much thought on it.  When I ask for direct clarification something that I am feeling a bit insecure about and instead I receive a short dialog about managing my own feelings and that he will not answer those questions, then I feel as though perhaps I must be in the wrong Oz.  Because I would answer such questions. And I have answered the most ridiculous of questions for him in the last 3 years, right up to last week.  Suddenly, he appears to feel calm, enlightened and in control.  He turned it around on me instead.  Based on the last three years, I am familiar with this drill but always think it isn't happening again until later on when I can think about it more.

In fact, my being direct and stating exactly what I wanted to know, and even requested that if I am off please do tell me,  sent him into letting me know that I was treating him like sh!t.  Really?  How about letting me feel horrible and not sharing what's really going on?  Is that treating someone like sh!t or something slightly less harsh...fungus maybe.  That must be it because I'm being kept in the dark (hahahahah).  I am emotionally vulnerable and he does not respond in a way that I would think a lover would if they cared.  

I let him know that while it's nice that his friends think he is this 'good listener' and people think he has all this great 'insight' (told to me by Frankencomplex himself) and that he values being a help to others, but he is not bringing it home.  He isn't listening to my pain, he isn't trying to make it any better.  I know we are all responsible for our own icky, nasty, corners of the closet *stuff*.  But we open up our deepest darkest to our loved ones...or we should be able to.  Especially if it has something to do with them.  In the amount of time that I have been with him, he cannot hear anything that I am uncomfortable with that has to do with him directly.  Instead it turns into my own character flaw.  So again, while he is enjoying the new spurts of ego boosting from those who appreciate how he has insight or a kind word for them, the well for me to try and draw from is empty.  

There may be times that I think his *stuff* is based on non-reality from anything that I've done but I will answer or clarify the best that I can for him.  Because if I don't, he'll keep asking or he will email over and over and be sure to mention it in every correspondence.  And because sometimes really, it's just compassionate to answer because of all his suffering.  I guess he really does not have the same kind of compassion for me.  

So one of my friends mentioned that perhaps Flip is passive aggressive and urged me to look into it.  I did and while standing in that room of pathos, check out a door on another wall....Borderline Personality.  Eh...maybe.  How about Narcissist?  Oh definitely some traits there.  Wait.....Paranoid Personality....holy banana handles....I've struck oil!!!  How can I possibly get someone with this disorder to hear me?  And how is his therapist missing this?  I know that I'm a Google Therapist but either she isn't recognizing it or she is only working with what is presented to her.  She doesn't know anyone else's side of the story. 

So now that I've felt safe enough to get some of the good stuff from him, I'm back to square one.   Time to reset that Empty Aching bite all over again.  It's so backward that I can trust him with my body but not my emotions.  

I just flipped through channels to see what's on and found a repeat of the MTV Movie Awards.  The song that I avoid the most and have knee-jerk channel changing reactions to, was the live band playing.  Isn't there enough hate in the world?  I know many people love this song...that one by FUN - "Set the World on Fire" I think.  Well I hate it and wish that it would invert itself out of this galaxy.  

Earlier I had on some cooking show...which I adore watching.  Unless they are dicing up animals.  So those bastage barbarians were just throwing mussels on the fire, or pulling the hook out of the fish's mouth so that it only had to contend with dying and not pain in the mouth plus dying.  

That's most of the world, I know, but then again, I love humanity but many times am annoyed by the individual drops in the ocean.  

When Will You Learn Your Lesson With the Phone Old Lady?

{The picture above is there because I want a hug like that.  I have been relatively hugless lately and am missing contact}

I am involved in a highly classified experiment.  It involves putting on the Big Bang Theory, attempting to write while one and half ears are perked for the punchlines....BUT, Comcast is having interruptions in service, resulting in the sound blipping out every 15 seconds or so.  If I get through the full half hour (including commercials) I'm told that the brain capacity that I had in Spring of 2009 will be fully restored.  

My horrible black hole habit of playing Farmville is strong-arming my concentration and time as I try to write this blog tonight. AND to make things worse...I am quite hungry.  Sure there are roasted beets that I made yesterday, and sweet potato fries that I made tonight (and got the Teen's major seal of approval - always like winning a date with Johnny Depp through a one way mirror!).  But you know, there isn't anything EASY to eat.  Ok, not true again.  I forgot there are black beans.  I'll sneak up on them later and woo them into my mouth. 

My trunk is still not fixed from the other day.  Mostly because when I walk away from my car, I no longer think about it.  It's when I step outside and see the car I make the "Oh, that's right!" face.  I thought I was so smart when I left work today and tied it once again with the same shoelace that tied it and broke the other day.  This time I thought I'd tie it to the license plate frame! Yes!  I got it this time!  No embarrassing ride home with someone coming up along side of me to play charades about my open trunk!  I think I even had a little strut in my step....yeeeeaahhhh....!  A GIRL figures out how to deal with a car issue!  Temporary, I know, but still.  A carefree ride home. Almost good enough to drive with my eyes closed.  

Well within a mere 120 seconds, I heard the shattering sound of my ego being crushed under my tires as I looked into the rearview mirror.  The damn trunk lid was laughing, swinging up and down like an idiot.  With each ascension, the "AH" and the jolting bounce of "HA!"!  And then the inevitable vision of someone catching up to me...someone who may feel the need to pull up along side me and let me know by hand signals and exaggerated mouth expressions that indeed, my trunk is flapping open and closed.  All the way home for a 30 minute drive.

Hey who remembers this game?  When was the last time you took the phone off the hook!?  We have all kinds of maneuvers now  where this action is no longer needed.  But I am maneuver-less today.  I have a cordless phone that rings almost as many decibels as the train that goes by here.  Or it sounds that way when the child is sleeping.   FLIP called.  I picked up.  Mostly so that he can't etch one more tally on his scorecard by saying that he called and I ignored him.  He says hello rather sternly and then launches into a diatribe.  We don't see eye to eye, and we won't.  He claims that I have been the disrespectful one, setting up double standards, etc.  I say that we've had this argument for 3 weeks now via email and I'm not elevating it to the phone.  Once he gets going, the words come faster and the pitch gets higher.  So as he gave me an infraction for not picking up the phone three weeks ago because I was 'afraid he would yell' I answered him by letting him know how it sounds andthenItalkedlikethisreallysuperfastandmyvoicestartstogoup and wouldn't you know...he didn't like that sound either. He hung up on me.  And so I called him back.  Which I never do.  Just to say, Point Made?  But he started yelling at me.  So the phone went off the hook.  Only I think these dastardly contraptions hang themselves back up after awhile.  

Well. Time to refill the beer mug and stalk some beans.  (Unlike Jack).  

I Bet Cole Hamels Would Love my Kale Chips and Then Marry Me

Beer O'Clock Here!  I've got on the highlights of baseball tonight (thanks MLB....now could you please focus on Cole Hamels for the next 30 minutes?)  I have not even pulled out my trusty air mattress yet, which is where my butt is usually parked when I blog.  Tonight though, it is On Fire degrees out so I'm sitting on a pile of blankets right in front of a window.  It was actually so hot out that I almost couldn't drink my beer earlier.  We're talking a COLD beer.  

By the way...mmmm.....baseball bodies.  As if on cue, they portrayed my handsome pitcher on the screen.  Someday he will realize how much he wants me and when he does, his wife will be sent a nice care package to go with those walking papers.

So I'm a bit surprised!  Probably within the last month I emailed my mother a link to watch baby red-tailed hawks hatching, along with the behavior of the parents throughout the raising cycle.  This is all done at Cornell University and the camera is "hidden" so that the hawks are not intruded on.  I didn't expect that she would watch any of it.  And one day she mentioned them to me, along with what carcass they were eating just the day before (I'd seen it also so I knew she really did see it).  It's become an online place that she enjoys visiting often.  I was on the phone with her this weekend and she was watching the hawks, and then exclaimed to my step-dad, "Babe, look how big they got since I showed them to you last week!".  

Even better, I'm fairly certain that my mother never knew what a hawk really looked like.  We went to the Museum of Natural History and strolled past the stuffed birds.  My mom pointed out the red tailed hawk to me.  I know- I'm acting like a one year old identified a primary color.  But this was exciting for me.  My mother is particular about her interests, which usually involve crime, serial killers (to the discomfort of my step-father) and anything cry-worthy on the Lifetime channel.

Flip invited me to go for a hike today. I found out after further inquiry that it would be for about two hours.  I had to decline.  One, because it was too damn hot.  Two, because I didn't want to leave the child here by herself.  And three, because I was in fear that even if we put the relationship 'off limits' for conversation, it would happen anyway, because it does on a daily basis.  (Follow the arrows on this chart...) Then the explanations, then blame, then the fighting, and the capitalized and bold font.  I'm lucky he doesn't really employ the italics.  I'd really be losing if that happened.  

So I declined the offer to lock myself into a lover's spat up and down a mountain, huffing and puffing in the heat for two hours while I worry about my kid at home. Instead, I cleaned guinea pig cages.  That's probably the best thing that anyone in this town has done today.  I wanted to have the chance to put them in their new waterless pool so they could run around without poopin' up my floors.  

Yep, that's the Yuki boy.  He had his turn and was a severe pain in the ass trying to climb out while I had dirty cage hands.   I hate touching stuff while I'm dealing with these guys and scrubbing poop out of their food bowls.  I mean, why?  Why in the food bowl?  Come on guys...you've been around for three plus years now....

Kyyo is the complete opposite of Yuki.  He was frozen to that spot the entire time.  Probably with that expression.  He's a love to the point that you could hand him to a two year old (and I have) but if you put him in the same space with Yuki, he will go after him and drain the blood from him.  Bad Vampire Piggie!

Other than that, I needed a way to get those greens into my girl.  So Kale chips it was again.  Damn, they're good.  I almost finished them tonight with this here beer.  However, stopped myself so that she'd had have snack tomorrow.  We heart the kale chips.  Here below is the Before shot:

After the makeover, and two thousand degrees added to the small apartment from the oven being on, they emerged:

My 

Seriously.  So crispy. So simple.  There is not one reason to avoid making these unless you are allergic to tasty nutrition.  My butt is falling asleep just sitting here writing how great these were.  

I found a list today that seems sort of important and timely. But more on that tomorrow possibly.  I woke up this morning having that memory...that weekend memory.  The one where you stay in bed later.  You caress, you give all, you wish it could last all day.  Then there is coffee.  But that's not how it is anymore.  And honestly, that's probably the only good that was left, and it no longer exists.  Someday it will be superseded, of that I have no doubt.  But this is now, this is my latest memory and if that's the only loving act left, it's not reality.  Because respect should exist outside of the boundaries of the bed.  

My goodness can it be that late already?  I must get out my airbed and get ready for sleep.  A work day tomorrow awaits.  Nighty night rabbits!

I Want to be With You, Even Though It's Always Your Fault

It's Saturday night, kids.  The air is so heavy and exhausted with humdity and heat that it's pulled up its small molecular butts to some atomic bench that I can't see.  

I've poured an Erdinger into the only beer mug that I own.  I purchased it at the dollar store because a standard sized beer will not fit into any glass I own unless I stick it in my to go coffee cup.  This idea does not please me as I feel the two items are quite separate, coffee and beer.  Little did I realize that when purchasing the mug at the store it was one weight.  Once I got it home and it sat around and knew that it was now matched up with a household, it let itself go and got heavier.  The bottom line with this mug is that although it holds my beer nicely, I need two hands to bring it up to my mouth.

I am somewhat happily being a little Farmville robot while I have PBS on.  It's one of their fund drives where if you donate $3,000, they will send you a tin of popcorn.  

Tonight they are playing Celtic Thunder.  This is like a segmented Man Boy Band.  Instead of one dude doing all the singing and the others acting like goon puppets behind him, these guys come out one at a time and own a song.  Then maybe they'll come out together on one.  However, there is no dancing.  Oh no....the passion here is not in any showy type of body movements.  The most movement they do is suddenly realize they've been standing in one spot for the time it takes to cook a Swanson TV Dinner - in a conventional oven - and then take a few steps over and plant there for the second Swanson dinner. 

The passion is, in my opinion of the humblest of observations, is about 70% in the facial expressions, limited mostly to the eyes, and 30% in the expensive, tight and mildly shiny trousers they are wearing.  They appear suspiciously purposely arranged - the trousers I mean.

They even carry a tiny Irish eunich with them and he is rather adorable.

Moses the fruit fly just walked across my beer.  He's in a good state tonight that I am observant and OCD enough to examine the surface of my beer before imbibing.

I should mention that the longer I watch these Celtic Thunder studs, there is one Alpha Stud.  He's blonde and has one of those supreme modern boy hair cuts..the kind where it's longish and is styled to look free and unstyled.

Today was yet another day of dark depression mixed in with the healthier moments of granola that are the blessings that a break will give you.  But I took the Teen-a-ling for a grueling seven minute walk in the heat to the deli to get us mozzarella, basil, balsamic and olive oil sandwiches.  We ate outside and watched the brave sparrows try to get close when we'd throw bread on the ground.  Ok, "we" didn't throw bread on the ground.  I took a piece of bread off of her sandwich and threw it down.  

This child would not have survived the same schedule or activities that I took part in 30 years ago.  She complained the entire way home (all seven minutes) about the heat.  

So I took her on to a beach down the road to see if they were open yet.  She had a great time hanging with other kids, tangling herself up in the gross seaweed and digging in the sand full of goose poop.  I decided to walk on the small pier like walkway.  It's slim!  It goes out over my head!  I started to feel panic.  Then I looked at the camera in my hand.  What if it falls in the water?  I wrapped the string around my wrist.  What if I fall in the water?  I quietly played this out, realizing that I obviously would be fine.  I would just be grossed out with the seaweed caressing my whole body as I tried to get out.  I realize that I just wrote 'caressing' like it's a good thing.  Make no mistake, it would be more like grabbing, pulling, diabolically attempting to pull me down into the nine foot depths of the underworld.  

I heard footsteps coming up behind me and turned around to see a woman with her camera and I jokingly said to her that I was getting a little freaked out and without a second thought she slid her arm into mine and said "Then we'll go together!"  Wow. What a great moment! That just makes me realize how much secure of a personality I need to be.  

It was peaceful too.....I read some Wall Street Journal on and off while listening to bird songs, thunder, Latino Pet Shop Boys echoing from a distant radio and kids doling out their ideas on how to handle the interim while waiting for the No Water due to Thunder ban to lift.

When I got home Flip was waiting in the driveway, having come back from a hike with his dog. He handed me a note that he'd written on a lotto form.  It was a short but heart jerking note.  We unfortunately don't get along after about six sentences each in person.  That's probably one reason why I moved out.  But it hasn't gotten better since his DWI. Besides going away on vacation when he stayed here and I went to Arizona, this is the longest we've gone without um, seeing each other in the buff.  And I must attest to it sucking.  

But that's part of letting go, right?  

So we are awkward.  I tried to call him to say hi.  And that's all that happened..."Hi." Silence.  Then..."hi.".  Then me announcing that I called to say hi.  Then silence then we got off the phone after he thanked me for the call. 

What is there to hang on to?  What am I doing?  I believe deep down and have had it backed up by friends that yeah, what he did was disrespectful directly to me.  I honestly can't live with purposeful disrespect.  He mentioned that he went out that night because he was "bored, lonely and needed to boost his self-esteem".  I'd bet money in an alternate universe that had it been me that this happened to, I would be made to feel like a desperate whore that couldn't keep her pants in tact.  He denies this.  I've been with him for nearly three years and through 500 fights.  So I'm aware of what his cause and effect are really like, no matter how he thinks he can spin this to seem like I'm overreacting.

He reminds me so much of a cult leader at times - he can make me feel like crap and that I've done all this despicable stuff and while my head will be spinning from the latest accusation and subsequent branches of trail off and diversion into  his new complaints and character attacks on me, he'll do something like write the note above.  Sigh.  I hate this.  He's no good he's no good he's no good...baby he's no good.......(for me).

The Phone Hates Me

That's how they getcha!  I was baited with the promises and allure of the Odd Couple at 9:49pm and suddenly, the credits were rolling.  I was unawares, playing on the computer and suddenly Gordon Lightfoot and Carly Simon songs are playing.  Yes, it's that addictive half hour commercial that selects a decade of songs and plays a three second snippet of each, pulling you through childhood memory after memory, while yanking each one away with new notes to follow.

I think the seventies, save for my beloved Disco, was a depressing lot of tunes.  I mean look at Peter Frampton with his whole career being highlighted by Baby I Love Your Way and his 3 miles wide Whafro. That song in itself is not depressing but the transformation for him from cutesy man with the ability to hide ounces of pot in his hair to Old and Bald was probably depressing.

Hall and Oates is untouchable though.  Until the last decade or so.  Or maybe I'm ignorant since I don't hula hoop to them.

That's it...Rocket Man will cause kinetics for me...I have moved, I have changed the channel now.

A double bourbon (or so) and some Big Bang Theory.  I swear this show cannot create a bad script.  I think I've seen an entirety of one single 'meh' episode.  

So on a not so fun note, I did catch myself in another day of grieving for the letting go that is happening.  I think that's basically the sign that I'm serious.  I can't read my own feelings...I need Other Signs from myself so that I can interpret them.  There have been times in my past that I was so unhappy and refused to admit it to myself (no, really, I can make it work through all this anxiety and diarrhea) until I would see a physical sign.  Well maybe emotions are not physical but they sure feel heavy when they mean business.  Today was another heavy emo day but not so much that I wore it on my sleeve.  I wore it more as a secret decoder ring.  Only I know that it's there.  So I thought that I might share those feelings with Flip, as he is usually painting my portrait as some sort of fire breathing ice cube. So I'm insane, plus I'm emotionally distant and cold.  

Well, angry emails from him ensued, no matter how calm mine were.  He seemed insulted that I should care about him as I am the one who walked out of this relationship.  Mind you, this isn't what it seems...there is no motive here to try and get a naked moment out of him. This is just giving him what he usually feels that I don't have - feelings.  I do though! I swear!  However, his manner of getting his point across with someone usually involves that the other person shut down because arguing becomes moot.  Like yelling from the trunk that you'll show those punk mafia dudes who's going for a ride!

So the more anger he shows, even to calm responses from me, it piles pounds on the side of the scale of Cut Losses.

The phone just rang.  It's 10:46 pm.  There are a few facts to know: Flip knows the dimensions of my home.  It's small enough for a phone to wake up a child who went to sleep at 9:30pm, we haven't spoken on the phone in a while, and by the tone of the emails that he's been sending, picking it up is not going to yield anything useful.  

Yet I picked it up.  Probably because of him having court tomorrow.  He was angry, it didn't go well and he hung up on me.  He doesn't allow me to express feelings of love because it does not jive with our separate lives now.  Yet he also does not want me to express negative feelings....or does he?  It certainly does justify whatever his story is, in his head.  Basically it is a lose-lose situation for me unless I say I was wrong about everything, ever and I want to move back in.  

He cited and ticketed me for seeing an 'online' sign for Google that I was there but then quickly Not being there.  I guess Google blabs as to whether or not you are there.  Truth is, I did not deliberately hide.  I just clicked off Google in order to go to this site.  I have two Google accounts, one for the blog that I created a long time ago and one for a current email account.

Sigh.  And so it will go for a while until we tire of hanging on.  It is not a healthy relationship and based on the last three years, starting with month #2, it hasn't been.  

Speaking of time killers and mind wasters, I think I'll head over to Farmville.  

x0x0x

Mi Casa is a Casa De Peace

Big Bang Bourbon!  Today was a peaceful and productive work from home day.  I feel pretty durn lucky...my company believes in employing the Workplace of the Future plan.  They are working toward just having this space where you walk in and sit wherever there's a seat and boot up your laptop.  That sounds really awesome, until me and a few other germophobes think about the keyboard we may have to touch if there are monitors involved.

There was more insanity with the Flipster today.  I rarely do, but I turned into a 2D cartoon Flintstone when I read one of his emails.  My scalp flipped up and steam came out of my ears as that low whistle noise happened.  And I even shed a tear or two of major frustration.  Two thousand percent was put into the relationship since I first got into it and was chipped away little by little.  And Flip knows this too....he admitted that my enthusiasm threatens him somehow and that he's been squashing it.  Admitted it. But that was when he thought I might stay living with him. So maybe if I ask him about it now, it's evolved into a different idea, along the lines that I've made that up to conceal the fact that I've soaked his penis in acid while he slept.  

File under "Well, What Can you Do, heh, heh" and then continue to wonder when the healing will kick in to make me at least functional enough in a relationship to get a man's first name.  As it stands, I can't even picture being with another person right now.  I'll end up being 80, with my cat being something like 53 and pouring a quiet bourbon to go with my AARP monthly magazine.

Ok I took a peanut butter sandwich break.  Only half a sandwich but it was definitely a craving.

I will reiterate how much I love my apartment.  This place is what will keep me sane, my space away from constant hammering and on and on-ness.  More importantly, it will keep my girl in a safe, quiet place, where she doesn't have to worry (for the most part) about being woken up because of a midnight fight about me being on Facebook or how I disrespected him because of any number of reasons he could have conjured up that would be great for a YA novel.

On another note, I received a friend request on Facebook tonight and although the name is a pseudonym, I knew who it was.  I accepted readily.  I was in a relationship for a couple of years with this person and it was also one of the more fun relationships that I'd had.  He is living pretty far from here now and gets to the area about once a year.  He's married and has seedlings of his own.  But there is something to still knowing a person after 20 years.  Ok, it's really been about 18.  The amazing part is, before I hear from him, a song will come on that reminds me of the time we were together.  And then that day, there is the message.  Tonight he asked via email if I may be available for catching up in June ( I am) and if I've ever seen "Same Time Next Year".  Indeed I have, Alan, indeed I have.  

That's all it is.  A visit.  Nothing extra.  I'll keep those ten pounds on put on, I rather like them.  However, I really do need to up the ante on that hula hooping.  I'm currently doing 30 minutes a night.  It may take a giant razor, in a pinch, to just shave the part of my belly off that I don't need.  

Now that the peanut butter taste has worn off, it's time to enjoy the rest of my bourbon along with this Big Bang fest.