May 2003 Archives

I am divorced.

More tomorrow.

Wake up with a headache, a backache, feeling like I've slept a thousand years but knowing I haven't slept at all because I've awoken to the same place in life. The quiet and alone-borne stillness is overpowered by the chaos inside my head, the racket of a rickety piece of machinery trying to make sense of the scraps it's found. Remanents of ugly dreams begin to surface, detaching from my subconsious into pieces, floating to the top. I dreamt of bad intent, harm and loss, struggle and fear, rape and death. It was an exhausting journey that I very much feel I truly took, and that must be why I feel the way I do right now.

As my mind attempts to sweep up and store away the haunting dream remnants that cling determinedly to my consciousness, external messages demand its attention, too. My mind looks up from its tasks distractedly and tries to read the words, but it feels more like a failed attempt at deciphering. Words and even actions are fairly clear but trying to connect the dots this morning is pointless. I wouldn't be able to see the picture anyway.

All this horror and confusion, and look! It's a beautiful day. I'm alive to see the sunlight illuminating my home. Birds are singing, cats are purring, and there's not a thing wrong in the world.

Hey, where's the content on this blog?!

On to something that's not lyrics. (I'm going to cut back on them, I swear):
CHILD CUSTODY

I had a very difficult talk with my ex yesterday. We've come to an agreement that comes far closer to being something I can live with. (Since when did he become so reasonable?) We both agree that the children need a primary residence. Before I left and almost all the time since I assumed we'd continue with our 50/50 child care arrangement. After all, we've done this for nearly two years. He works seven out of every fourteen days, on which days I have the children. On his seven off days, he has them. Fair enough, eh? But there have been several events, mainly school related, that have forced me to rethink my idealistic little scenario. In any case, to skip to the point, the new agreement:

The children will be in my home now (including overnight) six out of every fourteen days throughout the school year and half of their out-of-school days. I conceeded to let my ex take the kids to church every Sunday, including "my" Sundays. He agreed to take them straight to church and back again (church + after church activities can equal six hours or more, easily) and not to take them to any other church services but Sundays'.

Actually, come to think of this church bit, it's pretty miraculous. One of the big original reasons I left was over religion. Regarding the children, he wanted to take them to church (an hour commute, one way) something like four days a week, with each service being no less than two hours in length. He also wanted to pull them from public school so they could spend all their daytime hours in church school. And this church... well, to be kind, they're very fanatical and radical.

I'm getting a bit off topic. I'm sitting here thinking how very much EVERYTHING has changed over this past year. I'm a capable adult who's been on this earth a respectable number of years now and I still find it honestly mind-boggling. "I never would'a guessed." No, more than that. It's incredible. The distance between where I sit now and where I sat a year ago today is thousands of distances farther than one year.

As many of the things I objected to most about my ex have faded away-- in fact, the very leading reasons have dissolved-- do I regret leaving? I'm going to write about that in my next entry.

The line in italics is the line that originally caught my ear and led me to listen to the rest of the lyrics and download the song.

"Hey Leonardo (She Likes Me for Me)"
by Blessid Union of Souls

She has got so much to offer
Why does she waste all her time with me?
There must be something there that I don't see--

"I thought of you and turned to the gate, and on my way came up with the answers; I scratched my head and the answers were gone..."
--"Spoon," Dave Matthews and Alanis Morisette

These are my lyrics for the day.

I'm absolutely torn, and it seems no amount of time is going to help me make a decision.

My ex and I did come to an agreement regarding the children. After a year of fighting it out it didn't seem possible, but we did. Things have dragged on since then, though. You'd think you make an agreement and it's over, but in our case minor skirmishes have ensued. He's finally conceded the point and they tell me, if I only give the word-- and this totally boggles my mind, I truly cannot conceive it-- I will be divorced in less than two weeks.

I'm in turmoil.

Since we made the agreeement, which places the children in his residential care, I've changed my mind. I couldn't bear it. I want the children in my home more often, period. I was willing to let it go to trial (at great cost of time, stress, and money) in order to be able to have the children with me half the time. But now I'm back to wondering if I'm not just being selfish. Yes, I can parent the children well, but in all honesty, so can he.

Oh good Lord, though, I can't even think for a moment on the future, the agreement as it stands, without my heart beginning to crack open again and tears welling to my eyes. That is not an exaggeration. It pains me so just to imagine it. I would have the explicit legal right to see the children whenever I wanted, and I'd have plenty of appointed time with them, but when it came time for bed, most nights they'd be in their daddy's home, and most school mornings he'd be sending them off. Makes me regret all the times I complained about such "chores".

If you are a parent yourself then you should be able to imagine just how much I love my children. If you are not, no amount of words could capture it for you. It's truly unfathomable.

What if my life were run like a reality television show and the rest of the world got to vote on what choices I should make? I know for sure some of the things they'd dictate, because I hear them time and time again from my friends and anyone else I encounter. If the majority of people so strongly advise a certain course of action, does that mean they're right and I should take it? In this case, I believe they're right, and yet, I'm going down a different path anyway.

Okay, you have to read the ladder theory at the site http://www.intellectualwhores.com. It may not be brilliant, but it does have at least some points to make and I guarantee you'll be able to relate to some of it, if not finding the entire thing right on. Mostly I find it amusing. It is somewhat crass, so please pardon, and you'll probably think less of me for being so amused by something so base, but in lieu of posting some of the funnier comments from the site I'll just urge you once more to check out the site.

I'd been on MS all night, ever since she started her defiant, unpleasant, and embarrassingly loud tantrums at Dad's. She cried all the way home and then some until I thought I couldn't stand another second of her ugly screams. I sent her straight to bed and did so gladly.

After screaming at the top of her lungs (yes, literally) for several more minutes, she came downstairs with a note in hand. Before I had the chance to become infuriated that she got out of bed, I read it. "It makes me feel like you don't like me."

Oh, my heart melted! I instantly thought, no wonder she's so upset! Do you know how hurt I'd be if I felt that MS didn't like me? The poor, poor child. I took her into my arms and had a talk with her, reminding her not only of how much I love her, but how much I like her, too.

Poor, poor baby. And I couldn't be more proud of her for putting her feelings into writing.

I gleaned a nugget of wisdom from a children's show I watched this morning with my son. On "Maggie and the Ferocious Beast," Maggie, the Beast, and Hamilton the pig were having a picnic. As they ate the sandwiches Maggie had made, they discovered them to be so dry they could barely be eaten. They didn't get upset. "Well," they reflected, "next time you'll have to remember that a peanut butter sandwich can be dry without some strawberry jelly."

What a novel way to deal with a mistake! And so simple. The next time, you'll do it differently. No big deal. Had I been Maggie, I would never have forgiven myself for my mistake. "I ruined the entire picnic for everyone!" I would've thought. "What's wrong with me? How could I screw up something so simple?" etc. etc.

I keep contemplating responding to a mistake with a nonchalant, oh well, no big deal, I learned and I'll try again and do better next time attitude. That's so obvious. I don't know yet why I feel that nothing I ever do is good enough, or why any and all perceived mistakes are inexcusable and unforgivable.

Did you hear about the agnostic, dyslexic insomniac?

He sat up all night wondering if there's a dog...

I just have not been writing lately, here or elsewhere. It's beginning to bother me-- why aren't I writing?

I'm not writing because nothing comes to mind *to* write. Over the past few months I've had more to write down than I could usually get out. Now, nada. I still get the urge to write sometimes but can't seem to even type out, "I have nothing to say."

I don't know for sure why this is. Stress? Him? Normal fluctuations?

I love to write and can only hope my "writer's block" is lifted soon.

Song for the day: "Cry", by Faith Hill

"Could you cry a little - lie just a little, pretend that you're feeling a little more pain... ...so cry just a little for me."

From http://www.intellectualwhores.com
Factors that women judge men by

"Competition - I almost titled this section disinterest. The two are closely related. We can only pursue what runs away from us. A man who is devoted to something else besides the woman is automatically more attractive. Any intellectual whore who has ever listened to a girl complain about how her boyfriend-ran-off-with-a-slut or how her boyfriend-is-really-not-dumb-he's-just-streetsmart-and-he- has-to-sell-weed-to-support-his-baby's-mama or he's-really-nice-even-though-he-ignores-me-and-hits-me-sometimes-but-you-don't- know-what-he's-like-when-we're-alone or he's-not-emotionally-available-that's-why-I-like-talk-to-you-until-it's-time-to-go-fuck-him while he himself is sitting right there and would like nothing better than to be with her but of course is sitting solidly on the friends ladder knows this intuitively. Ultimately, almost all guys learn this truth for themselves: The best way to never score with a woman is to show too much interest in her.

Women seem to especially like it if you are more devoted to your bad music, biker gang, forearm tattoo or marijuana. These all seem to work wonders. There are some interests you can show in a woman that will help you to fuck her: a healthy interest in destroying her self-esteem and in fucking her friends more than her seem to work wonders. Note that the following topics of disinterest have been field tested and shown conclusively not to work: Unix, literature, poetry, international politics, and sodomy."

"When did you last have sexual intercourse?" she asked, looking at my chart. She looked up, into my eyes. "Or have you, recently?"

"No," I replied. "I haven't."

"I see you give him second chances... there are people out there who would never need a second chance, if they were only given just one... all they'd ever need is one..."

There are times when I think, "Where is he?" I don't mean it literally. I don't want to know where he is; I want to know where he is in my life. But then I tell myself, that's really unfair of me. I mean, what can I expect? Isn't that a bit demanding of me? How much more can he contact me, how much reassurance do I need? What does it take to prove to me that he cares? It's really unfair of me, and I push the thoughts away. They're dismissed.

And then I think, "Where is he?"

especially when someone is here for me when he isn't

but that's unfair

Okay, so he hasn't returned my phone calls yet. Why does that mean I have to worry he's upset with me? Because I'm a silly girl? That, and the fact that I was rude to him last night...

- - -

Yesterday I didn't get to tell him about my day. I wanted to tell him about the housework I did, the jobs I applied for, the people I talked to, the things I took care of and/or straightened out. I was proud of myself. I thought he might be proud, too. But I never got to tell him, so I'm telling you.

- - -

I don't know why I so literally feel stressed right now.

(Before it gets too late, let me say that we had the most interesting weather here May 4. Interesting= lots of tornadoes. For the first time in my life my wish to see a tornado came true. Luckily no damage was done to me and I have pictures to keep as momentos.)

Talking to my daddy, I've said more than once, is like talking to an 80 year old man. (I call him "Daddy" sometimes to differentiate him from my "real" dad-- boy do I hate that term! I think it should be up to me to determine who has been a dad to me, but what am I going to do? "Biological father" is awkward and a little too impersonal.) Daddy is rather young (47) but apparently he's suffering the effects of a lifetime of alcoholism. This story isn't about him, though. It's about my brother.

I don't talk about Mic (my nickname for him) much, because he and I have never been close. I do think the world of him and love him dearly, though. I'm so proud to have him for my brother. He's a really cool guy.

So, the point of this entry is to attempt to explain a bit about him. On occasion I've tried to capture his unique personality for someone-- I swear you'll never meet another person quite like him-- but I never do it well. I thought I'd relay this story he told Mom recently. I know it won't come out just right, but still, maybe it will provide some amount of enlightenment as to the persona that is Mic.

Mic: Dad called the other day. The conversation was going pretty good... until Dad started repeating himself. About the fifth time he asked if I was going to marry Jennifer, I decided I'd devise a little test. See if he'd remember. I said, "Well, Dad, I would, but Jen has a little cocaine problem."

Oh, if you only knew my brother! You can't imagine it properly otherwise. It's hysterical. (And no, Jen doen't have a drug problem-- FAR from it. And no, Mic isn't marrying her-- FAR from it.)

As for whether or not Dad remembered, I don't know for sure. He didn't remark on it, and my guess would be that in the near future he asks all over again if Mic is going to marry Jen, without realizing he's ever asked before.

Sad, isn't it?

Today's song, "I'm Moving On," Rascal Flatts, was sent to me by a friend. This one doesn't capture anything in particular that I want to express, it just has a nice sound and some decent lyrics, which are, in part:

I've dealt with my ghosts and I've faced all my demons
Finally content with a past I regret
I've found you find strength in your moments of weakness
For once I'm at peace with myself
I've been burdened with blame, trapped in the past for too long
I'm movin' on
. . .
I'm movin' on
At last I can see life has been patiently waiting for me
And I know there's no guarantees, but I'm not alone
There comes a time in everyone's life
When all you can see are the years passing by
And I have made up my mind that those days are gone

Cleaning house today I crossed this Rx info sheet for a topical (cream) medicine in the medicine cabinet that I had assumed was pretty mild and inconsequential. I think I missed this part:

"WARNING: This medicine may be absorbed into the bloodstream and rarely cause severe (in some cases, fatal) intestinal problems. ...[This] may occur weeks after stopping use of this drug."

Why, isn't that lovely? And docs just throw this stuff around lightly. "Hey, want some of this? Take some. Wouldn't hurt."

I (literally) woke up with these music lines in my head this morning: "Look around your world, pretty baby. Is it everything you hoped it'd be? The wrong guy, the wrong situation-- the right time to roll to me." --"Roll to Me", Del Amitri

Okay, tonight just rules!

This line caught my ear: "Maybe I'm crazy, but laughing out loud makes the pain pass by," making "Spoon," sung by Dave Matthews Band and Alanis Morisette, my song for the day (listened to on repeat):

Although this is my song of the day (rather like the soup of the day), don't read too much into it. Not that it's totally devoid of meaning, either-- why else would I listen to it repeatedly today? I heard it in a tv commercial and the lines "There's an awful lot of breathing room, but I can hardly move" caught my attention, leading me to download the song and check out the full lyrics. Yeah, it's not much of a masterpiece, not especially clever, poetic, or unique... but it is my Song of the Day.

Song of the Day: "If You're Gone", Matchbox 20

I think I've already lost you
I think you're already gone
I think I'm finally scared now
You think I'm weak - I think you're wrong
I think you're already leaving
Feels like your hand is on the door
I thought this place was an empire
Now I'm relaxed - I can't be sure

And I think you're so mean - I think we should try
I think I could need - this in my life, and
I think I'm just scared - I think too much
I know it's wrong it's a problem I'm dealing

If you're gone - maybe it's time to come home
There's an awful lot of breathing room
but I can hardly move
If you're gone - baby you need to come home
There's a little bit of something me
In everything in you

I bet you're hard to get over
I bet the room just won't shine
I bet my hands I can stay here
I bet you need - more than you mind

And I think you're so mean - I think we should try
I think I could need - this in my life
I think I'm just scared - that I know too much
I can't relate and that's a problem I'm feeling

If you're gone - maybe it's time to come home
There's an awful lot of breathing room
but I can hardly move
If you're gone - baby you need to come home
There's a little bit of something me
In everything in you

I think you're so mean - I think we should try
I think I could need - this in my life, and
I think I'm just scared - do I talk too much?
I know it's wrong it's a problem I'm dealing

If you're gone - maybe it's time to come home
There's an awful lot of breathing room
But I can hardly move
If you're gone - hell, baby you need to come home
There's a little bit of something me
In everything in you
Something me-everything in-
Something me in you

Deepak Chokra, at least as quoted in the movie One Hour Photo:

Oh, my nightmare! I forgot to mention it. I woke up this morning shouting and crying. Yeah.

I remember all the details, but some of it gets a little weird, so here's the basic story. I'm in some fictional place in Texas. There's a small group of us together, we're outside, and we hear sirens in the distance but don't know why. When I look far away to my left, in the direction of the noise, I see this enormous tornado miles away. I mean, MEGA enormous tornado. I can see it perfectly in my mind as I type this. I inform the others of it (the sirens were warning sirens going off in another town.)

So we go inside and prepare to take cover. I advise everyone to get in the center of the room, away from the window, where we lay on the floor, side by side, and cover ourselves with blankets to help protect us from debris. We wait for the ever-approaching tornado.

But my daughter MS is there, and she's scared and angry. It seems another girl (next to me) had said things about tornados that scared MS, and MS pointed at her and said, "This is your fault! You scared me!" and then MS got upset, seemingly not believing a tornado was really approaching, and she ran off, down a set of stairs, to a place where I knew she would not be safe. She would die. I screamed in horror for her not to go (I think this is where I woke up screaming, but I must've fallen back asleep, because the dream continued). As close as this monster tornado was at this point, I jumped up to go after her, but as I did, I glanced out the window and saw the tornado had arrived directly upon us. I took cover. There are some more details I'm omitting here, but suffice it to say, when it was all over, and I went looking for my daughter, she was gone. Dead.

I couldn't fall back asleep after that.

Any dream interpreters out there?

[Afternote: According to dream interpreters, tornados point to your state of mind, and emotional turmoil, "whirlwind of emotions", and/or rapid or sudden changes in your life. They often represent fears of separation. Tornados are sudden storms, hard to predict, that leave devastation in their wake; therefore, tornados often symbolize "violent" and "unpredictable" events in our lives.]
["Nightmares that wake you up indicate the surfacing of particularly powerful material. In these cases, the mind can only think of one way to deal with the situation - ESCAPE!"]

"Escape is never the safest path..." --"Dissident," by Pearl Jam

I have some very good ideas of what this dream is about, upon reflection. I'lll share later.

What is it they say about knowing being better than the unknown?

More here later.

(Review lyrics for "That's The Way It Is". It sums up today very nicely.)

On my previous entry entitled, "We Talked", I had indicated I'd write more on that later. I've decided against doing so, at least for now. The "we" refers to Him, of course. (I'm going to have to find a better way to refer to him than capitalizing his pronouns. That no longer works for me. Texas Boy? I'll think of something.) Feel free to ask me about the subject-- I'd love to know if your thoughts run parallel to mine-- but mums the word, publically.

So, single again! My how quickly things can change, and even more surprising, how quickly my life can rearrange itself. Have I been suppressing my social life all this time, like one plugging up the end of a garden hose with their thumb? I let up a little and it comes bursting out full force. Geez.

[P.S.- FYI- It can be spelled "publically" or "publicly".]

All day long I've wanted to write, and all day long nothing has come to mind. As you can see, it still hasn't.

Last night I slept in the living room with my "I Am Loved" bear, sliding glass door open so I could be closer to the thunderstorm. I was so tired I more or less slept through it, but it must have been awesome because I do remember the thunder shaking the house. If only I had been awake for it! I see more thunderstorms predicted for me this week, though, so maybe I'll get a second chance.

Second chances...

Thunderstorms are one of the really good parts of life. (And if you can experience one with a loved one, especially with candles and wine, you're truly blessed!)

My children are in Orlando without me right now. I could explain the significance of this to you if you were so inclined. It's significant.

He broke up with me. Apparently. But we're together again. Apparently.

Sometimes I wonder just how much I should say publically.
And sometimes I get really tired of thinking.

I'm trying to take charge of my life, focus on the present, think on good things, be happy, actively live. Time to spend time on my social life once more. All's very well so far.

I'm not sure I understand anything. I don't know who or what is right, or if there is a right, and I don't know how to fix it, or if it needs fixing at all, or even if it should be attempted. Or if "it" exists. But I'm exhausted and darn near delirious, so kindly ignore the ramblings of a tired woman.

(Ooooooh! A thunderstorm! As I said earlier today, only half-joking, "I'm the luckiest girl in the world!")