Done and Done!

Ever just feel defeated? In the last 2 1/2 weeks the following has happened:

  • I was dating a guy who not only ended up having severe PTSD, but he lied about how long he’s been here when he told me a month. Turns out a very good friend of mine had the extreme displeasure of dating him from November of last year until March. She lost a lot of friends because of him and said he can become violent. On top of this, she confirmed he was seeing someone else while he was seeing me.  
  • A very dear friend of the family passed away unexpectedly, and I attended his funeral. 
  • I had a meltdown at work, and, due to the above issues, accidentally “shot the messenger.” I immediately felt bad about it and had planned to talk to him as it wasn’t his fault. Before I could, my asshole boss had to give me a “talking to,” making me feel worse. 
  • I made plans with friends on Wednesday and every one of them flaked on me. 
  • I made a date for today, and he all but vanished. 
  • I made plans for sushi with a girlfriend for tonight instead, but upon leaving work, I got caught in a hail storm followed by a light at a major intersection flashing red. This turned my commute home into an hour and a half drive…and no sushi. 
  • I got a text from a FWB earlier today and we made plans given that the asshole I had a date with bailed. About the time he would have headed my way, he texted me to tell me he wasn’t feeling well and would have to do it another time. This, of course, was after I showered, shaved, and cleaned my place up.

Fuck this shit! I’m so done!

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Showing Her Strength

Imagine being a teenager and feeling like you don’t have a home. Your parents leave and go on vacation without you, leaving you in the care of random people you know. You basically feel like you’re having to raise yourself. Now add to that the fact that you’re dealing with something so traumatizing that happened to you during your childhood that you are considering doing drugs just so you can have a break from it replaying over and over in your head. This is the situation someone very, very dear to me is in, and I’m torn by what to do about it.

This young lady is a survivor…but that’s all she’s able to do right now – survive. She’s constantly exhausted, she can’t focus at school, and I’m terrified that the dam is finally going to break. She knows that I am here for her. I told her yesterday that I didn’t care what time or day it was. If she needs me, everything else in my world stops. I could see the tears welling up in her eyes, so I just held her while she cried. I’m not her mom, but in that moment, I couldn’t have felt more motherly.

I’m having to explain to her that what she is dealing with and how she is feeling is not normal. I say this to her because this is all she knows. She doesn’t know that feeling depressed and experiencing strong anxiety attacks isn’t something everyone goes through regularly. She doesn’t know that having her dad and stepmom leave multiple times on long vacations and not inviting her, especially when she so desperately needs their help at home is not a usual occurrence.

I have known her since she was 10 years old. We are very close, and she feels very comfortable confiding in me. She always has. In all honesty, I would adopt her if I could. As a woman who tried for years to have a child, it is beyond frustrating to me to see a girl in her situation with parents who, from my observation, are neglecting their daughter. I’m considering contacting her dad and finding a time for us to talk, but the last thing I want to do is make her home life more difficult.

Her mother is not in her life anymore for reasons I won’t go into. I will say, however, that her mom made a choice about who was really important in her life, and it was obvious it wasn’t her daughter. I feel nothing but disgust for her now even though at one point felt we were very close. Because of this maternal disconnect, this sweet girl is now living with a stepmom who didn’t want her to be there in the first place. There seems to be a lack of understanding and empathy on her parents’ part, and she feels like she’s in quicksand. The harder she tries to pull herself out, the deeper she sinks.

I tell her often that I love her, as I’m not really sure that’s something she’s used to hearing. I really do believe that sometimes it just helps to hear it. Plus, she’s just so easy to love. She has such a sweet heart, and I can feel her desperately trying to ask for help with no answer. I’m definitely keeping closer tabs on her by reaching out more often and making a point to spend more time with her. I will fight for her. I will have the necessary conversation with her dad if things get any worse. No one should have to go through what she’s been through. She’s been strong long enough. Now it’s my turn to be strong for her.

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Dating Rx

I recently started seeing someone. When I say recently, I mean as of exactly one week ago today. We’ve talked or texted every day and actually saw each other three times last week. It seems we’re off to a good start. Sure, with every relationship there are red flags. In time, some of the red fades to orange, but you just have to decide what you’re willing to look past. After all, we all come with some sort of baggage.

I don’t really have too much experience with relationships post-divorce. I’ve been on a lot of first dates, but they rarely turn into anything more than that. I do my best to let things happen naturally, but I’m learning to mirror my beau. By this, I mean I’m putting in as much effort as they are. If they aren’t responsive then neither am I. The problem that I run into is when things are going well and then I get thrown off by something out of the ordinary. This usually leads to overthinking and me feeling anxious.

This time, things have been going well. We talked last night and discussed making plans for tonight. We even joked about who was gonna text who first. I waited most of the day without hearing from him, so I thought I’d send him a breezy text just to say hi. Turns out that not only had he not responded after an hour and a half (which is not like him), but he hadn’t read the text either (he has his read receipts turn on).

Just as I was about to call to check on him, he texted me back. Turns out he didn’t get to sleep until almost 8:00 am today and is extremely sore from having to remove a tree from his parents’ back yard yesterday. His allergies have been bothering him for a while now, so I guess it’s safe to say we can add oak to his list of irritants. He asked me to call him when I leave work, so that should help snap me back into reality.

As my girlfriends and I have told each other…we can be totally neurotic with each other about the guys in our lives as long as they don’t see that side. If there was a pill for overthinking, I’d definitely need a prescription with unlimited refills!

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A Letter To My Friend

I have a very good friend who is frustrating the hell out of me! There are so many things I want to say to her, but I honestly don’t think she’d truly hear me. I know this because I’ve felt like a recording that has been playing on repeat for the last 4 ½ years. Because of this building frustration, I’ve decided to write her a letter. It won’t be one I actually send, but really it’s just for my benefit. Before I do, let me give you some background.

My friend, we’ll call her Gloria, is married to a man she’s known since she was 15 years old. Back when she and I met, they were separated. I was recently divorced and she had some wild oats to sow, so we spent a lot of time out on the town exploring the various “oat-sowing” outlets. Right before she and her husband reconciled, she met a man, had a physical encounter, and that was it.

It wasn’t until she and her husband had bought a house that she realized something was up and went to the doctor to get herself checked out. You guessed it…she ended up pregnant. To make matters worse, she and her husband had tried for years to have a family with no success, so now what? Tell him, right?! Nope! Ok…give it a month or so and tell him…nope! I didn’t even find out there was another possible father until she was closer to her due date. To make a long story longer (sorry), she had her daughter and, despite the fact that she and her husband are Hispanic and the father is black, her husband was still clueless. Not only did she not tell him for more than six months, but she allowed the “sperm donor” (SD) to see her and the baby.

At no time has SD provided any financial support, and he all but threatened her when she asked for a paternity test. Despite his cowardly persona, she is still infatuated with him. I am so mad that if I ever meet him in person, I will walk up and junk punch him. Oh…did I mention he has children from a previous relationship who he doesn’t take care of either? Yeah…real winner.

Gloria and her husband are still together and you’d think that would be the end of it. NOPE! She not only was still seeing SD, but had yet ANOTHER physical fucking encounter (pun partially intended) which resulted in her SON. Fortunately this time, she told her husband very early on, and his response was, “I’m done!” Who could blame him, right?! So he moved out, you’d think. Nope…he didn’t.

So…here they are, living as roommates, sleeping in separate bedrooms, and she’s still seeing SD. She complains all the time about her husband not wanting to do anything with her and how lonely it is. She talks about how romantic SD is despite the fact that he STILL won’t take a DNA test so he can start paying back child support. I’m really starting to feel like her husband (“I’m done!”), but I’m trying to figure out how to be her friend. The result is that I’ve distanced myself from her quite a bit.

I’ve been a bit distraught for a while about all this, but I need some sort of outlet. This letter I’m writing below is what I really want to say but can’t/won’t. I guess this is my way of being her friend and saving our relationship but getting my frustrations out before my head fucking explodes!!!!

Here goes…


Dear Gloria,

We’ve been friends for a while now, and I’ve always been an ear when you need someone to listen. Now it’s time for you to return the favor. I’ve always been clear about my opinion of SD, but it seems you haven’t been listening to anything I’ve said, so I’ve resulted in writing to you in hopes that these words will sink in.

You are in the unfortunate situation of being tied to SD for the rest of your life because of your lack of control around him. He has proven over and over what a worthless piece of shit he is, but you fail to see it. It appears your confidence is at an all-time low, but I want you to hear what I’m about to say. GROW THE FUCK UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You are the mother of two, yes TWO children who are innocent in all this. SD is a joke. He doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t care about your kids…yes, YOUR kids. A sperm donor does not a father make! He needs to be forced to take a paternity test so he can pay back child support, or he needs to be cut out of your life and the kids’ lives. If you think for one second that he will take care of you and the kids, you’re kidding yourself. Have more respect for yourself than that!! I will never support you seeing him…ever. I will never like him…ever. If I ever do come across him, he better fucking run!!!!!!! I’m really struggling not just telling you off in person when you tell me you’ve seen or talked to him. Seriously…grow up!

As far as your husband goes…you have NO RIGHT to say what he should or shouldn’t do or feel. That’s over. The fact that you refer to him as your kids’ daddy to your friends and family is utterly pissing me off! How DARE you put him in that situation. It’s bad enough you’ve betrayed him twice and have the children to prove it, but you act like the victim. Again…GROW UP! Be an adult and take responsibility for what you’ve done. If he doesn’t want to be around you, who can blame him? Why he’s stayed makes no sense. YOU need to be the one to end your marriage because he never will. YOU need to give him the freedom to live his life. It’s the least you can do considering you’re STILL seeing SD! Don’t you DARE blame your husband for wanting to see or talk to other women. You think you’re lonely?!?! How the fuck do you think he feels?

You wonder why I haven’t seen you or the kids in a while and rarely ask what’s going on with them because I know exactly where the conversation is going to lead. I am quickly losing patience with you and the days of biting my tongue will soon be over if you don’t get your shit together. I am not going to enable your behavior any longer and don’t really give a fuck if you’re lonely. Fuck that! I’ve been divorced now for over 4 ½ years and lonely doesn’t even begin to explain how it’s felt. Not to mention the fact that my ex-husband and his new wife have a child. A CHILD!! That was all I ever wanted and you’ve got two and by continually fucking up your life you’re fucking up theirs. Do you know how much that fucking pisses me off?!  I’m to the point with you that I need a stronger word than fuck!

I don’t want to end our friendship, but there will be no sugar-coating anything anymore. If you dare to tell me you’re lonely or frustrated or that you’ve seen SD again, you’re going to get a HUGE FUCKING DOSE OF REALITY! This is not meant to sound threatening, but rather a promise. I PROMISE I will put you in your place the next time this comes up if I have to. If being a bitch to you gets you to actually take a fucking action in a POSITIVE direction for once, then a bitch I am!

Your infinitely frustrated friend,

P.S. After you’ve read this, read. It. again!!! Yeah, the truth hurts!




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Do I seek what I’ve lost?

Many times I turn to writing to help seek out answers to what troubles me. I’ve found that seeing what’s in my head appear on the screen before me allows me to organize my thoughts and help me find what’s missing. The problem I’ve been having for a while is that there is something I’ve lost that I can’t seem to find. It’s something I’ve lost a little at a time over the years. I’m finding that part of me doesn’t want to search for it, but the other part of me seeks the comfort it brought to me in my youth. What I’m missing is my faith.

I was raised Jewish, and tonight marks the beginning of the Passover holiday. Of all the holidays in the Jewish faith, this one is very much rooted in tradition. There are traditions with rituals, with food, with song, with prayers and storytelling, and, mostly, with being surrounded by family and friends. While I appreciate the traditions, I’ve found it harder and harder over the years to blindly follow any religion that has failed to answer many of the questions I have, as my mind is very science-based in its logical thinking. I’ve also gone through a lot in trying and failing to have a family, being married and divorced, and don’t even get me started on the shenanigans of the dating world. So where does that leave me? Lost.

I’m going to take some time to figure out who I really am. Most times, I go days without a second thought about religion or faith just as I go without thinking about having a child. There are other days that those thoughts can be consuming. I find myself jealous of those who are strong in their faith and use it as a means of empowerment, while other times I feel like they’re just deluding themselves in regards to it all. Most times though, I feel like I’ve ripped out my mom’s heart when she mentions something about religion knowing that I’ve basically given up my own…and what she gave to me.

How did I get to this point? How did I become so cynical? Why can’t I find the comfort I so greatly seek? Why do I feel like I need it? I have too many questions. That’s always been my problem with religion in general, as I’m more the type who feels that seeing is believing.

I really hoped that writing would provide me some sort of epiphany. Maybe it’ll just come to me later. Maybe that epiphany is lost just like my faith is, and it will just take some time to finally figure out how to find it. As my dad always says when I’m looking for something I’ve lost, “It’s always in the last place you look.”

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Tunnel Vision

Back when I was married, I would have a lot of trouble not thinking about trying to get pregnant. These thoughts are always on my mind. It was hard to escape them. Imagine every time you have sex with your spouse you wonder, “Is this the time I’m going to get pregnant?” Yeah, that was how my life was. It was all-consuming.

I’m happy to report that I don’t have those thoughts anymore. Since getting divorced, it has been like my brain has been rebooted. I often go days and sometimes weeks without even thinking about the idea of getting pregnant or having a family. Sometimes when I stop and think about it it’s hard for me to imagine, looking back, that I’ve gotten to this point. Again, those thoughts were constant and always on the forefront of my mind. It was as if I’d been suffering from a form of tunnel vision for years. Maybe my divorce was a trigger to snap me out of it. It is nice no be able to have sex with someone without that wonder clouding my enjoyment of the act itself.

Now, several years later, I find that my brain has found a replacement for the baby-making tunnel vision. My myopic thoughts now revolve around food. I’ve been on Weight Watchers for over a year now and have made zero progress. I do continue to go to the weekly meetings, and have not missed more than two weeks since I started. This new train of thought is at least different than infertility in the sense that I have total control over whether or not this works. If that’s the case, then why am I so narrow-minded about it all?

Sure, some people have tunnel vision about finances, while others have tunnel vision about not having enough free time. For me the issue, at least for the last few years, is always food. I don’t know how this started, but I sure as hell need to figure out how to end it. I wonder if the answer is to develop tunnel vision on some other activity. Maybe I need a new hobby to get completely obsessed with. The problem with this, in my opinion, is that being “obsessed” isn’t the answer. I need to get to the root of the issue and hope the light at the end of my tunnel isn’t a train.

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My Verbal Trigger

Sometimes a song comes on that reminds you of something from your past. Other times it’s a certain scent. These both can elicit strong emotions and vivid memories. Tonight it was neither of these two that brought me to tears. Instead, it was a simple line on a TV show. During the episode, the husband had lost his loving wife of 60 years after undergoing surgery. When he had made the arrangements for her and was leaving the hospital, he realized he’d arrived in an ambulance and was going to have to take a taxi home. The doctor who was with him offered to take care of calling a cab for him, but he replied by saying that he was going to have to figure out how to do things on his own now. Just those few words spoken by him immediately caused me to be reminded of a very significant time when those exact words were not only spoken by me, but someone else. That person was my ex-husband.

I’m not sure how other couples experience the moment when they decide their marriage is over, but as for my ex-husband and I, it was very touching. We had originally decided in a bit of an abrupt manner two days after our 16th anniversary. The night that it was first decided, I had found out the reason I had been feeling so awful was because I had strep throat. My husband at the time offered to make me some soup or get me some sprite, but I told him not to bother because I was going to have to figure out how to do things on my own.

Two days later, after I went to an individual counseling session, we both agreed that, just to be sure, we should go to a couples counselor to make sure this is what we really wanted. Fifteen minutes into the third counseling session, it was obvious that it would be our last session as we were at a critical decision-making time. The next day, my husband wrenched his back so badly that he could barely walk. He’d hoped it would be better the day after, but instead he looked like an elderly person as he tried to go about his daily activities. I tried helping him but he refused to accept any help. It was breaking my heart to see him like that.

Finally the next day, he made a trip to the doctor’s office whereby he was given two prescriptions. One was for a muscle, and the other was for pain. How he drove there I will never know. He came home after picking up his prescription and went to the bedroom to get some rest. When he was moaning in pain, I asked him if his pain meds were working. He said that he didn’t get them because he was afraid they’d make him sick. I told him that he can’t go on like that and that I was going to go pick them up from the pharmacy. He argued with me about it, but I stood my ground and told him I’d be back in just a few minutes.

When I got back home with his pills, I entered the bedroom where he was trying to rest. I got him some water, took out the recommended dosage, and handed both to him. At that point he was sitting on the side of the bed facing me. He took the water and the pills and, after swallowing both, told me through tears that he couldn’t have me helping him because he was going to have to figure out how to do it himself.

We both knew that was it. It was over. This was the moment we decided to end our marriage. I gently held him in my arms as our emotions took us both over. We talked and together agreed that we were done. Looking back, it really was a beautiful moment. What surprised us both was that once we made this decision together, all of the stress we’d been feeling for so long was finally gone. That was yet another reason we knew we’d made the right decision.

Things for us ended amicably, and he is remarried with a daughter of his own. I, on the other hand, am still single but very content and happy with my life. I guess if things were going to end with my marriage, I’m happy to know that despite all our differences, it was the one thing we could agree upon together.

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