Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

crying

August 4, 2013

My mom and I go on summer trips every year, and we were on the flight home when we started talking about my divorce a little.

Actually, we’d talked about it on the trip before: the topic came up and I realized I had the perfect opportunity to tell my mom why I’d gotten divorced in a way she could understand.

“Mom, he cheated on me.”

He cheated on me once when we were engaged, and then later, with his godsister’s nanny, in Vegas, while I was home too busy with my job to leave town.  I’d even gotten sick enough to ask him to come home early, and normally that’s the sort of thing he would do, but he didn’t.  I remember thinking that was weird and wondering why he wouldn’t come home to help me.  Turns out, he was cheating on me.

I should also add here that his godsister was actually his ex-girlfriend, and sometimes I wonder if they were sleeping together.

So anyways, my mom was finally starting to get the picture about why I left him and filed for divorce.  I mean, everyone understands “he cheated on me”.  All the other reasons I left him– the actual reasons, mind you, the abuse and misogyny and control and his laziness and entitlement– apparently those are hard to explain and hard to understand.

But then, on the flight home, it came up again, and I think I was starting to get through to my mom about all those other things.  And then I started crying

My mom told me she loved me.

So that was good.

That was on the flight back to Northern California, which is where my mom lives.  I had a brief layover, bought a beer, and then boarded my flight home.

I started crying and could not stop.

I was sitting in between two strangers, trying to be quiet, but my whole body was shaking.  It was one of those hard cries where you really ought to be alone in bed.

My book was good and I kept having breaks where I thought I was done crying, but then I would just start up again.  Finally I started playing a tower defense game on my phone and that succeeded in distracting me.

So… I guess it was a good vacation.

Advertisements

kind design

January 26, 2013

I am watching one of the dogs play with a cricket. 

She’s not eating it… she’s playing with it, like it’s a toy, or maybe a little friend.

However I do not think the cricket is enjoying it.

I wonder if the cricket (or the dog, for that matter) is consciously aware that this is a cruel world.

Instead of intelligent design, I’d rather have kind design.

here in Heaven

January 24, 2013

I was listening to some older music, and “Come to Jesus” by Mindy Smith is just as beautiful as I remember it.  Also, I started to cry a little when she sang,

here in Heaven we will wait for your arrival
here in Heaven you will finally understand

Religion sure is beautiful sometimes.  Sometimes I miss believing that people were waiting for me and we would all know everything someday.  Reality isn’t so bad, but when you compare it to fantasy, well…

If you get a chance, listen to the song.  It gives me chills, it is so well written.

why women in combat are beside the point

January 23, 2013

Females are allowed to serve in combat now, and this is supposed to be a great thing for females and a win for feminists.

It is not.

Of course it is fantastic that soldiers will be judged on their skills and ability rather than on their sex.  And, of course, females may struggle to qualify for these positions that have opened up– after all, most males don’t qualify for those positions.

Panetta’s decision was obviously a correct move– as long as the qualifications don’t change.  It is a mistake to deny anyone opportunity and prestige before they are even tried.

But it’s still beside the point, and here’s why.

It encourages this idea that females are only good enough if they can do the things males can do.

So if male work is worth more, female work is valued less– just by virtue of it’s being done by a female.

Obviously females should not be rejected from lines of work, or activities, than males traditionally do. 

But think about a nurse, homemaker, secretary, librarian or elementary school teacher.  They are probably female. 

Now if you think about a doctor, lawyer, or university professor, those professions are probably are lot less gendered, but leaning male.

But maybe a computer technician, sports commentator, truck driver– you think male, right?

And if you see a female in those professions, you might think she’s pretty special, because you know she’s probably worked twice as hard for half the credit.

Pilot vs. flight attendant.

Lawyer vs. paralegal.

Doctor vs. nurse.

Do you see where I’m going with this?  The problem isn’t that females aren’t participating in male professions– that can be overcome by females working hard and proving their value.

The problem is that males aren’t participating in female professions.  That would require an enormous change in the way we all value work and gender.

Haven’t you met a male who was great with kids– who would have made a great mother?  But I wonder: as much as he loved his kids and enjoyed making a home and raising them, how long do you think he could stand it, after a lifetime of people teaching and reinforcing the idea that males are providers— that they just don’t do that Why?  Just because!

Have you met a male nurse?  Didn’t you wonder why he wasn’t a doctor– if there was something wrong with him; if he couldn’t cut it, if he was just lazy, or ran out of financial aid or something?

But I bet you didn’t think that about a female nurse.

Myself, I’m a librarian.  And while most of the librarians I’ve worked with have been female, how many library directors do you think were female?

Ah… now we might see some advantage to being a male in a female profession.  But that’s a bit off-topic.

Right now, I’m glad females have another opportunity.  But it still makes me wince.

Spent over half…

March 20, 2012

Spent over half my day running reports for the boss, then the rest of the day trying to make it through the rest of the day.

Quiet night at home.  I can hear my girlfriend watching LA Ink Episode One on the streaming TV internet machine.  Crickets are chirping in my lizard’s cage.  I booked my summer vacation.  I’m trying to convince Yahoo to give me back access to the email account my ex-husband stole.  Also trying to get into a forum which seems to be having account registration issues.  And I need to figure out why all my RSS feeds stopped updating because Effing Dykes is the only thing getting me through the week sometimes… to say nothing of Sartorialist, with all those lovely people with artistic personal style, total lack of problems except which new designer to buy next, and no problem AT ALL wearing three-inch-heels everywhere.  (I make up stories about the people sometimes.  What can I say: no TV actually does make you more creative.)

And I forgot my password to my actual personal blog with my actual name attached, and I was planning to turn off the stupid Welcome to WordPress!! that is currently living there and put up something a little more professional.

Herbal tea with stevia– okay, I don’t believe in artificial sweeteners but this is just a plant, and the tea smells like a fucking cookie but when I drink the tea it does not taste like a cookie, so it needs sweetener, and you can probably come to your own conclusions about how much sugar I should or should not ingest right now. None, that’s how much.

You know, Kat Von D has quit her jibba jabba, so I think I will go relax now and play Skyrim.  There are homes that I have not burgled yet.

therapy

March 6, 2012

I’ve been having some problems lately and classifying them as “not that bad” even though I know I really ought to get help.  My employer offers this assistance program where they (the program, not my employer) refer me to a mental health specialist, who will give me six or so free sessions.  I really have to do this.  I’ve run down the list of my symptoms and looked online, and I don’t think I can be diagnosed with anything– which is good because I don’t want to be medicated.  At the same time, though, I am aware that I have been self-medicating, and not in a way I can justify as healthy, like being addicted to working out or eating vegetables or something.

Mood swings: not rapid, but definitely pronounced, 2-3 changes per day, and sometimes with a very low mood or a very high mood.  Motivation changes daily.  This is the most distressing thing.

Hungry!  Which makes me anxious because I have been getting squishy.  Not fat, but, you know, softer, which is new for me because I love to lift weights and jog.  The home gym is out of commission for another month or so (home improvement), and I have a gym membership but have a very hard time getting it into my daily schedule in such a way that I can’t get out of it easily… if that makes sense.

Self-medicating.  I go through weeks where I drink every night, and rarely have 3-4 drinks in an evening.  I can abstain from drinking altogether, but the urge is there.

I’m sleeping fine, actually, and sleeping enough, but having a lot of trouble getting up in the morning.

Oh… my memory.  I almost forgot.  (Ha!)  I forget things.  Like, last week, I was at work, and went back to finish a small project I had put aside.  But actually, I was remembering completely wrong: I had already finished the project.  Very weird.

Speaking of work, I’m having trouble managing my different projects.  I try to sit down to sort everything out, but then I get anxious because I’m not actually progressing in any of them.

It’s the anxiety that’s getting me.  Sometimes I just can’t sit still, or can’t concentrate.  It feels like something is wrong, but I can’t articulate it.

And then I randomly, suddenly, remember things about my ex.  For example.

In the first year or two of our marriage, he said to me, “If you ever cheat on me, you want to know what I’ll do?”

“Uh, I’ll never cheat on you.”  I remember he used to ask for regular assurance that I wouldn’t leave him or cheat on him, and he would tell me that he feared that a lot.  Years later he would not ask much at all.  He would also cheat on me, once that I know of.  “But go ahead.”

He said if I ever cheated on him, and then confessed, but wanted to mend the relationship, he would tell me that I had to have anal sex with ten men before he would take me back.  And then, after I did that and went back to him, he would say, “Why would I ever want a slut like you?”

So that’s creepy.  It didn’t creep me out at the time; I was more confused, like, how did you come up with this, and why are you telling me?  Looking back, I wonder if it was supposed to be a warning… I mean obviously it was a warning but did he mean it as a warning for me not to cheat on him?

That whole memory popped into my head Monday on the drive home from work.  My partner gave me a sleeping pill that night.

I try to remind myself that I’m still healing and I need time and rest and safety and security.

But I think I also need therapy.

and I’m an alcoholic

September 28, 2010

I went to my second AA meeting today.  And I’ll spare you my reservations about whether or not I am technically an alcoholic, because I don’t want to be the kind of person who goes to AA and starts off with “well I am not really a loser alcoholic like the rest of you”.  My name is Alice and I am an alcoholic.  Let’s get on with the self improvement.

I will say, however, that I have to put up with way too much god-talk at meetings.  I get that god is just a word for the source of strength for these people; I get that your  power can be the group, or reason, or whatever.  It’s just that whenever people in AA talk about god, it is a He.  And in a women’s group, that disturbs me.  More about this later, perhaps.

When I introduced myself, I said I started drinking [regularly] to piss off my ex-husband.  This was an odd thing for me to say because I had never thought about it that way before.  But I that was why I started drinking.  He was a teetotaler, and I drank very rarely myself, mostly for lack of opportunity, but also because it was Very Important To Him and I was  Respectful Wife.  Then later, we had friends who would bring over a 6pack when they came over for boardgame night, and my ex was mildly shocked that Christians drink!  But he didn’t make a fuss.  So that was a nice opportunity for me.

I should pause to explain here that for my ex, we had to do everything together.  This included decisions– as in, anything decided upon by one (i.e., him) must be agreed upon and also executed by the other.  So when he decided he was never going to let a drop of alcohol touch his lips, that meant I had to do the same.  If he had an interest in video games, I did.  If I wanted to fix up the yard, we both had to.  I realize now that this was manipulation on his part, to limit my access to the world without his direction and control.  I had two opportunities in our entire marriage to go out drinking/dancing with The Girls, and he took those opportunities to demonstrate his generosity, that he Let Me go even though he didn’t want me to.

Seriously.  It amazes me how controlling he was.  Most of the stories you hear about controlling and abusive husbands are of the violent or verbally abusive type.  My ex never yelled or hit.  I guess that’s why I didn’t notice for so long.  But once I started noticing, I started carving out areas of my life that I could be free of him.

It was hard.  I was really interested in local foods, gardening, and native plants.  My ex would go on and on (in public and private) about how Supportive he was of me, and how he wanted me to follow my interests.  But somehow, in some weird way, everything was complicated.  Either he would stick his nose in and take over something and do it his way (“helping”), he would offer to help and then fall through, or he would do nothing until it came time to really get to work, and then he’d distract me.

He started being a dick about “our” cell phone, so I got my own.  I password protected it and did not tell him the password— he asked me many times, and when that didn’t work, he peeked to see it. 

Shortly before leaving him, I told him I wanted to have separate bank accounts in addition to the shared one. 

And I started drinking.  I bought this wonderful green tea liquor and had a shot on ice when I got home from work.  I enjoyed his discomfort.  Besides, the stress in our relationship had increased so drastically, and his sexual abuse had become worse, so I had trouble going to bed with him, much less was able to fall asleep when I got there.  Alcohol helped there.

Then after I really left him, I spent a few months or so buzzed– not drunk off my ass or even drunk, but still.

And now I have a rule that I only drink when I am already happy.  But I have been slipping.  Hence the AA.  I’d rather do the 12 steps before I have to go through rehab, you know?

moving

September 13, 2010

I’ve stopped after only an hour of packing to wonder why I want to stop packing.  I am moving tomorrow– if I can get everything in my hatchback, that is.  I have my doubts.  My lizard’s terrarium and my guitar take up a good amount of awkward space, but hopefully I can also fit in two garbage bags of clothes, Indian spices, books, and of course the dog in her travel-box.  Books and desktop computer are going in last just in case it don’t all fit.

The worst part of leaving NorCal is leaving my mom.  Everything else, I think I can handle.  I am moving back in with my old housemates, and this is giving me pause.  I really really REALLY want to be independent right now, but without a job that is pretty much impossible.  I want to live alone and answer to nobody.  I love to be surrounded by friends, but I require privacy.  But the thing is, I am so totally fucked up from being married to a con artist– I don’t even know the extent of the damage yet.  I completely appreciate good advice and guidance, but it is difficult to be gracious about it when what I really want is to just go go go how I want to.  I don’t want to be using my friends and then just take off when I get the job and everything settled.  But of course, that is also exactly what I want on some level– I can’t live on the generosity of my friends forever.

When it comes down to it, I don’t know how healthy relationships are supposed to work.  If a friend needs help and a place to stay, and you can provide it, what does the friend owe you?  Is that a favor?  Is that simply what friends do?  It feels like a debt; how will I repay it? 

I conclude that I need to have a talk with my friends.

since you asked

September 6, 2010

Just a quick catchup for anyone who’s still reading… and for myself, because I really need to write more.

Granma died two weeks ago.  I am still living in her house, supposedly sticking around to help my dad out.  He doesn’t ask me to really do anything, though.  So I have mostly been staring out the window feeling sad, watching Cooking Channel, cooking my Indian food, hiding photos and other family paraphernalia (to make the house a little more neutral– it’s kindof weird to be alone in my grandparents’ house), or throwing granma’s knickknacks out (don’t tell dad– I’m doing him a goddamn favor, considering all the shit gma had, but he’s got a bit of a be-in-charge-of-everything problem).

I inherited granma’s dog.  She is an awesome little friend but doesn’t know how to be a dog.  Working on that.

Still recovering from divorce.  More on that later.

Still recovering from losing my faith.  Much more on that later.

My family is kindof insane right now.  Hard to trust them.  My dad and one sister are addicts (alcohol and pot, and meth), my mom is a classic enabler, one sister is doing fine but in a pretty solid partying phase, and my brother liked my ex-husband a lot and doesn’t want to know why I left, so I don’t exactly trust him right now.  I am trying to focus on supporting my mom and helping her feel ready to escape the place.

And, I am preparing to move back to Southern California.

Gotta get my life together.  I think I am ready now.  Or, I am ready to be ready… somewhere in there.

the upside to depression

April 5, 2010

I’ve been experiencing a relapse in my depression.  Nothing to commit myself over, just hopeless, lonely, bored, exhausted, want to cry, angry… whatever.  It’s about as bad as it’s ever been, as I recall.  But there are upsides. 

1: No husband around telling me that I am depressed because I don’t have a god any more, and if I just started believing in one again– one in particular, of course– I would be as happy as a woodland sprite and twice as cute.

2: Related to 1– Nobody else trying to guilt trip me because how dare a Christian be depressed when God Him Self came and died for your sins so you don’t have to burn for eternity, you ungrateful little shit.  How dare you.

But gods.  It sucks.  If I remember right, the last time this happened I felt mostly numb and sad and hopeless.  Now, I am getting rage.  And more crying.  I feel like this is a breakthrough because I am learning how to feel.  So now… to deal with that.  Without beer and/or Vicoden.

But do I distract myself?  Sit and cry and try to get it out?  Call someone?  Specifically not call someone for the sole purpose of getting through it on my own?

Do I use more italics when I am depressed?

Must be feeling better.

Must be the writing it out.  Will remember this.

I think it helps, too, to try to reason myself out of my sad feelings.  I mean, sometimes there’s really something to be sad about.  I have a few of those somethings.  But still: feeling trapped: yes, a bad feeling, and basically true.  But look where you’re trapped.  I’m stuck with my family who cares about me, in the town I grew up in, with food, my own room, hot water, and cable TV.

Then, the only danger is to beat myself up with guilt for feeling sad over nothing.  There’s actually very little risk of that.  Guilt never worked on me and I never got into the habit of doing it to myself.

Reading over what I just wrote, I realize there’s one thing I’m really struggling over.  Friendship.  I don’t know how it works.  I think I might be okay at being there for someone who needs me.  But I don’t know how to ask for help when I need it.  The few times I’ve done it, it’s gone horribly wrong.  The worst was last year when I did get some support for my divorce– some necessary support that I would not have survived without– but when I was truly desperate, I leaned on a friend hard and he let me fall.  Hard.  Nobody picked me up.  It took me weeks, if not months, to recover.  I don’t think I know how to trust, when to trust, when to need, when asking for help is appropriate and who to ask from…  I don’t know what else I don’t know, but I suspect it is a lot.  I know my inner resources are somewhat limited, but when they are exhausted, they are exhausted, and I would have thought that’s what friends are for.  Maybe I had it right the whole time but I just had the bad luck to lean on the wrong friend at the wrong time.  I don’t know.

So… in a way, it’s good that I’m here with little support.  I mean, I have my parents and a few others, but I’m scared to trust them with anything very major.  But that just means I have to get through it on my own.  Hopefully, then the next time I scramble for resources, I might find everything I need within me. 

I know it sounds cheesy.  I could write a Disney musical number right about now.

Fuck, I just realized I’m starting my period soon.  Fucking PMS.  You know, I was on the pill for ten years, didn’t have PMS.  Then I got a Death Star (aka “IUD”– copper, not hormonal) and my uterus started directing the hormonal chorus again.  Totally forgot what it felt like!

Well, good thing there’s Daily Squee.