It’s been many months since I last posted. A lot has gone on in my life and yet, not enough has changed.
By that I mean I am still legally married. Ugh. Sad but true. Not through any procrastination on my part but rather Number Two – – who couldn’t wait to move on from me less than twenty-four hours after telling me he was done with our relationship – – suddenly seemed to find finalizing our divorce not exactly a priority. Why? No idea and I guess it doesn’t really matter. It’s just incredibly frustrating.
So I’m still working with that, still working on getting myself legally free of him and what do you know? Valentine’s Day hits.
I hate Valentine’s Day. I always have had a hate-hate relationship with it, even when I have been part of a couple. It’s a bullshit “holiday” that exists only to make single people feel bad about themselves. What is that about? Let’s pick a day to celebrate love and lovers and exclude a great part of the population! Awesome!
I chose to go to an event that was supposed to be a social thing, to meet people and not necessarily in the male-female pair off sense. And yet it felt just like that. I felt uncomfortable and realized that while I have moved on in my life, I’m just not free yet. I’m perfectly happy going out with my friends to just have fun and hang out but I’m not in a place (yet) where I am ready to become a duo again.
My question to you, lovelies, is are you truly free? How long did it take for you to become free? Care to share any war stories?
Oh regression, how I hate you.
Maybe I should have known. Having been split for six months and seeming to deal with it incredibly well emotionally . . . Sure, a few sad moments here and there, that’s to be expected – especially around certain landmarks like birthdays, anniversaries or even hearing a familiar song that may trigger a memory. My sad moments became full-fledged days of depression last week. Not the type of depression that led me to a freeway overpass (melodramatic, yes) or unable to get out of bed (more realistic) but the kind where I felt as though the split had just happened.
All I could think of was my ex. Not pining for him, absolutely not. But feeling hurt and betrayed all over again. Feeling angry and wanting to punch his face in, even as I remembered all the things that had drawn me to him in the first place (and questioning my sanity, as well as my sobriety levels). Feeling anxious and scared about my future. Would I ever find anyone to love again? Would anyone love me again? Would I want them to? What if I was alone forever? What if Number Two went on with his life without me? What if he was happier? What if he was more successful? What did this mean for Thanksgiving? Who invented Cheez Whiz and why? (Okay, that one I stole from one of the funniest movies of the 80s – – The Sure Thing. Haven’t seen it? Get to it, John Cusack fans.)
Maybe the worst is the sleep (or lack thereof) issue. I have a brand new bed. It’s fabulous. I have brand new sheets on my brand new bed. They are fabulous. I can sleep with my window open because it’s what I want – – plus it’s quiet – – so that’s fabulous. Yet I am still tossing and turning and every damn dream involves my ex is one way or another. So not fabulous.
And yes, I know. My subconscious is at work. It’s working overtime and it’s driving me crazy. And I know that eventually it will go crawl into a hole until I’m stressing about Christmas or (hope against hope) I meet someone else that sets my heart aflutter. But for now it sucks ass – – I’m tired and I’m a grouchity grouch when I get tortured sleep.
The stressed out stomach could be good, if I was losing numbers on the scale the way I wished I would. And if I was at home where stomach cramps aren’t nearly as annoying and embarrassing as at work. It’s a fact that if you ever have stomach issues at work, it will be the day all your bosses are in or you are stuck on a conference call or in a meeting . . . or the most gorgeous man ever sets foot in your office. Irony is a cruel bitch.
So what do YOU do when you find yourself regressing? It’s easy to know that it’s a normal part of the grieving process but how to accept that and still go about your daily life without strangling the impatient and rude woman in the grocery store checkout line or burst into tears when someone makes eye contact with you or launch into your sob story when making idle conversation? (Okay, so I haven’t strangled anyone . . . yet).
I love this saying. Not that I necessarily follow it, of course.
I am a worrier. There, I said it. I worry about everything. I try not to. I try to keep a balanced, business-like approach but sometimes I guess I’m just too damn emotional or hormonal or something but I worry. Even when everyone tells me not to, I worry. I could definitely be a Class A worrier before the split but since — Worry City. I guess it’s natural, given the many changes my life has undergone this year. And most people are very happy to share their miserable, holy-cow-does-life-suck divorce stories with you.
What is crazy is that I work in a field where I have to be level headed and not emotional. I’m fine at work. I can separate myself from whatever is going on. I can analyze cooly and clearly with the best of them. And I know that worrying won’t change the outcome of anything. It truly won’t. But when it comes to my personal life and emotions . . .
Case in point: When Number 2 told me he was going to drag me into court, I worried. Even when family and friends told me that he was likely just blowing hot air because he’s impulsive and stupid enough to do that, I still worried. What if he’s not? Even when I was told by an attorney that he was shooting himself in the foot and such a thing would only benefit me, I worried. What if it doesn’t? I worried to the point that I had stomach cramps, I couldn’t eat and I couldn’t sleep. I have moved on from Number 2, I’m ready to be done with him so why?
Are you a worrier? Were you a worrier prior to your separation or divorce? How do you deal with a worrying nature while going about your day to day life?