Schlep-to-home-schlep-to-work. Repeat.
Is this what being an adult is all about?
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Things that make ME happy.
My cat has (finally) learned to play without his claws.
When I’m reading a magazine or newspaper, Alex Warra will jump up and knock it from my hands so he gets attention. I remember doing the same thing when I was little- I’d flick the newspaper my dad was trying to read at the breakfast table.
Black dresses.
Black, patent leather peep-toe wedges.
Reality television.
A clean litter box.
My Nook filled with books yet to be read.
Making it to the 10:30am Mass.
Facials. . . . ahhhh, I skipped out of work early one day last week to get a
facial. It’s a magical experience.
Pink nail polish. And pink office accessories.
Laughing.
Aquariums.
Snuggling into K’s backside when I’m falling asleep.
Bubble baths.
Cadillacs.
Riding trains.
Babies.
Lilacs and hydrangeas.
Museums.
Almond milk.
Seahorses.
Talking to my nephews in PNG.
Buying gifts for others.
Documentaries.
Trivia.
Botanical gardens.
When I’m reading a magazine or newspaper, Alex Warra will jump up and knock it from my hands so he gets attention. I remember doing the same thing when I was little- I’d flick the newspaper my dad was trying to read at the breakfast table.
Black dresses.
Black, patent leather peep-toe wedges.
Reality television.
A clean litter box.
My Nook filled with books yet to be read.
Making it to the 10:30am Mass.
Facials. . . . ahhhh, I skipped out of work early one day last week to get a
facial. It’s a magical experience.
Pink nail polish. And pink office accessories.
Laughing.
Aquariums.
Snuggling into K’s backside when I’m falling asleep.
Bubble baths.
Cadillacs.
Riding trains.
Babies.
Lilacs and hydrangeas.
Museums.
Almond milk.
Seahorses.
Talking to my nephews in PNG.
Buying gifts for others.
Documentaries.
Trivia.
Botanical gardens.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
A Letter to Myself
It's so easy to see other people's problems, but difficult to recognize one's own.
As a social worker, as a person, I've seen problems that have cropped up in others' personal relationships. The past several months, I've denied, glossed over and made excuses for the problems in my own relationship. I'm writing this out now, so that in the coming days (okay, hours), weeks and months, when I get the urge to pick up the phone, or send an email or check facebook, I can look at this letter to myself and hopefully find the courage to keep moving and not falter.
Dear Jessica,
First let me tell you that I do understand what you're feeling right now. To love someone so much and work at holding on to a relationship even as it crumbles is painful. But to heal, and to move on, and to be the person you want and need to be, you need to remember these things:
1. No one, and I mean absolutely NO ONE, has the right to call you worthless, stupid, fat, ugly, a bitch, an asshole or any other derogatory name. The person who screams at you that you are all those things, doesn't deserve your time, energy and least of all your devotion and excuses for such behavior.
2. As hard as this is to hear, it is better to move on today than a year later or five years later. Each day you waste on trying to salvage this relationship makes you older and more scarred. It's better to be 30 and single than 34 and in a hate-filled, soul-sucking relationship.
3. Let go of the dream. Countless hours have been spent planning and working toward a future, and sadly those dreams have to die. But, they die to make room for something better than what you can imagine right now. It's hard to get the picture of the life you had thought about, that you made choices to work towards, but you have to realize those dreams will not be a reality. If someone is going to call you names, break simple promises and desert you, do you really think that person is going to be a responsible husband and a doting father? Of course not. Move on.
4. You, better than anyone, knows this relationship will not work out. You know by that knot that forms in your gut, the anxiety that is with you always, the sleepless nights. Trust your instincts, they're always spot on and have saved you from disaster many times before, let them save you now.
5. Stop the excuses, for him and for you. To sound cliche, but true, love shouldn't hurt. Love isn't about controlling someone, dominating them, demeaning them, being disrespectful. Do not excuse this behavior with anymore of "it's cultural differences" or "it'll be better when we're together." Most importantly, absolutely, right now, stop those confidence robbing thoughts that creep in at your weakest moments, those thoughts of "well, if I was a better person, he'd treat me better." Have you not realized he'd just as easily call Mother Teresa a "worthless piece of trash" just as easily as he called you that? He would.
The writing is on the wall, this relationship has crossed the boundary of just being bad to being abusive. You know this, and you cannot salvage it. We don't need to list out all the names he's called you, all the insults he hurled (oh, except for the one about him threatening to have a baby with someone else and making you raise it), all the times he has lied, broken trust, or disrespected and demeaned you.
This is going to hurt, and every time you read it, it will feel like pulling a medical-grade band aid off:
He doesn't love you. No matter how many times he comes back with "I'll change" and "let's make it work," the truth is he does not love you, he does not value you and he does not care and respect you. I'm sorry, it's the truth.
And as much as that hurt, know this truth as well:
You deserve better. You are lovable. Your life will go on. You deserve happiness, respect, kindness, love, honest. At the very least you deserve these things. And you will get them.
So, you get one day to really cry it out, wallow in the hurt. One day. But honestly, you've cried enough over this stupid bastard that really, there shouldn't be any tears left. You get one day to cry it out and then you have to move on and continue life. Of course, you'll feel sad for a long time and for a while, every single day will start and end with a thought about him, but it will get better.
I promise. And we both know I fight like hell to keep my promises.
Sincerely,
You
As a social worker, as a person, I've seen problems that have cropped up in others' personal relationships. The past several months, I've denied, glossed over and made excuses for the problems in my own relationship. I'm writing this out now, so that in the coming days (okay, hours), weeks and months, when I get the urge to pick up the phone, or send an email or check facebook, I can look at this letter to myself and hopefully find the courage to keep moving and not falter.
Dear Jessica,
First let me tell you that I do understand what you're feeling right now. To love someone so much and work at holding on to a relationship even as it crumbles is painful. But to heal, and to move on, and to be the person you want and need to be, you need to remember these things:
1. No one, and I mean absolutely NO ONE, has the right to call you worthless, stupid, fat, ugly, a bitch, an asshole or any other derogatory name. The person who screams at you that you are all those things, doesn't deserve your time, energy and least of all your devotion and excuses for such behavior.
2. As hard as this is to hear, it is better to move on today than a year later or five years later. Each day you waste on trying to salvage this relationship makes you older and more scarred. It's better to be 30 and single than 34 and in a hate-filled, soul-sucking relationship.
3. Let go of the dream. Countless hours have been spent planning and working toward a future, and sadly those dreams have to die. But, they die to make room for something better than what you can imagine right now. It's hard to get the picture of the life you had thought about, that you made choices to work towards, but you have to realize those dreams will not be a reality. If someone is going to call you names, break simple promises and desert you, do you really think that person is going to be a responsible husband and a doting father? Of course not. Move on.
4. You, better than anyone, knows this relationship will not work out. You know by that knot that forms in your gut, the anxiety that is with you always, the sleepless nights. Trust your instincts, they're always spot on and have saved you from disaster many times before, let them save you now.
5. Stop the excuses, for him and for you. To sound cliche, but true, love shouldn't hurt. Love isn't about controlling someone, dominating them, demeaning them, being disrespectful. Do not excuse this behavior with anymore of "it's cultural differences" or "it'll be better when we're together." Most importantly, absolutely, right now, stop those confidence robbing thoughts that creep in at your weakest moments, those thoughts of "well, if I was a better person, he'd treat me better." Have you not realized he'd just as easily call Mother Teresa a "worthless piece of trash" just as easily as he called you that? He would.
The writing is on the wall, this relationship has crossed the boundary of just being bad to being abusive. You know this, and you cannot salvage it. We don't need to list out all the names he's called you, all the insults he hurled (oh, except for the one about him threatening to have a baby with someone else and making you raise it), all the times he has lied, broken trust, or disrespected and demeaned you.
This is going to hurt, and every time you read it, it will feel like pulling a medical-grade band aid off:
He doesn't love you. No matter how many times he comes back with "I'll change" and "let's make it work," the truth is he does not love you, he does not value you and he does not care and respect you. I'm sorry, it's the truth.
And as much as that hurt, know this truth as well:
You deserve better. You are lovable. Your life will go on. You deserve happiness, respect, kindness, love, honest. At the very least you deserve these things. And you will get them.
So, you get one day to really cry it out, wallow in the hurt. One day. But honestly, you've cried enough over this stupid bastard that really, there shouldn't be any tears left. You get one day to cry it out and then you have to move on and continue life. Of course, you'll feel sad for a long time and for a while, every single day will start and end with a thought about him, but it will get better.
I promise. And we both know I fight like hell to keep my promises.
Sincerely,
You
Monday, June 13, 2011
$497 Ticket to Ride the Merry-Go-Round
It’s the middle of the night and I’m waiting for K to arrive back to where he can access the internet so we can have a few minutes to skype. Starting last weekend, I had begun to feel bad with severe fatigue and sinus pain, and chalked it up to sinus and/or allergy issues. Monday, was a particularly unpleasant day with a headache and sinus pressure. Again, I thought it was nothing that some Dayquil couldn’t fix, until I was driving home and these sharp pains started in the back of my head and into my ears and my nose started bleeding. As soon as I got back from my site visit, the next morning I went to UrgentCare and the dx was a sinus infection and an ear infection. While the antibiotic seems to have cleared up the infections, the fatigue isn’t gone. I usually wake up around 6am, but this weekend, I slept in until 9 both days. I just can’t shake the exhaustion. So, tonight, K called at 1am and now I’m awake, awaiting his plane 9,000 miles away to land and for him to get back to the office so we can talk.
If the subject matter of the topic wasn’t so important, I would just go back to sleep. But, I don’t think you can call someone at 1am, tell them life-altering news and expect them to go back to sleep, when suddenly everything has changed.
By the way, did I mention my cell phone bill is $497? Yep. Huge mistakes.
Maybe I shouldn’t be writing when it’s after 2 am, I’m exhausted and frustrated. The thing is, I am so frustrated and exhausted. This relationship with K is a horrible, god-awful mess and I don’t think it’s salvageable at this point. I hate the feelings the end of a relationship bring- the unease, the discomfort, the utter sadness. I have worked my absolute hardest to cobble this relationship together across the miles, and I can’t do it alone. I shouldn’t have to do it alone. The hardest part of saying goodbye is the back sliding. The ‘okay, it’s over, no more contact’ is soon followed by a text message, and then communication starts up again, and then the vicious cycle of hurt-disappointment-anger-sadness continues again.
I’m going to try to get off this merry-go-round. One more time.
If the subject matter of the topic wasn’t so important, I would just go back to sleep. But, I don’t think you can call someone at 1am, tell them life-altering news and expect them to go back to sleep, when suddenly everything has changed.
By the way, did I mention my cell phone bill is $497? Yep. Huge mistakes.
Maybe I shouldn’t be writing when it’s after 2 am, I’m exhausted and frustrated. The thing is, I am so frustrated and exhausted. This relationship with K is a horrible, god-awful mess and I don’t think it’s salvageable at this point. I hate the feelings the end of a relationship bring- the unease, the discomfort, the utter sadness. I have worked my absolute hardest to cobble this relationship together across the miles, and I can’t do it alone. I shouldn’t have to do it alone. The hardest part of saying goodbye is the back sliding. The ‘okay, it’s over, no more contact’ is soon followed by a text message, and then communication starts up again, and then the vicious cycle of hurt-disappointment-anger-sadness continues again.
I’m going to try to get off this merry-go-round. One more time.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Today, I sent off K’s birthday present to Papua New Guinea. His birthday isn't until July, but I wanted to give postal officials plenty of time to deliver it.
Work has been brutal the past two weeks. I’m a social worker and when I did clinical social work, the term ‘brutal’ would have been used to describe gut-wrenching situations or devastating circumstances. Now that I’m in academia, the term brutal is used to describe any of the following conditions:
• working with people that have egos bigger than fucking Saturn
• being managed by someone who regularly plagiarizes your ideas
• conducting site visits in rural Missouri and being evacuated due to tornados
The past two weeks were all of the above. As a social worker, I’ve been in some serious ‘what-the-fuck’ situations. Typically, those situations come as a result of mental or cognitive disabilities. In academia, I’m not really sure why the fuck people do the stupid shit they do. Anyways, it’s been a rough two weeks and I can cross ‘almost died in a Baptist church basement in the middle of Missouri with a Jack Russell terrier, twenty preschoolers and two chain smokers’ off of my bucket list. When I got home yesterday from my site visits, I was happy to have K’s birthday present preparation serve as a distraction. And no, I didn't really send Alex Warra to PNG.
K is a fun person to shop for, because he appreciates any gift. He told me once that he never got a gift for his birthday when he was little. And it wasn’t because his family was poor, but because it’s just not done in his culture. Imagine that combined with ‘gift giving’ being my language of love and you know there are a few hurt feelings occasionally. K likes to read and new books are hard to come by in PNG, so I go to bookstores and spend time finding books I’ll know he’ll like. It makes me feel good, selecting what he likes, knowing he’ll soon be reading it, and I smile when I think of him holding a book that I bought him and sent to him. Along with his books, I sent him some t-shirts, baseball hats, DVDs, some American candy (PopRocks!), GIS computer software, and a few other little things. I also included some gifts for his family that he can pass on to them. I’m trying very hard to win the title of Best Auntie and that requires bribery and gifts.
I miss K. A dozen times a day I realize he’s not here. I still miss him and even though he left almost a year ago, the missing-my-best-friend feeling hasn’t diminished.
Work has been brutal the past two weeks. I’m a social worker and when I did clinical social work, the term ‘brutal’ would have been used to describe gut-wrenching situations or devastating circumstances. Now that I’m in academia, the term brutal is used to describe any of the following conditions:
• working with people that have egos bigger than fucking Saturn
• being managed by someone who regularly plagiarizes your ideas
• conducting site visits in rural Missouri and being evacuated due to tornados
The past two weeks were all of the above. As a social worker, I’ve been in some serious ‘what-the-fuck’ situations. Typically, those situations come as a result of mental or cognitive disabilities. In academia, I’m not really sure why the fuck people do the stupid shit they do. Anyways, it’s been a rough two weeks and I can cross ‘almost died in a Baptist church basement in the middle of Missouri with a Jack Russell terrier, twenty preschoolers and two chain smokers’ off of my bucket list. When I got home yesterday from my site visits, I was happy to have K’s birthday present preparation serve as a distraction. And no, I didn't really send Alex Warra to PNG.
K is a fun person to shop for, because he appreciates any gift. He told me once that he never got a gift for his birthday when he was little. And it wasn’t because his family was poor, but because it’s just not done in his culture. Imagine that combined with ‘gift giving’ being my language of love and you know there are a few hurt feelings occasionally. K likes to read and new books are hard to come by in PNG, so I go to bookstores and spend time finding books I’ll know he’ll like. It makes me feel good, selecting what he likes, knowing he’ll soon be reading it, and I smile when I think of him holding a book that I bought him and sent to him. Along with his books, I sent him some t-shirts, baseball hats, DVDs, some American candy (PopRocks!), GIS computer software, and a few other little things. I also included some gifts for his family that he can pass on to them. I’m trying very hard to win the title of Best Auntie and that requires bribery and gifts.
I miss K. A dozen times a day I realize he’s not here. I still miss him and even though he left almost a year ago, the missing-my-best-friend feeling hasn’t diminished.
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