Frustration

I've stressed the over the past few weeks about finding a therapist.  Friday, I finally did the work and found someone who will take my insurance, had the right specializations,  had an approach that sounded like it fit me and looked friendly.

I tried calling Friday and this morning, but the phone consistently went to voicemail.  Keep in mind that this is a practice with several counselors and clearly has a front desk.

I tried the email form on their site this morning.  Within minutes I get a response.

"We do not currently have anyone with openings in our office."

Even though on their website and my insurance website they indicated that she had openings for new clients.

I do not need this shit.

I emailed another one, we'll see what happens.

Acceptance

I've struggled over the past few days to describe my feelings about therapy.  I know I haven't expressed myself well, from the reaction I get from people.

They keep making points that I am not arguing with.

I guess I wasn't real sure what was my issue was either.

After chatting with a friend yesterday, I feel that maybe I can articulate this better.  God I hope so.

I know I need help.  I know I can't do this on my own.  I know that I've been through a trauma.  And I know that I have issues that pre-date that trauma.  All of these are good reasons to talk to a professional.

But the thought of it sends me into a panic.  It makes me angry and scared.

Here's why.  If this is to work, I'm going to have to accept some things.

I'm going to have to accept that:

She left, she's gone and I'm alone and I'll never really understand why.
I was far from perfect and played a role in this failing.
I'm now a single dad and anything that happens around here is on me.  Me only and no one else.
I have a responsibility to take care of myself.
I'm responsible for for my own happiness and no one else is.
I will have to deal with my own issues about self worth and cannot avoid that by transferring those issues to work, friends or family.
That I may be alone for some time.
That I may never have the kind of relationship that I've always coveted.
That this may just be as good as it gets.

It is amazing that I know all of these things, with out really accepting them.

And that is what scares me.

I hate those things.  I resist accepting them on many levels.  And if I don't want to miserable forever, I'm going to have to accept them.

And that is work.

Amazingly, a large part of me would be willing to be miserable just to avoid those truths.

But this is what I have to do.

And I am angry about it.  I've worked hard over the years to make improvements to myself and my situation and yet here I am.  The utter unfairness of it pisses me off.  (In spite of my own opinions about fairness in general.)

So I'll make the call tomorrow.

And then... well I don't really know.

But I can't live like this any more.  I can't stand the constant exhaustion, the feelings of despair, the fragility, any of it.

So I guess I need to accept some shit.  And since i don't really know how to do that, I'm going to need some help.

And I'm scared.

Resigned

I'm sitting here at work feeling drained and unproductive.

I seem to remember that when things got me down, that I would throw myself into my work.  Now, that doesn't seem to be working for me.

This last week, these last ten weeks, have taken so much out of me.

I lack energy, I lack drive and I lack focus.

Everyone, and I mean everyone is telling me I need to talk to some one, professionally.  Therapy.  They are, of course, right about that.

I have done some googling and have a name and number of someone who seems good.  But making that call terrifies me.

I need the help, but that has to include some serious here is what is wrong with you, you have to fix it.  Stop this.  Start that.  Get a fucking hobby.  I don't know.  I'm scared.

Sitting on desk right now, is a Writ of Summons to respond to the Complaint for Absolute Divorce.  I have to figure out exactly what that means, but a quick google on that says, maybe I don't have to do anything.  And this fucker just plays itself out.

I hate being here.  I hate that I am alone.

Yes I have a son, yes he lives with me.  I don't even want to think about what it would look like if that wasn't the case.

I've tried to build a life with some one.  Twice.  Married the first time in 1999.  18 years ago.  No life built.  I was 27 years old.  I was young.  Now I'm middle aged.  Professionally, I've come a very long way.  Personally, I've gone backwards, somehow.

So, yeah, talk to someone.  They can't give me 18 years back.  They can't erase the failure.  They may point out that maybe I'm the problem here.  That I need to be better.  That I'm a fuck up.  Oh, they say it nicer than that.  But that's going to be the theme.  When I was a teenager and a young adult, I went to some sort of therapist.  And maybe I'm remembering it wrong.  But I feel like that was always where it went.  "Your choices have created these issues."  Thanks.  I got that.  Make better choices, why didn't I think of that.

Okay.. it probably won't be that bad.

But still.  It scares me.  It depresses me that I can't just, you know, move on.  I need someone to give the advice that I already know.

Do something for jeckles.  Focus on yourself.  Quit drinking yourself to sleep.

I truly don't see how hearing that from someone else, is going to make these thinks make more sense to me.

I know, I'm stubborn.  And proud.  No, I'm not worried about any stigma.  It is 20 fucking 17.  I get it.

I just don't like that is me.  I don't like that none of this gets fixed.  I have to accept shit and be mindful and present.  Or whatever the hell they say these days.

I'll make the fucking call.  I'll go and spend money I can't afford on this.  But I have no faith that it will do a damn thing.  But I don't know what else to do, so I'll do it.  I hope I'm wrong.

Fear and Loathing

I'm not okay.

I've spent the last month trying to convince myself that I was.  Pretending that I was.

I'm not.

My day to day level of  'okay' is paper thin and fragile.

I've never been great at coping.  Now, I'm fucking incapable of it.  I hate being this fragile.

Any little thing throws me.  I'm 'okay' to train wreck in sixty seconds.

My new friend... my date... isn't ready for whatever.  That was a rejection.  I re-lived all of the emotions of that cunt... my second wife... leaving me when I got that news.

Yeah, I know, I'm not ready either.  Yeah, I know, at least she is being up front and honest.

That's not the point.

She sent me a message two hours before our date telling me that.  And giving me the out to not still see her if  I didn't want to.  I saw her anyway.  She had the time of our date incorrect.  Which left me at a bar, by myself and stressing over this.  I think you see how this goes.

That little disappointment ruined me.  I embarrassed myself in front of her.  And if she had any sense, she would walk away from me.

She didn't.  And I'm grateful.  All of the emotional relationship bullshit, I really don't know how it will go.  Or how it should.  But I think she's a real friend.  And she's not saying no to anything more, just taking it slow.  Which again, objectively is how it should go.

I just want to be okay again.  I thought I was more okay than this.  And if you are bothering to read this, let me be as clear as I can, this is not about me being over invested in this first women who has bothered to be nice to me.  This is about my inability to sort my own emotions about anything.

I just want to curl up in a corner and cry.  I'm 45 years old and have not been able to build a life for myself.  I'm a shell of a person and I don't know how to be anything different than that.

And I can't even blame my soon to be ex-wife for that.  Part of why she left (the part that isn't the fact that she is a sociopath), is that she found it unfulfilling or something to live with a shell of a person.  I mean, that's supposition on my part, she didn't tell me shit.  But I think that is what it comes down to.

And all her leaving has done is to have exposed all that and left it raw.

I don't know how to fix that.

I don't even know where to start.

And don't fucking tell me to do shit for myself.  I don't know how.  I haven't done anything for myself in years.  I don't like me very much.  Saying that will inspire all of the helpful people to say, no one else can get close to you if you don't like yourself.

To which I say, no shit.  I get that.  But here I am, destined to be alone, because I can't resolve my own shit.

Honestly, I liked all this better when it was all her fault.

But to blame her for my sorry state is incorrect and not getting to the point of the matter.

I've told people that I can't remember the last fight we had.  Over the last week or two, I remembered.  I don't remember what the fuck she was yelling at me about, but something came up about how can I not take care of myself, drinking too much, smoking, being fat, burning myself out at work, whatever.  I responded in the heat of the moment with, why the fuck would I even bother to take care of myself, I'm not worth it.  And she said, I had no idea you hated yourself that much.

I thought at the time, that maybe her understanding that about me, would help her to have some empathy.  I think, now, that may have been the exact moment she decided to leave.

I'm tired.  I'm sick of being tired.

reality

I'm struggling to come to grips with how this reality is supposed to work.

Some stuff is simple enough to work out, go to work, cook dinner for the boy and myself, keep the place reasonable well put together.  Beyond that it gets fuzzy. There are things I think I should do.  I've mentioned those kind of things before.  They seem like things that should happen, but I kind of don't want to.

When I think about them in the abstract, they sound like good things to work on.  When it is time to actually do, I feel like no, not today.  I'm really not sure why.

I've known that the divorce has been filed, but I also knew I'd get no updates.  So, I've been checking the online court docket.  Today it showed up.  I looked at it.  Looked at the details.  And nothing.  Isn't that interesting.  I guess I'll be getting a summons at some point.  There was no emotional reaction at all.

I wonder about that too.  I don't miss her.  There are moments when I see something or read something and I reflexively think, I should tell her about... oh, yeah.  Fuck.  But there is no emotional reaction, just a little disappointment that this reflex still fires.  Did I care less about her than I thought?  Did I like the idea of it, more than the person?  If that is true.  Shame on me.  No wonder she was unhappy.  Or did the way she did this, burn those emotions right out of me?  I don't know.

But I don't miss her.  I don't like the empty spaces, but just because they are empty.  Maybe, at this point, I've just purged those emotions for my own self preservation.

Reality is hard.  It will not be denied.  Life marches on with or with you.  I'm trying to keep up, but I'm far from in step with it.

I have a date next week.  Now that is fucking real.  Some of you will perhaps think something like, dude, you are not ready to date.  Well, I'd argue that isn't quite accurate. I'm not ready to fall in love and try for happily ever after for the fourth time.  I don't know if I'll ever be ready for that.

But I'm sick of sitting in these empty spaces.  Working, taking care of my home, taking care of the kid.  And honestly, the last two, don't need that much from me.  That's a hollow life.  Some will say, go and do what jeckles wants to do.  I refer you to the first part of this post.  That isn't working for me.

So I have this date.  I didn't seek it out.  I've had a profile on the damned dating app, but all I've done with that is look at profiles and wonder, how did they get here, are they as happy as they claim, how the fuck does someone afford to travel to a different damned country every year?  I guess, for me, it has been online people watching, of a sort.

But Sunday, I received a message.  I've received a few, from people in far flung places who want to know if I will love them and respect forever.  If I understand the scam, they will hint that they might be able to become geographically closer, but they need help with money.  No thanks.

But on Sunday, this was just a question.  Followed by answer.  And then a comment and a reply.  And so it went Sunday, then Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday.  Gradually, more personal information was gathered.  More insight.  And I realized, that I was enjoying the conversation.  It wasn't forced or contrived.

Does this girl seem to have some issues.  Yeah.  So does this guy.  Do I think we are in a similar place, yeah, I kinda do.  Could be a dead wrong and this is a bad idea, oh hell yeah.

But I decided I had nothing to lose, and suggested that maybe we should see if we actually liked each other as real people, in real life, in person.  She gave a me a maybe.  Asked some more pointed questions were mixed in to the now normal banter.  And then, Thursday, she suggested a place (happy hour) and a time (next Thursday.)  And I said, lets do that.

And then it was real.  Holy shit.  Very real.  I'm trying to take it in stride.  Just drinks and seeing if we like each other.  In real life.  And if we do, I'm not real sure.  I suspect that we both have an immediate and pressing goal in mind.  And I'm a guy, so I don't think I'll say no to that, unless there are blazing red flags everywhere.  But, after that?

I have no idea.  I think I can't have too many friends.  I think it is nice to have some attention paid to me.  Maybe there is a version of that, that actually works.  Maybe not.  But as the young folks say (or at least they used to, I have a hard time keeping up), shit just got real.

But I think the biggest upside may be this:  For the last 24 hours or so, my thoughts have been about what's going to happen, will she be who I think she is, will she like me, will it be fun or awkward or both?  Which is a nice change from why did this shit happen to me, what am I going to do, how do I fucking just get by?

It really is a nice change.

Life

I have nothing new to report.  No emotional swings, no new revelations, no new insights.

I feel mostly like myself, I do whatever it is I do.

It is fine.  It is not awesome.  It is not terrible.  It is just life.

And settling back into that is, I guess, a good thing.  Just life, different, but the same.

That is all.

Broken

It occurs to me that I'm never going to cry over this.  Not really.  Nothing more than getting a little choked up.

And trust me, it not because I am some stoic tough guy.

I'm perfectly capable of crying.  And the older I get, the more it happens.  Sappy commercials, yeah they get me.  The part of any show when the day has been saved and who ever is sees who ever again.  The beginning of a football game, seeing those players standing there amped with adrenaline and emotion waiting to go out and play while the National Anthem plays.  Those things make me misty.

And boy, when my childhood comic book heroes come to life on the big screen... and the scene feels like what I've been reading in the books all of my life, the tears just stream down my face.  When Captain America calls all of the Avengers together for the first time and gives them instructions, waterworks.  When he finishes with the line, Hulk smash, I'm no good.  I'm getting a little misty just remembering it.

And don't get me started on Star Wars.  I will lose my shit in the theater the first time they show Princess Leia on the screen in this next movie.

My wife leaving me.  Nothing.

I have a theory on this.  When bad things happen, I don't cry or I don't let myself.  So my body/heart/whatever compensates by letting it out on other safer emotional moments.

I'm kinda broken that way.

With a post title like broken, you were expecting something a little more depressing... weren't you?  I'm not in the mood for depressing right now.

I'm actually in a very strange mood.  Yeah, I'm tired, drained and all that shit.  But I feel some sort of  energy.  Perhaps it is the manic side to this depression.  But I really don't care.  I haven't had this kind of energy in 7 weeks.

I really don't know how to describe it.  I mean I really don't... I've just written and deleted a paragraph trying several times now.  I give up.

It's Friday, tonight makes seven weeks, I'm alone this weekend and I have no plans.  And I don't give a shit.

Go figure.

Motivation

Yesterday after work, I ran with the group that is doing a running a challenge at work.  I've done this for the last four Wednesdays.  Yesterday, I was the best run I've had since... well you know.

Before she left, I was running two or three times a week, doing between 4 and 5 miles a run.  She left and I didn't have the will to run anymore.  But I did the Wednesday night run, because it was partially my idea, and I felt committed.  In retrospect, a running challenge in the middle of the summer was a bad idea.  Trying to run in 90 degree heat is hard for anyone.  The first 2 weeks, I walked more than I ran around the 2.4 mile loop.  Last week I did better, but still nowhere near where I'd like to be.

This week, I ran the whole loop.  Well, 2.2 miles of it with a cool down at the end.  I had an average pace of 13.25 min/mile.  It felt good.

I went home.  And was alone.  My son is with his mom until Sunday.  It had starting raining, so I turned on the TV and binge watched whatever.  And carbo-loaded on frozen burritos, ramen and popcorn.  Netflix, with its start the next episode thing, is bad for me.  I want to know what happens next almost I much I enjoy the story I'm watching.  I binged until after midnight.  It took me an hour or so to fall asleep after that.

It seems that without a wife (or a cat) to gives me cues, I don't know when it is bedtime.  I guess that this comes from being in relationships for the last two decades.  Anytime my wife or girlfriend was away, it was an excuse to stay up late, maybe watch something that they didn't care for, maybe hang out with a buddy.  I'm going to have figure out bed time.  I know it shouldn't be that hard, but as a life long insomniac, it is challenge.

I know what I want to do, at least the small things in the short term.  But finding the motivation to do it, is hard.

I think I'm going to buy a new suit this weekend.  I've needed an upgrade.  The synthetic off the rack one I own now, does not present who I want to be right now.  It works, but I want better.  I've put it off for a while now, there was always something else that needed the money.  But Nordstrom's is having a sale this week, and I think I'll be able to get a thousand dollar suit for half that.

Where did this thought come from?  It was thought of having to see her in court, that put it in my mind.  Yeah,  I want to her look at me and think, wait that's new... it looks good... he seems like he has his shit together.  And maybe, she'll see me looking good and feel some regret.  I'd like her to feel a lot of regret.

But that is not the only reason.  Like I said, I've got use for this professionally.  I have a very important event coming up in October that I'd like to really be sharp for.  And I've long believed in the whole dress for success thing.  Taking the effort to dress up, puts me in a good mindset to be my best.  And if a new suit puts me in the mindset to survive a divorce hearing, I guess that's worth even more than maybe causing her regret.

Besides, I need to have and do things that are new.  That aren't what I have always been doing, only lonelier.

Also on my list.  Vacuum and clean the faux hardwood floors.  Once I do that, I can put a yoga mat down and leave it there.  So that I can do a full yoga routine, or just a few sun salutations.  This will help with the running, I need to be able to loosen my hips and hamstrings in between runs.  I have not been able to that before.  (Leave the mat out, that is.)  The cat would have made short work of the mat.

There are more, little things like that.  And some bigger ones.  Smoking.  Drinking.  I hate the fact that I smoke.  I hate that I am help captive by the addictive chemical cocktail that Big Tobacco has worked so hard to perfect.

But, I'm barely keeping it together as it is.  Would adding nicotine withdrawal to the mix, put me over the edge.  I don't know.

My world is upside down.  Nothing feels right anymore.  I can't put it back to the way it was.  So I guess I need to figure out what that world will look like when I turn it right side up again.

There are moments, where I am tempted to double down on every stupid thing I do.  Why not, I've got no one to impress.  I've got no one to judge me.  Maybe I should just be the cantankerous old bastard who drinks and smokes and doesn't give a shit what anyone says.

But more often than that, I want to be the guy who runs, does yoga and works out.  Who cares about his appearance.  Who is getting better in every way.  That's what I wanted before she left.  I see now, that some of my challenge  before was the absolute lack of support from her.

I started running last summer.  I'd never run more than 10 minutes on a treadmill before that.  She asked to join me.  We ran together in the morning, through the end of the summer and into November until the weather got too cold.  We ran four 5K's together.  In the spring when I was trying to get back into it, she wasn't interested.  Eventually I started running with out her.

After my runs, she'd give me the whole I'm proud of you, good job thing.  But a certain moment sticks out my head.  In April, I had pushed a little too hard, and banged up my knee.  Nothing serious, but I did have to take a week or so off from running.  While hanging out with friends, my buddy asked me if was I still running.  I told him yes, but I had to take a week off.  She added, with some serious tone in her voice, yeah... he thinks he can run five miles.

That's what she really thought.  Not, good job, honey!  But, you stupid asshole, pretending that you can do this.

She may have said the right things, most of the time.  But I think I felt what she was holding back.  I didn't understand it, but it demotivated me.

I can't stress how important the running is to me.  I chose to do that very strategically.  If I'm running and getting better and want to do even better... then quitting smoking makes senses.  If I'm planning on running at 5:30 AM the next day, I have a reason not to imbibe.  The running itself is one of the few times that I'm not thinking about everything.  I'm just doing.

So fuck her for not seeing that.  And fuck her for not caring or believing in me.

She's gone now, so that particular problem is no more.  But, I don't know what my motivation is right now.

But I am working on it.

Roller Coaster

I'm tired.

This weekend I felt better.  I felt a little bit like me.  Monday, I received the communication from the lawyer.

The realization that she was still close by (I really had assumed that she would put some distance between us) hit me hard.  I spent way too much time Tuesday re-applying my Google-fu towards locating her.

I think I found a PO Box number that is her's.  I figured out what post office it resides in.  I also figured out how to find her address, once her voter registration is updated.

After work, I drove to that post office and parked nearby.  I waited there for an hour to see if she'd stop by and get her mail.  She did not.

I'm an idiot.  That exercise did nothing to make me feel better.  And did everything to anchor me to grief and shock of what has happened.

The ups and downs of my emotions are getting to me.  The lack of appetite and lack of sleep are getting to me.  I've lost over 15 pounds since she left.  I'm happy the flubber is gone, but I'm pretty sure the rate of weight loss is draining me.

All of my friends are married, and most of them have young kids.  There is only so much time that have for me.  And besides, hanging out with people who clearly love and respect each other wears on me too.  It makes me angry at myself that I have never been able to achieve that.

It makes me angry that I've spent more than the better part of the last twenty years with women who didn't feel that way about me.

I'm afraid of what comes next.  I'm afraid that it will be more of the same, that this is my destiny.  I'm afraid I'll never really settle into myself.  I'm afraid that my kid will grow up and leave and go live his life, and I'll be all alone.

The common thread to all of this shit is me.  I am extremely concerned that I simply am not good enough.

I'm just having a hard time adjusting to this new reality.  Most of the time, I don't even miss her.  But, the not knowing about so many things bothers me.  I haven't really been single in 20 years.  I know that the wrong thing to do would be to jump in to a long term relationship with the fist person I click with, but I was 25 last time I was single.  And honestly, I was no good at that then.

I'm a totally different person than that young man.  I have no model for how this should go.  I don't know what it looks like.  Everyone tells me that I need focus on me, and what's good for me, and what I want.  But I don't know what I want.  I thought I knew who I was and what I wanted, but now... not so much.  Even the things that have nothing to do with her no longer seem familiar.  I'm a stranger in my own life.

In the mean time, I ride up and down on an emotional roller coaster.  I want to get off, but I don't know how.

Betrayal

She filed for divorce yesterday.

That's not shocking, we all knew that was coming.

Her lawyer forwarded me a copy of the complaint, as a courtesy.

There are two things about the complaint, that I found interesting, for the lack of a better word.

Her address is not listed.  Instead, it is c/o the lawyer.  But in the text of the document it states that she is a resident of the county I live in.

She left me, she quit her job, she ghosted on our friends.  Why does she still live here.  I mean right here.  This is one of the most expensive places to live in Maryland.  Why not move somewhere more affordable.  You could do that and still be in the greater Baltimore area.  You could do that easily.

And why is she still be so secretive.  It's been over 6 weeks.  I signed the papers.  Is she scared that I'd show up... and do what?  Yell?  Plead?  I signed the papers.  Or is she hiding something?

I'm am beginning to believe that there is only one answer to both of those questions.

I think she left me for someone else.

How could that be without me being aware?  I have a hard time coming up with an answer to that.

But, I'm starting to see how it could have happened.  I couldn't guess how or where it would have started, but it would have been sometime in March, maybe April.  That is when, as I reflect on it, she really starting pulling away.

There were some long shopping trips she took.  Gone for hours.  It seemed like a long time to me, but I didn't think anything of it, I'm told girls like to shop.

There was a weekend trip in early May to go bird watching in western Maryland.  Just her, some "me" time.

I told you in the first post that she rarely slept in the same bed as me.  Most nights, we went to bed together, I fell asleep and when I woke up she was wasn't there.  Her and her cat would be in the guest bedroom.  A few nights I woke up in the middle of the night, to find the cat in bed with me.  It's possible that she could have left for a bit and the cat got lonely.  Also, what woke me up in the middle of the night?

There was the time frame where she must have already quit her job and was still "going to work."  And was getting home later, some days.  Overtime... I was told.

There was the time in May that she went and got her self fitted for new bras.  A work one and a "fun" one.

There was the period of time in May and in to June that she wouldn't take her shirt off in front of me.  During that time, we had sex and she kept her shirt on.  Usually she liked it when I gave attention to her boobs.  She didn't want me to touch them. Or even see them.

During that time, I noticed bruises on her boobs.  Must be the new bra she said.

The last time we had sex, two weeks before she left me, felt like go through the motions.  I knew she wasn't in to it.

Maybe, I'm seeing things that aren't real.  Maybe I'm connecting the wrong dots.  But it would answer a whole lot of questions.

The funny thing is, it doesn't change anything.  I just want to know, so I can stop replaying it all in my head.

The lawyer gave the option to have the Complaint served to me by mail or by process server.

Mail would be easier.  But I'm leaning towards making her pay for a process server.  Just to make her pay for it.  What do you guys think?