Tag Archives: confusion

My voice within…

25 Sep

About a week ago, after several days of not eating properly, I decided to make dinner. I felt somewhat up to it. Lately, food has just been ‘meh’ for me. So I grilled myself a piece of fish and made a salad. It was tasty, but I wasn’t very hungry. But Sparky was, so I shared.

Afterward, he was restless, and who could blame him. I was being quite the mole over those past two weeks. So we left the condo for yet another mini-walk around the block.

He knows the route – out the door, to the left, down the walkway… A couple doors down, he starts to bark. Embarrassed, I apologize to the neighbor for my little “Barky”, but it wasn’t actually my neighbor, it was in fact, my ex-boyfriend, Rock. I double-take. Then, as only I can do, when faced with incredible stress, start to laugh. Not full on belly laughs, just nervous giggles. First, I was looking glamorous in my lounge pants, no makeup, hair in a bun. Second, I had major facial bruises from some novcane shots in my upper and lower jaws. And third, the shock of seeing him had me a bit freaked out.

Me: through giggles still “Why are you here?”

Rock: (Seriously, I have no idea what he said at that point). His eyes widened when he saw my face and through my final giggles, assured him it wasn’t what he thought.

All I really know is this. He looked haunted. Sad. Way too thin. He wanted answers about what changed in our relationship. I honestly didn’t know what to say. I invited him inside so we could talk – he reluctantly agreed. I offered him a drink, but he only wanted water. It felt very polite, yet impossibly awkward. I tried to explain what had been going on in my head, but even to me, it made little sense.

It doesn’t matter what our conversation was; there would be no answers that would help him. He believes I’m once again in a pattern with men. His insight is that I became bored with the hubby and rather than talk about what was wrong and working on fixing it, I simply left. And I’ve done that again with him. And apparently worse is that he doesn’t think I even know what I’m doing.

It made me stop and think. Am I really repeating the same pattern over and over? Will I change? Have I changed? I know I am complicated – I own that. And I know I’m a mess inside. I guess I’m a bit like a set of Matyroshka dolls these days, hiding many versions of myself within. Take the time to get me to open up, you’ll find another puzzle inside to solve. Point is: It’s my turn to figure me out. Plain and simple.

I know what I don’t know. But I know what I know as well. And my hope is this: my inner selves have their shit together. Each facet of me knows what we need and want. Soon, we all will.

And the little one inside… she knows what she’s doing. I trust her. She’s not just my core, she’s my soul. She is whispering to the others, reminding us what and who we are. I like her.

My inner voice is tatted and has angel wings to guide her journey...

My inner voice is tatted and has angel wings to guide her journey…

My voice within…

Don’t cry
Your tears will dry, you’ll soon be free to fly

When there’s no one else, look inside yourself
Like your oldest friend, just trust the voice within
Then you’ll find the strength that will guide your way
You’ll learn to begin to trust the voice within


He’s dating now…

5 Sep

This weekend the estranged hubby un-friended me on Facebook. I wasn’t surprised by this but it caught me off guard. Sorta.

I thought a lot about this yesterday and surmised it’s because he’s meeting new people women and didn’t want me seeing their online chit chat. Or maybe it’s because he didn’t want me drooling over his food porn.

For those of you who know me or him, we’re both foodies. And yes, his food is delicious and he plates it all perty like.

So it could have been that.

But I decided to ask him directly this morning. He told me he didn’t want to see my updates actually, but yes, he’s dating now. Not one particular lady apparently, but playing the field. These are my words – he kept it more succinct. “Yes, I’m dating.”

When I told my mother my suspicions yesterday, she tried to be objectively parental.

Mom: So how will you feel if he is dating?

Me: I don’t know, Mom. I kind of hope he is.

Mom: Why? This woman will take your place.

Me: I left my place three months ago. But that’s a good point. He won’t let me bring The Rockstar to the cabin…

Yes, crimson sheets...

Mom: Do you think he’s bringing women home and into your bed?

Me: It’s not my bed anymore Mom. I have a brand new, queen size, $1500 bed to prove it.

Mom: You know what I mean.

Me: {sigh} I think it’d be good for him to find a nice woman and laugh some.

Mom: It’s really over, isn’t it.

Me: Yes.

When I left, I decided to take one day at a time. Breathe some. Find me. Take pictures. Learn guitar. Sing again.

Yesterday afternoon, I’m sitting on my patio with The Rockstar and just relaxing. He’s teaching me how to relax. It’s so counter-intuitive to my very nature that I’m struggling with and warring against it. I’m just so used to being in perpetual motion.

I’m liking the “do nothing” concept. For now.

So I’m sitting on my patio, got my iPad on my lap, listening to Grace Potter and I decide to belt one out. Shitfuck, I’m out of tune. I need to practice more. But weirdly enough, singing in front of The Rockstar (even out of tune) didn’t make me feel self-conscious like it used to in front of other people. Hmm.

The past month and a half have been such a whirlwind of finding an apartment, moving in, buying furniture and basic household stuff that I’ve not given me any time to work on me.

And now that he’s dating, and as the colors begin to change in both of our lives, I can’t help but think as seasons change, and people with them, if you’re lucky you’ll find yourself awash in vivid colors and amidst people who fill your space with warmth. And laughter. Because, after all, without laughter, what’s the point?

I’m not crazy…

14 Jul

It’s official. Yay me!

Given my dizzy bitch behavior and recent panic attacks, all my friends and family (well, all but one) said I absolutely must get some “therapy” now that I’ve separated. It’ll help me understand the “process” and give me clarity into what I’m “feeling”.

The old me would totally scoff at that idea. I mean, I didn’t talk to any of my friends or family before I blurted out on the dance floor “I don’t want to be married…” so why would I open my head for shrinking and mind fucking now?

Well, cuz the new me is more open minded… 😉

So I made an appointment with a psychologist to evaluate the level and depth of my need for counseling. It was today. She told me she would ask questions that had nothing to do with my medical history – things like “so what prompted you to blurt that out right then?” and “have you ever said or done anything inappropriate before?”

Anyhoohaw, after talking to me for 30 minutes she said “I’m not hearing that you are upset about the separation or worried about the process… what I’m hearing is that you have anxiety and aren’t breathing. Does this sound about right to you?”

Maybe just half-insane?

She said it in this way that made me feel both relieved and understood. Leaving my husband wasn’t easy but my biggest problems right now are stemming from the stress of the last year in coming to this point.

I don’t sleep well, I’m restless, and I’m not breathing right (she says this is normal thank fucking gawd) – all contributing to symptoms that have made me feel debilitated and embarrassed to a large degree. I mean c’mon now, I hyperventilated in front of someone recently (I will NOT go into details on that one!)

So as I search for meditation classes to find some fucking zen, I can say with absolute certainty “I’m not crazy”. Well, not any more than normal.

Independence day…

4 Jul

What does it mean to have freedom? I’ve been gone 19 days now. But I’m not sure I’m independent. Not yet.

Over these last 19 days, I’ve been doing quite a bit of social buzzing. Keeping myself very busy and distracted. I’ve seen almost all of my girlfriends for drinks and am spending time with someone who has been helping me a lot. To forget a little and to be okay.

And I'll kill my own damn spiders too...

My main reason for leaving was and is pretty simple. I didn’t feel like me anymore and yet I’m not sure who I am. I know who I used to be as a teenager and who I was as a wife, but as a woman in her forties with sudden freedom, I’m finding my possibilities are pretty damned wide open. And confusing as hell. I actually have said “I want to kill my own spiders” which is ironic since I’m renting a room in someone’s house in the hills with lots of spiders.

But here’s what else: I want to learn to play the guitar. I want to renew my love of photography. I want to take yoga and I absolutely want to resume my singing. And my laughing. And most important to me is to NOT repeat the dis-empowering behaviors of my past.

Freedom comes with a price, and for now I’m paying it living in a single room with no kitchen, but as I came through my sliding glass door this afternoon, it felt like a place where I belonged.  So today being Independence Day and I live in a world now full of freedom, I can pursue any and all of the above. And still ask for help but learn to be independent.

It’s ruff ruff on the doggies…

29 Jun

I love my two Yorkshire terriers Sparticus and Buddy. When I left, it hadn’t really dawned on me that I was not just leaving the house and husband, but I was also leaving my beloved pets.

Buddy is 15 years old. That’s really old in doggie years even for a little guy. Buddy is pretty much blind and deaf now and wherever I would be in the house, that is where he’d want to be. Shaking at my feet. I think he shakes because he is confused so I’d often just pick him up and put him on my lap and carry him from room to room. Sparticus is 8 years old and totally fits his name. He races out the doggie door toward the back wire fence to bark at the deer family that lives in the creek. He totally thinks he’s super badass. He walks bow-legged even.

As of today, I’ve been out of the house for two weeks. Sort of.

A few days after I left, I made arrangements for a doggie play date so I could see them. Sparticus was overjoyed to see me and very clingy, which isn’t really his way. Buddy is just so tired all the time that he mostly slept when I was there. And I also stayed at the house last weekend when the husband went out of town. But since I was moving my things into my new place, I feel like I didn’t get to spend any quality time with either of them. As a result, every time I tried to play with Sparticus, he half-heartedly engaged and then would just sigh, walk away, and curl up on the couch cushion, looking outside the window.

He saw me packing clothes and shoes, miscellaneous kitchen things, etc and then leaving. He knows. He always knew when I was packing for a trip and I’d be gone overnight.

I know my leaving is hard on the husband, and now I know my leaving is hard on my dogs too. And while I love my dogs probably more than I love people, and miss their cute wiggly bodies jumping up on me, I’m also surprised to find that I’m sort of okay not living with them.

Or perhaps this just means I’m numb right now. We’ll see. I will say this, I’ve found that it’s nice not to be kicked by little paws during the night.