I now have "people"

I went to see a lawyer today. Interesting, to say the least. I couldn't get over how matter-of-fact they were about everyting. Its almost like they see divorcing people everyday. Then it ocurred to me...

As I sat there pouring my heart out to two complete (female) strangers, it struck me as odd how difficult it was to put in to terms why I left. I've been struggling with this off and on now for the last month. How do you tell someone you just don't like a person any more. It seems so petty and childish. Like I should say "nanny nanny boo boo" after it.

However, they seemed to get it (they being the paralegal and the attorney). I heard their respective stories about clients or their own personal divorce and they seemed like mine, just different. I guess in some ways its comforting to hear another's story, and, in some way, it makes me sad that I've become 'one of them'.

I never thought I be divorced. I mean, I dreamed up it for a long time but I never thought I'd actually leave. Let alone have a divorce lawyer.

Bring on the pain

I have the week off so I took the opportunity to stay with my son today. I also took the opportunity to respond to a letter my wife had written me. It was essentially a list of things she had 'failed' to do in our marriage. She had gift wrapped it and given it to me on Christmas eve. All along (this past month) I've been operating under the guise that I could provide her some normalcy during the holidays by not making too many changes.

I've tried to insulate her from my comings and goings, moving into the apartment, address changes, etc. I would also show up every morning to take my son to school. The idea being her schedule wouldn't have to change and neither would his. However, I'm thinking all this was a mistake. I won't bother giving details as to why I think this but, obviously, I was giving mixed signals.

That ended today. When I responded I laid things out very clearly that I was moving forward with the separation, that we should both get lawyers, how I wanted to work the finances, my prefered schedule with my son, etc. This was all in the hopes that she would get the picture. I'm so afraid of being hurtful and ruining our ability to be 'friendly if not friends' in front of our son, that I may have gone too far the other way.

I have an appointment with a lawyer in the morning. I will be as honest about everything as I can in hopes that she will better represent me. I asked the wife that she consider the fact that she knows what I make, and what I'm able to give, and that she chooses a past which is least costly in both financial and emotional terms.

I hope she does...

I hesitate to write this but, I need to tell someone. It also appears that my doctor called the house and left a message that one of the dosages of my medication needs to be changed based on the recent visit. I have it on pretty good authority that she purposefully didn't give me this message in an effort to...teach me a lesson, I guess.

In a way its completely forgivable because she's hurting and we don't make clear decisions when we hurt. But, this isn't a car payment or a message from a friend. This is a medical issue. She doesn't know what I take or why I take it and, as far as she knows, this is something to control my blood pressure or who knows what. Not to mention the fact that of all my 'issues' my health is by far the largest concern I have. To use that against me, in any way, no matter how small, seems unforgivable.

On that point, and I hope you'll understand this, I'd rather not receive any comments. I'm fully aware of the gambit of responses that could be given and I don't want to assign malice where there is none. I just needed to get it out there.

Thanks for listening.

Merry Christmas

That is all.

Mr. Clean tries to kill me

I was in the process of taking a shower (and for anyone else with compulsive tendencies, you know what I mean by process). I had just gotten to step 8 in the process. This comes after rinsing my hair and before turning the water off. This is basically the step were I stand under the shower and just waste water. Yeah, I said it, waste water.

Anyway. All of a sudden I get this odd taste in my mouth. Its something between Mr. Clean and lemon-aide. This, to say the least, was quite 'disconcerting'. For those who are unfamiliar with the less common usage of this word, the Oxford dictionary defines it as:

disconcerting |ˌdiskənˈsərti ng | adjective causing one to feel unsettled

There is also a little known usage:

disconcerting |ˌdiskənˈsərti ng | adjective causing one to freak the f&^k out

Turns out, this is the one I used. I'm not quite sure what I was thinking the cause of this could be. OK, I know exactly what I was thinking. Stroke. How I came to this conclusion
is quite simple. In medical school (read: Google) we learned the following:

• If its in your chest, its a heart attack
• If its lumpy, its cancer
• Anything else is a stroke

Its pretty basic stuff, really. So, when I had the odd taste I ran through the above checklist and, ta daaaa! Stroke. So, for at least 3 seconds I went through the standard checklist of things you can't possibly do when you have a stroke:

• Smile
• Move your fingers
• Move your toes
• Roll your eyes
• Say your name

having passed all of these tests I went about my way drying off. Once I walked out of the bathroom I saw the bottle I had used on my bike ride this morning half-full of lemon-aide flavored... Hmmm, coincidence? Could be.

And the drama begins

I've debated seriously for some time about posting this. Even as I type it I keep telling myself that I will most likely delete it before its posted. I really fear many of you will lose respect for me even though, personally, I am happier each day about the decision. So, here goes.

I've met someone.

Wow, that was a little scary to type. The someone is a friend of mine that was helpful in making decisions lately. She is pretty much the same age, same socioeconomic (yeah, check that word out!) status, and is divorced with two children who are roughly the same age as my son. I feel the need to go back and state this for my benefit and yours. We in no way, neither expressed nor implied, had anything other than a platonic friendship before I left my wife. I can't stress this enough.

I think the reason I can't stress this enough is because, in a way, I'm trying to convince myself that I didn't leave my wife for another woman. I've said it before, I know I left her for "somebody" but, even now, I'm content in knowing that I didn't leave for a specific person. However, I think I might have left her for someone like this.

Now, before you fire up your keyboards telling me about rebounds, about how soon it is, about how I don't really know what I want, let me say that I know. I know all of that. I'm aware that this has little chance of working out in the long run. But, in some way, I know that this, whatever it is, feels really right.

Besides the boost in ego that I might actually be capable of loving and being loved again, there's something to be said for not being lonely while your...well...lonely. All the advice I get says that I should 'take some time to figure out who I am' which sounds good, but, in reality I don't understand. I mean, I know who I am, it says so on my license. So lets assume they mean so I can figure out what I really want.

That's easy. To be happy. This person is making me very happy.

Maybe it is too soon. Maybe I'm putting myself in danger of a difficult divorce if the wife finds out. Maybe I will just end up hurting myself and this person. But, the whole reason I left was because I believed (and still believe) that taking a chance on finding someone new was worth leaving my life as I know it. I just didn't expect to meet someone so soon or that that person might be someone I already knew.

Life has a funny way of working out. Of course, it also has a funny way of crashing in fiery balls of death. This could get interesting...

How would I know when to panic?

I just had to link this one

MONTREAL — A 65-year-old Quebec man who received a new long-term mechanical heart last month is being described as the only living Canadian without a pulse.

Touche, Lacy, touche

I was schooled on the fact that I had been derelict in my duties as a reciprocal commenter on others' blogs. So, to your quid pro quo I say, "mea culpa". I immediately went comment crazy on some blogs and the karma kicked in yesterday. Anywho.

This weekend was a little rough. The parents came in and stayed at the house with the wife. This is awkward to say the least. My mom has been great but is obviously troubled by all this. She's never been a touchy feely person but all weekend she would put her hand on on me or squeeze a shoulder, rub my cheek, or something. On a somewhat related note, I had another conversation with the wife. Nothing new to report. After our talk I hugged her and she just cried for a while.

I say these are related because I noticed an odd thing with both of them. I felt cold. There was no emotion other than the empathy you have when you see someone hurting. And, in both cases, I wanted to run. I couldn't stand the contact from my mother and I kept waiting for the hug to end with the wife.

This is not like me. I'm an affectionate person, usually. I'm sure there's some root cause to this. Maybe I'm not dealing with some issue and the contact is bringing that up and I'm panicking. I'm more than a little worried that I'll come off as cold for saying these things in public but, in reality I feel cold. And I believe in calling a spade a spade.

Right now, I'm a spade.

Where ma peeps at?

I'm lonely with so few comments lately. Not sure why considering I write this for myself but its nice to know people are out there. Of course, I see people looking at the site (I track it with Google Analytics)

Anyway, I had a bit of an episode the other day. I forgot to take my medication until very late two days in a row. That is extremely odd for me. The first day seemed like no big deal. I just took it at like 6PM (instead of my usualy 8AM) and went on about my business. The next day wasn't so easy. I remembered at 4PM and took it then. This got me. I immediately started feeling like my head was throbbing while walking up the stairs to my office. Not a good time.

I'm not sure what I was expecting to happen. Maybe I thought I was going to have a heart attack...or maybe
I was just walking up a flight of stairs. Either way, it scared me. Its the first time that's happened in a while. I've been so pre-occupied with everything else I haven't had time to worry about whether my wrist was throbbing too much or if that spot on my lip was cancer or some cereal from breakfast. Idle minds are the hypochondriacs workshop.

On the other front, things are going well. I've moved in to an apartment (the room mate moves in tomorrow) and got some furniture delivered. Its starting to feel like home. Of course, my car started to feel like home.

Maybe I have a distorted sense of home...

What is forever?

By definition, 'forever' is a long time. The idea of staying with someone or "sticking something out" forever has come up a lot recently in various aspects of my life. Right now it seems like its a little hypocritical to say I could be with someone forever. Obviously, I made that promise to someone and I broke it. At least, in a semantic way if not in practice.

The question is, can you really be expected to love someone, unconditionally, to your own detriment if necessary, forever. The question here isn't weather you can stay married forever. Its obvious that people, quite happily, spend their lives together "forever".

The question I have is, in a situation, like mine, or many others, should you stay together. Is it healthy to change who you are completely for another person? I'm not talking about picking towels up off the floor, or chewing with your mouth closed, I mean changing the essence of your being in an effort to please another person.

Should you change religions, vote Democrat when you're a Republican, endorse capital punishment when you're a pacifist, have an abortion when you're pro-life, become a recluse when you're a social person, etc.? Maybe the changes we ask of each other aren't this grand. Maybe we're never even asked to make these changes so much as believing that this is what the other person needs to be happy with me.

Forever is a funny word. When we promise it we really only mean until we die. A short time, by all accounts, but all the time we have. Its a promise not to take lightly and one, right now, I'm not certain we fully comprehend when we chose to make it.

I'm officially living in a fully functional babe lair

OK, so its not official, it definitely isn't fully functional, and the only babe will probably be my room mate's cat. But, I signed a lease on my apartment and bought a bed and will have it delivered tomorrow. This may not seem like much to most of you but I moved out of my parents' house and into the apartment with my wife. I've never lived on my own. Not really.

I'm excited and shit scared (that's a word here in the south) all at the same time. I saw the wife again today. The house is litteraly covered (OK, not litteraly...) in self-helo marriage books, little notes about how we can work it out, notes she's taken, print-outs from the Internet, all kinds of stuff. Most of it is strategically placed where I'll see it.

This was both of our M.O.'s. Passive aggression, or passive passiveness, was how we co-existed for so long. Instead of making overt gestures we relied on signs, Morse code, and semaphore to tell each other what we were thinking, feeling, or wanted. It didn't work then and, frankly, it pains me even more to see it now. This is how I know nothing has changed. The fact is if she wanted to change it would take lots of time, patience, and be organic. Not from a book about men being "spaghetti" and women being fruitcakes or something.

I admire her for trying so hard, I really do. And it warms my heart (after all these years) that she values me enough, now, to work this hard. But honestly, how long can this go on? How long until the post-its disappear, before the books get put on a shelf, before the nice comments stop coming...?

Is it worth going through this all over again? Is it worth living in fear of going through this all over again? So far, the answer is no.

Gee that's tiny

I got an apartment today. That's a big step for me. I've never lived on my own. I'm getting a room mate but that's still different. This is a little nerve-racking. I think as much as I've felt that my wife isn't dealing with our separation, I've begun to realize that I haven't been either.

I'm many ways my life hasn't changed. I still go to work, class, out with friends, to see my son, etc. Even though I'm sleeping in a different place it just hasn't quite sunk in that I've really left. In some ways I've been thinking about doing this for years and now its finally happened. I think I'm almost as shocked at myself as she was.

Anyway. I'm about to get some vulture shock. Moving from a 3100 square foot house to a 1000 square foot apartment with a room mate is gonna be a big change. I still think I'm up to it but, we shall see.

I get the workup

Today was my 6 month doctor's appointment. As you may have read previously I usually freak the f&^k out at least 1 week before this day. The pattern is something like this:

7 days out:

My calendar notifies me with Darth Vader's theme song. I panic a little but take solace in the fact that I could die before the appointment. Here's hoping!!!


6 Days out:

I get butterflies. And by butterflies I mean queasy. And by queasy I mean sick.

5 days out:

I start thinking of ways to cancel and still get my meds.

4 days out:

Oh my god oh my god oh my god

3 days out:

I get all my afairs in order

2 days out:

Praying, lots of praying. And alcohol. You'd think these would be mutually exclusive but desperate times call for desperate measures.

1 day out:

It can only be described as the sensation you might feel if confronted by a three headed dragon while standing naked in front of a crowd of strangers, giving a speech on nuclear physics.


But, today wasn't so bad. I got there early, got right in, checked the BP (130/60...weird but good I guess.) I also ended up getting the super-d-duper cholesterol test again and an EKG. Normally all of this would have given me a panic attack but it was OK. I'm assuming its because I have bigger fish to fry. We'll see if it lasts.

At some point I will get my test results back and then, look out!

Out, damn spot!

It finally sunk in today. The people I'm staying with said I can only stay another week. This, in and of itself, is no problem. I completely understand that you don't want a guy living in your guest room for weeks on end. The hard part is that I have nowhere to go.

Not in the sense that I'll sleep on the street or can't afford an apartment, that's not the case at all. I have plenty of friends and enough money. No, I mean that at this point in my life, I have no home. This was expected, of course. I knew on some level i'd have to get my own place and move stuff and do all the things grown ups do when they make grown up decisions.

Its just that all at once I became fully aware of the gravity of the situation. I think somehow this past week has been like a slumber party. Just hanging out with friends, laughing, watching TV, eating, whatever. At some point though, I have to be alone with my thoughts, with my actions, and with the repercussions. That's a daunting thought.

I think I've lined up a room mate which will be helpful but in a way I think that's just a way to keep from having to be alone. Maybe I'll find my own place. Maybe it would be good to be alone for a while. I'm not even sure I know who I am at this point. Maybe I can find myself in a 1 bedroom efficiency overlooking a parking lot.

Ouch

"The greatest griefs are those we cause ourselves."
Sophocles (496 BC - 406 BC), Oedipus Rex

I just got back from my wife's house. That's sounds odd just saying it. Funny thing is, my mom was there. I may not have ever mentioned it but my parents live 3 hours away and my wife has never thought that was far enough. My parents have always been a source of contention in our relationship. I'm by no means a momma's boy. As a matter of fact, we can go months without even talking. Not because we don't like each other we just don't have anything to say. Growing up, it was just me and her and I think, on some level, we had enough of each other for a while. But I digress (regress?)

I had called my mom and left a message yesterday afternoon and asked that she call me on my cell phone. I'm not sure what transpired next but somehow she talked to the wife and was told that I had left. Apparently she was in the car not much later driving down.

Today it became real. Up to now the only people that "knew" were some close friends, my wife, and her mother. Now its "out". My mom was great about not butting in except to ask the questions she should be asking.

"When and how will you see your son?"

"How can you afford to live apart?"

"Have you thought about counseling?"

These were "easy" questions. The hard one was "why is this happening?" How do you explain years of inner struggle, feeling alone even when you're in the same room with someone, resentment for someone you love dearly, etc.? Of anyone she might now. She's divorced also. But, her husband (not my dad) hit her. For her (and this isn't common) leaving him was the easy choice.

I had gone to the house to spend time with my son and to tell the wife that I was going to get separation papers. This went exactly as I had expected. Its probably the hardest she's cried yet.

I felt cold. numb. guilty.

She apologized again, said we could try different things, that like when a person dies, you don't realize how valuable life is until its gone. And then she said exactly what I was thinking. That after a while, you forget to appreciate life again and you go back to the old routine.

This is the most apt anology I have come across yet. Our friendship has died and, even though we could get it back for a time, you can't raise the dead. And you can't go home again.

Warning. This post has no plot.

I haven't sung in a long time. I'm really not that good of a singer but, in my car, I'm a god. I used to sing a lot. Maybe its a sign of happier days to come. Maybe its a sign of not wanting to sit in my car and think.

I used to be very into music. I play guitar and had aspirations to be in a band. Not that I could have, mind you, but I wanted to. Over the years I attempted it a few times but I rarely had any support to "follow my bliss" so to speak. I can't really blame her for that though. I know I made the decision to get married and support us with a good job. It'd be unfair to do otherwise.

But, even so, what would I have done otherwise? Honestly, I'm not that good. Maybe good enough to play rhythm in a good band or a studio player but I wasn't going to be Keith Richards (turns out I'm allergic to heroin and being dirty...who knew). In reality I was probably saved from years of struggling as a musician only to have my dreams crushed and spend the rest of my years jaded.

OK, so it didn't turn out all that different anyway... Just kidding. I don't expect I'll be a musician even now that things have changed (are changing). I think all the years I spent resenting not being able to play music were really just misdirected frustrations about my marital problems. I'm not a fan of the idea that all mental problems are a manifestation of some deep=seeded misery. Some people are just nuts.

I don't know that I can blame my hypochondria on her. I don't know that I should. I know that I feel better lately but, then again, I've been feeling well for quite some time. Maybe I'm just distracted. Hypochondria seems to thrive you you have nothing better to do.

And now I'm rambling.


Hey, I ain't never coming home.
Hey, I'll just wander my own road.
Hey-hey, I can't meet you here tomorrow - no, no.
Say goodbye don't follow -
Misery so hollow.

-Alice In Chains