Half-Wished Dreams November 14, 2009

I dreamed last night that Ex was still alive.  We were divorced, and he was still alive.  Ex had wanted to plan a Fairy Party in a trendy store in a nearby half-trendy town.  I agreed to help Ex get more information, just like I always used to do.  I drove to the trendy store with a female acquaintance. 

We got there, and I saw a Korean friend from high school there sitting on the green, carpeted stairs that  patrons sat on to watch live music the store held at night.  He hugged me on the stairs and asked how I was.  “Fine,” I said, as tears came to my eyes.  “Nope, not fine, but I will be,” I told him.  (Ex had gone back to being dead at this point of the dream.)

After the live music played, I got up and tried to find who I believed to be the store owner.  I found her, her other manager and the band upstairs at some tables with suggestion of coke use on them.  (Having never witnessed coke use, it always appears as white dust in my dreams.)   I didn’t want to disturb the owner, so I decided to meander about the store in wait. 

When the owner and band rose from their break, they all flitted about like the butterfly scene in Alice of Wonderland when she has to catch the one with the key to get her through the next door.  It was mayhem.  Children ran around in the fuscia, carpeted lower level.  The adults travelled all three levels in various  levels of excitement.  During this time and the height of my frustration, Ex’s headless, alive self showed up from the kids’ lower level.

I finally found the owner again at a podium under the stairs on the lower level.  I spoke to her, wrote my information down, and left with a brochure about the cost of parties at the store.  I met up with the friend who had driven over with me and got in her big, dark Suburban.  As we drove to our next destination, I let Ex know by cell phone that I had gotten the information that he had wanted for the Fairy Party. 

He must have taken the contact as encouragement that our romantic relationship had not ended because he started sending me suggestive texts and photos, just like he had done in real life after we split.   The first message showed a photo of a shampoo bottle and a message about us showering together.  The next photo showed a stack of pastel, handmade soap blocks, then a stack of soaps on him.  The last photo showed him sitting nude in an “L” position with soaps stacked on his abdomen.  ‘Who took that shot?’ I thought.  I showed them to my friend in disbelief at his repeated efforts to get me back in his sheets.

We got out of the car and headed down Main Street.  I realized that Ex had faked his own death.  He had been alive the whole time!  We had held a memorial service and everything, and for what?!?  Seething, I walked with purpose on the concrete sidewalk in a pair of stacked-heel, black leather boots.  I was gonna kick his ass!  Instead, some young chump came up behind me and tried to mug me or something.  I double-kicked him Mortal Kombat-style.  He retreated to a porch.  “That wasn’t worth ten cents,” he said.

I woke up from this dream confused about reality.  It took a few minutes of asking myself if any of it had been true.  Was Ex alive?  Did Little Guy still have a dad?  Had he really faked his own death?

The memory of seeing Ex lying lifeless in the snow drifted through my mind.  No, none of my dream had been true, and I felt a little disappointed.  I know that Ex is gone forever from this planet.  I sometimes find myself half-wishing he was still here.

Vacation Pre-Planned and Needed More than Ever! November 14, 2009

I am on vacation.  Yes, I took two of them this year.  Why?  Because I can and I need to.  No, I don’t get paid vacation, but I get time off. 

I have had this trip loosely planned since August or so.  Then, when life changed forever for me and Little Guy, I needed to get away and looked forward to it more than I already had been. 

We are staying at Sid’s for two weeks.  So far, we have gone on walks every day with the dog and napped almost every day.  We have had scrumptious meals made by Scott or restaurants.  I have read an entire book and started a second one.  With the humidity, our skin has softened and my hair has more curl in it than it did, well, ever. 

While I haven’t gotten to escape all responsibility of tying up Ex’s loose ends, I have found that it’s not so bad to take care of those things in a warm, sunny, snow-free environment.  As much as I wanted to cry today after making difficult phone calls, those tears didn’t make it past my eyeballs.  I don’t know if the humidity tricked them into thinking they were already running down my face, or if my own stubbornness worked at keeping them in, but I was grateful for them staying in. 

We have a little over a week left of enjoying the weather and an open schedule and seeing friends that we don’t see nearly as often as I’d like.  I hope I get one more day by the pool in my tank top with my sweater tucked behind me for when the cool breezes pick up and to finish the rest of the other book Sid chose for me.  Even if I don’t, what I want most is for Little Guy to remember his first time at the beach and the time we have spent with family here.  I also would like to return home looking rested.  I hear rum drinks help with that.

Cheers!

Talk Thursday – Mea Culpa November 5, 2009

As a woman who grew up in Utah in the Mormon culture, I learned that everything is a woman’s fault.  Awesome.  I am the kind of person who feels responsible for almost everything and everyone.  I am the kind of person that takes responsibility for things that are not my fault.  I’d like to change this.  

When I was married, everything was my fault.  Why?  Because everything was my responsibility.  

When Ex went missing, I came back to find him after making sure Little Guy was somewhere safe.  I could have called the Sheriff’s office and told them I had a hunch, and would they please go and check it out.  But I didn’t.  It didn’t even cross my mind that day.  I know that Ex wanted ME to find him, and that I would, and that I would take care of everything, like always.  And I am.  

Last night when I was putting Little Guy to bed, Y&H came upstairs to tell me that he had to make our bed.  ”Oh yeah,” I said.  ”Sorry.  I washed the sheets.”  

Wait.

Sorry for what?  I have been moving by myself to the new house this week, cleaning the new house, and cooking dinner every night, and I’m sorry that I didn’t get around to putting the sheets back on the bed?  For not doing everything?  No!

I went to bed where Y&H was already asleep, exhausted from walking 15 miles that day during his Elk hunting.  I tossed and turned a bit thinking about how I had gotten myself into the same relationship that I had experienced before with Ex.

But wait.  This one’s different.  I can talk to Y&H.  So, I vowed to talk to him this morning before he left in his day-glow orange suit.  

When we woke up, he asked what time I came to bed.  I told him 9:20 p.m., after I had fallen asleep twice with Little Guy, then I couldn’t sleep because of my thought about our relationship.  

“What were you thinking about?” he asked.

I took a breath and felt anxiety in my belly.  ”Was it a big deal that you had to make the bed last night?” I asked him as he put his clothes on. 

“No.  Did you think it was?” he asked.  

“Yeah.”

“Why?” he asked.  

“I’m just a little sensitive to that.  It would have been a big deal to Ex.  I had to do everything,” I said.

“I’m nothing like him, except for one day every three months,” he said.  (He has a bad day about that often.)  He sat on the bed and leaned over me so we could see each other’s faces outlined in the pre-dawn light.  ”I told you.  I cook.  I clean.  It doesn’t bother me.  I was just letting you know that I made the bed,” he said.   

“Oh, good!” I said with relief.  ”I thought I had gone and done it again just when I was thinking that this one (relationship) would really work.”

We kissed goodbye and had a laugh.  Whew, for once it’s NOT my fault.  If I had kept that silly wondering inside and let it harbor and breed resentment toward Y&H, that would be my fault.

Making New Memories November 2, 2009

I took Little Guy trick-or-treating, well trunk-or-treating, on Halloween and then to a community Halloween party.  Little Guy had a blast.  I forgot the camera, so I’ll fake some pics later of Little Guy.  I had a good time seeing friends, but it didn’t take long for the tears to start coming.  It didn’t help that a local business owner and father was there with his family.  I was till sore over his words to me from the day before, business-related.  I glowered at him that night, mad at him for taking his life for granted and for being such a petty dickhead.  

I was okay until a friend of mine came up to me and said, “I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.  I’m sorry to hear about your Ex.  You know, my dad was murdered when I was 6, and I don’t remember any of it.  It fades over the years.  It will be up to you to help Little Guy remember his dad.  How are you doing?”

“Fine,” I said and smiled as I held back tears.  People can read me like a book.  

“You’re strong,” she said.  ”You’ll make it through this just fine.  It gets easier over time.  Where’s Girlfriend?”

“I haven’t seen her yet,” I said.  I moved out of her place last weekend and back into the old house and have started to move into a different house this week.

She showed up with her mom, daughter, ex-husband and boyfriend.  ”How are you?” she asked.  And then her mom asked, and I thought, ‘I have a whole year to go of making new memories without Ex.’  I kept answering “fine” to everyone and pushing back more tears.  This is the first holiday of the season, and how am I going to do with the rest of them?  

The same way I did with Halloween.  I’ll make new memories, and it will get easier with each one.  Then, I’ll have a whole year done and full of new memories to look back on next year.  I hope that with each year the first day of Fall and Halloween get easier.  I know they will, and maybe I’ll remember to bring the camera.  

As for the local business owner, I decided that I don’t despise him.  I dislike him in general, but aside from that, I also feel a little jealous that he still has his wife and kids.  So I have somewhat stopped wanting to tell him where to go and really want to tell him to treasure what he has because life is fleeting, and life is short, and if I were him, I’d worry about the big stuff and not the small stuff.  

Because of that incident at his business and the way the management runs the company I work for, I have decided that I need a new job.  So, here’s to a year of making new memories and creating the life that I want.

 

Date Night October 24, 2009

I went on a date last night, a real honest-to-goodness date.  I needed daycare today while I was at work, but Little Guy’s daycare woman needed him there early in order to make her dog’s vet appointment.  She knows that I never get Little Guy to her very early, so she suggested he spend the night there on Friday.  ”Okay!” I said.  That was Tuesday.  

I was so excited at the prospect of having a night to go out on the town with Y&H that I called him almost immediately on Tuesday evening to tell him of the opportunity.  We had many ideas of what we would do for date night, and we agreed that whatever we did, we would go out.  Last time we had a night to ourselves, I was so exhausted that I fell asleep on the living room floor at his house, fully-clothed, at 10:45 p.m.  We were supposed to go out to see a band that night, but I didn’t have the energy or desire to expose myself to the various, airborne diseases going around.  

Thursday night we agreed that we would go to dinner in a nearby town and then take a soak in the hot springs.  It sounded so relaxing, so I made myself a pedicure appointment for right after work.  I hadn’t enjoyed a pedicure since Little Guy’s first birthday, so I decided that after 3-and-a-half years, it was time.  I also knew the better I took care of myself, the better prepared I would be to spend a great evening with Y&H and take care of Little Guy after work today.  

At the salon, I picked “An Affair in Red Square” by OPI, a glistening red that reminded me of a marbled bowling ball.  It’s too bad that Y&H is color-blind.  I should have picked a trendy gray, just to mess with him.  Next time, maybe I will.  

I finally got done with the pedicure, an hour and a half later, callus-free, and picked up Y&H.  I said that I would drive to dinner, if he would drive us home.  I felt so tired.  We went to the old house to let the dog out & back in, then off we went to dinner.  We had a delicious, tender prime rib dinner that I didn’t have to pay for.  At the car, Y&H got my door for me.  He reminded me that we were on a date, and that he was going to do those kinds of things.  I am so not used to this kind of chivalry, even after 3 months of dating Y&H.  We drove to the hot springs and soaked and talked and laughed and kissed.  

We got home to my old house around 11:15 p.m., and I thanked him for dinner and the soak.  He thanked me for not fighting him about paying.  I’m also not used to men paying for dates, at least not regularly.  We talked until about midnight, then went to bed.  We both agreed earlier in the car that we should have a weekly date night.  Now that I have Little Guy full-time, I think it sounds like a necessary and welcome event to keep the good thing that Y&H and I have going.

Can’t Touch This October 24, 2009

The other night while I lay on the couch in my old house talking to Y&H, I noticed some of Ex’s writing on one of the paper cut-out hearts I had taped to the wall a few years ago for Valentine’s Day.  I ignored it for the night and kept conversation going with Y&H.  I wasn’t in the mood to discuss another leftover jab that Ex had left for me.  

Sometime during my fits of sleep that night, I realized that it doesn’t matter what it says.  Ex is dead, and he can’t hurt me with his words anymore.  I could choose to let them, but that sounds like it would make life harder than it needs to be.  I made a mental note to look at the words in the morning.  

Morning came, and I was too busy getting me and Little Guy ready to go that I forgot.   I waited all day and contemplated not reading it.  I’m too nosy to let myself get away with that.  I thought about the choices that I had to deal with the note.  I could not read it and throw it away or read it and throw it away or burn it.  When I got home, this is what I read:

“You don’t love me or you never did.”

I threw it in the trash.  

Little Guy saw this and retrieved it from the garbage saying he wanted and why did I do that?  I didn’t have the heart or any good reason to tell him that his dad had written mean words on the paper, so I told him that I didn’t want the heart up on the wall anymore.  He put it back on the wall, then decided against it, against them all being up.  We took all three paper hearts down off the wall and threw them away.  I haven’t missed them.  

I feel bad that Ex felt that he had to leave that for me to read.  I felt bad that he felt that way, when he knew that I loved him.  We just weren’t right together.  That was his choice and way of expressing himself before he died.  I know he has left me other messages in the house.  I found another last night in the bedroom.  ”LOVE U” he had written in the dust of a framed picture of the two of us.  Y&H was with me.  (He is intrigued by the piles of mess left everywhere never knowing what he’ll uncover.)  I erased the letters with one of Ex’s left-behind socks and put the photo back in the drawer.  It’s kind of weird to feel his presence in the house like that, but I take comfort in knowing that he can’t hurt me with his words anymore.

One More Laugh October 19, 2009

Little Guy was climbing on the couches making a bridge, when I told him, “No.”

He fell down onto the pile of pillows between the couches and looked at me.  

“Couches are for….” I said and waited for him to fill in with the usual, “Sitting!”

This time he said, “Climbing!”  

We both burst out laughing.  I live to hear his laugh.

Talk Thursday – One Step at a Time October 19, 2009

I have three theme songs these days.  (Nerd Alert!  I know.)  Often, I find myself singing the choruses of these songs…to myself.

1) “I Am a Rock” by Simon & Garfunkel

2) “Stronger” by Britney Spears

3) “One Step at a Time” by Jordin Sparks.

These days I feel like I take everything one step at a time.  I feel so overwhelmed most of the time with tying up loose ends, finding a place to live, the mounds of bills I have to pay, including the mortgage for the old house and my rent, the people I have to call or who call me, working two jobs and taking care of Little Guy.  In order to get through everything, I take each day one step at a time.  It seems like everything that everyone needs, they need it yesterday.  I remind myself that I’m only human and can do as much as I can do, and I am doing a damn good job at holding my shit together so far, if I do say so myself.  

I will get through my mourning and raising Little Guy the best I can through it all and answering his questions.  One day soon, a lot of the loose ends will get tied up, and I can look back and breathe a sigh of relief.

Rejection October 18, 2009

Sometime in the last week I let some family members, to whom I don’t speak often, know that Ex had died.  These family members included my father who does not speak to me.  (Don’t get me started, it’s a long story, and it’s easier this way.)  

I have wondered since sending that email if I would hear anything from him in response to the news.  I must have hoped just a little bit that I would and felt disappointed when I didn’t, and still haven’t.  A night or two later, I dreamt that my dad had been in the same home with me, and that he hadn’t said a word.  He turned his back on me and walked away.  His best friend, and longtime family friend of mine, followed behind him in the dream.  First, he looked at me.  I was sitting on a gray couch, in a gray room.  He made eye contact in the doorway, shrugged his shoulders and followed my dad’s direction.  I never saw my dad’s face in the dream, only the back of his head.  

The dream reminded me of when I married Ex in 2000 and invited both my dad and his best friend to the wedding.  His best friend RSVP’d that he would attend.  I don’t remember hearing back from my dad, but I may have.  My dad didn’t attend.  A few weeks after the wedding, I got a card in the mail from my dad’s best friend with his apologies for not making it to our celebration and something about my dad wouldn’t let him attend.  I have felt since then that his friend wants to be there for me, but my dad won’t allow it.  The price for his best friend showing support must be pretty steep.  

Still, a week later, no email from my dad.  Or his friend.  No, “I’m sorry for your loss.”  He doesn’t even have to offer support or anything, like most everyone else has.  I know that the subject makes my acquaintances uncomfortable and unable to talk to me, but friends not so much.  He’s my dad.  I’ll just have to let it go like a feather in the wind, like I let go trying to figure out why Ex did what he did.  I’ll have to overcome the past so it doesn’t limit my future.  

And if I do hear from my dad, I’ll let you know.  That would be a welcome and positive change, even if I don’t hear from him after that.  I’ll take what I can get and keep my expectations low, meaning at nothing, so it’s a win-win situation for me.  I know it sounds like a canned, self-protecting mechanism.  Well, that’s because it is.

Now That Things Have Changed October 18, 2009

Remember the last showdown Ex and I had over painting Little Guy’s nails?  Little Guy does.  After I got out of the shower yesterday morning, Little Guy noticed my painted toe nails. 

“I want paint on my nails,” he said.  “My dad’s dead, so I can have paint on my nails, now, wight Mama?  Mama, can I?”

“If that’s what you want, that’s fine with me,” I told him.

“Wight now?” he asked.

“No, not right now, “ I said.  “I don’t have it with me.”  (We’re housesitting.)

“Waiter?”  he asked. 

“Yes, maybe later, next week some time.” 

I have decided that it’s fine for him to have paint on a nail or two or all, if he wants, until he goes to school.  Yes, I feel like I need to protect him from the ridicule he would receive.  Now, with no daddy, he’ll already be different enough.  I see no need to push that any further. 

Oh, and yes, Little Guy knows in the most vague, most honest terms I could find for a 4-year-old that his dad got hurt really bad and died and has turned into a star that we wave to at night. 

Little Guy has romanticized the star bit and made up so many stories that we could write a series on just what the star of his dead daddy can and cannot do.