Tag: humor

She smells rich…

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“Remember when we were in St Louis and went out to dinner and we walked by that woman on the street with her husband..and you said she smells rich..”asked my BDF (bestdivorcedfriend)…

Me “Ya..”

My BDF “I wanna be like that..”

Me “Ya..me too”

We sigh in unison. “Sigh..”

I guess it’s pretty common. This need to be something else..something better. To have more. I always felt that my X found me lacking. Or was it just that I found myself lacking? Actually I’m pretty sure he did find me lacking. Obviously. But I believed him. And I always wanted to be one of those women. The ones that had it all together. The ones he respected. That would make him happy..

In my mind I think of them as rich. These are women who smell like expensive perfume. Everyday. They aren’t saving it for special occasions. They wear white-and they don’t spill anything on it. They have perfectly straightened hair. They have manicured nails and designer purses. They leave lipstick marks on their wine glasses. They are thin. Their houses are perfect and they have fresh flowers on the dining room table. Their children are wearing matching outfits and taking violin lessons. They pick them up from school wearing pastel sweater sets and pearl earrings. They are painstakingly polite.

I’m not that woman. In fact.. I might be the exact opposite of that person. I AM the exact opposite of that person. I mean I can pull off one or two things on that list at a time.. If I work at it. But not for long. And not consistently.

I’m more of a curly hair and lipstick on my teeth woman. My house is only clean when I’m expecting company. I wear baby lotion instead of perfume on a daily basis. (What can I say I like the way it smells.) I usually wear black and still manage to stain it. No one at my house plays the Violin. I say Fuck a lot.

When I look at ‘those’ women I am just as in awe as my X always was. How are they doing it? I mean seriously..how the hell do they do it?! I guess that’s why I think of them all as rich. Because they must have plenty of money to pay the maid and hairdresser and dry cleaners. And if they say they don’t have help- I’m calling bullshit.

So why are we..why am I..so enamored with that woman. Who seems to have it all together. I mean really- she is ruining it for the rest of us. Like Martha Stewart and Pinterest. They trick us into thinking it’s easy to be that perfect. And it’s not! It’s not..

So now I’m divorced. Able to be myself..and not have to apologize for it. And I still secretly admire these women?! Has it been so ingrained in me by my X..by my X’s family. By society. That I still want it? Even when I know it’s complete bullshit!

You see. Perfect doesn’t exist. And when you are in a relationship with someone who finds the appearances more important than anything else..you are doomed. Trying to fit into the perfect picture was exhausting. And impossible.

So I don’t smell rich. And I guess I will have to live with that..

Does anyone know what divorced smells like?

Who the Hell are you?

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Who am I?

What am I supposed to be when that’s all I wanted to be… Wife. Mother. Stay-at-home mom. PTO president. Church volunteer. Wife. My family was my life. I had great pride in all of those things. I thought I had it all figured out.

Trying to reinvent yourself in your late 30’s. Against your will. What great fun! Said no one ever. I wasn’t prepared. I didn’t know.. I hadn’t even considered it. I really thought my X and I would grow old together. That someday our kids would be able to visit at Christmas with their own families and sleep in their old rooms. I would always be part of that. Part of him. We would weather through our tough times. I was naive. I held on to my marriage with all my might. It was who I was. It was my life.

But that didn’t work out. Request denied. Door slammed. Move along lady.. So now what? That’s the million dollar question. The last few years have been the hardest of my life. My divorce was pretty much a shit show. I had my pretty little picture ripped in two. There has been a lot of sadness. And anger. And let’s not forget the fear and anxiety. They are always close by. But I have strapped on my high heels and kept moving forward. 👠And with that I have began to redefine myself. And it has been at times liberating. I am no longer judging myself through the eyes of my X. I’m so much more than that.

I’m still a mother- just a single working one. And a woman. Just a single dating one. I’m a Nurse. A professional. A writer? A friend. A daughter and sister. I’m smart. And god dam I AM tough. Even when I didn’t believe it. I look in the mirror today and see a whole new person. Maybe..just maybe..who I am is more. I’m not sure yet. But I have hope in the maybe.

I’m not the same person that I used to be. But my divorce isn’t going to be my end all-be all. No! Almost every single aspect of my life has changed. Constantly evolving in my quest to figure this shit out! I will not give my X the satisfaction of breaking me. I will not continue to see myself through his eyes. Fuck that. Fuck him. He was wrong..

But I do know one thing for sure. I’m not a wife.

I’m divorced.

And I have the shoes to prove it…

Divorced Friends

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I remember hearing my mom talk about how there are different friends for different times in a persons life… You have your high school friends, the college friends, your mom groups, your couple friends… I’m not saying these groups are mutually exclusive. But they all represent different parts of who each of us are as a person.

When I was going through my divorce I was terrified. It was literally the most miserable experience I could imagine. I was totally unprepared. I remember feeling like I was drowning. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I could barely think. Yet here I was in the middle of a contentious divorce. It wasn’t pretty. I needed to be at my best. And I clearly was not. (It’s like someone asking you to run a marathon tomorrow..with no previous training..and did I mention you have the flu?) I felt like a failure.

So I would try to seek some kind of relief. Some words of wisdom. I felt very alone. I didn’t know how to make it through my divorce. I didn’t know if I would be ok.. I asked Google. I literally typed it into Google ‘How to get through my divorce..’ (and I apparently wasn’t the only one..) She didn’t show me what I was looking for. (In my mind Google is a girl..) She sent me to sites that told me how to make lists and organize your visitation schedule. Advice on divorce lawyers. How to pray. How to ‘forgive.’ It wasn’t what I needed. I needed a real live person who had been in my shoes before. Who understood how divorce feels.

Married friends didn’t understand. How could they? I know that they cared..and that they were trying. But their advice seemed critical. These people knew how to be married..not how it feels to be getting divorced. They were going home to their husbands everyday.

That’s how I acquired my DF’s. Divorced friends. The people who also had driven by their X’s house at midnight on New Years Eve and realize this is perfectly acceptable ‘going through a divorce’ behavior. These people understand that sometimes you have to take a shower just so you have a place to sob uncontrollably. They know that Holidays are brutal. They tell you to avoid all TV commercials in the month of February. They don’t expect that you should be better in a few months..they know it will probably be a few years. They know what it’s like to pack suitcases for kids that you have spent only a handful of nights apart from since their birth- and send them off with the person who recently ripped out your heart. They won’t say dumb crap like it will be ok..it’s for the best..you’re not alone..you’re better off. They understand that this f***ing sucks and it’s going to suck for a really long time. So get used to it. They are willing to talk endlessly about what a complete narcissistic asshole your X is and how much you wish you were still married-and they don’t see any need to point out how that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. They will hate the other woman passionately for you-just because. They get it..they know..they are divorced.. They have been in my shoes. 👠

Anxiety..You bitch..

 

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Divorce–reality. Here I am. 4 1/2 years later. Can you believe that?

I woke up in a cold sweat this morning… 6 am on a Sunday. Anxiety you bitch…I can always count on you…always by my side. Money…kids…work. How to change the lightbulbs in the Chandelier over the stairs. Who the fuck put a Chandelier over the stairs that requires a 12 foot ladder, accident insurance and maximum flexibility to change the bulb? Let’s safely assume it was a man. But anyway…I shall lay here worrying about it. That will help. I will worry…and feel anxious and lament my current circumstances. This is a perfect solution! Then I will get up and eat some of my kids old Christmas candy for breakfast.

Here is a short run down of what my current circumstances entail.

1. 42ish year old divorced mother of 3 with 10 extra pounds and anxiety issues . Single white female. Working mother…blah blah blah.

2. I have currently no lights on my stairs because I don’t have a ladder that will reach…. And somehow while laying in bed at (now) 6:30 on a Sunday morning after eating chocolate for breakfast and going back to bed- my ‘lightlessness’ is a direct result of my divorce. (It’s like that game I heard about one time where everyone in Hollywood can be linked to Kevin Bacon in 3 steps. But in my life- the divorce is Kevin Bacon…) Rationale as follows- 1) Husband leaves me for his lawyer girlfriend 2) get divorced 3) move to new house with chandelier over stairs and no ladder.

I know that many will tell me to move on and move up. Or whatever… And I am! I’m trying. I’m moving. Constantly moving. Sometimes forward. Sometimes backwards..a lot of times in circles. But I AM moving.

Divorce is a process. Divorce is ‘the gift that keeps on giving.’ It gives you anxiety. It gives you regrets. It also gives you hope for something better to come along. An ongoing process for a woman who finds herself maneuvering life as an unexpected Uno. And that process is my life.

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The Fabulous Four

 

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We are a team now. The Fabulous Four! Or maybe it’s the fabulous three..

With divorce things in your family change. It’s not what I planned- but it has been an interesting transformation. There are no longer two parents to take care of everything.. Now there is one. And she’s tired. And overwhelmed. And anxious. And did I mention tired??

At first I actually believed I would take care of everything. I’m the adult. The parent. My kids didn’t ask for this. In fact it was the opposite. They begged for no divorce. Please don’t! That was their vote. However we all learned pretty quick that it only takes one yes vote..then poof. Divorced.

I have 2 teenagers (boys) and a preteen (daughter)…and somehow we have worked out a system. I couldn’t do it without them. Now don’t get the wrong idea…not everyone is always willing..they are regular kids. They aren’t running around here asking for chores. “Quick mom! Tell me something I can do to make your life easier..” (They actually have perfected the art of ‘laying low’) Sometimes they pout. The always sigh and roll their eyes. They aren’t exactly happy about it.. But by God-we are a team- and when it comes down to it they always take their place on the field. That’s part of being a divorced kids. You grow up faster. No time to sit the bench.

My oldest is 18. He drives!! This is obviously his gift to the family. He drives a truck..so did I mention he is in charge of the trash? Naturally. He also is the best at moving furniture and lifting heavy things. He checks the oil in things. He changes lightbulbs. He jumpstarts dead batteries.. He’s our muscle. He will also have my back when I am checking out creepy noises in the garage.

# 2 is smart. Like seriously smart. He can do math. He helps with homework. He is technologically inclined. He resets the router-hooks up electronics- fixes my computer.. He also reads directions. So anything that requires more than 2 steps to put together- he’s your go to guy. He is responsible (and patient) enough to wait for the cable man. He’s the kid I call with specific requests like ‘go to the mailbox and see if my check from your dad is here’ because 1) he will answer the phone and 2) he will do it.

My daughter is mini me in training. She knows what’s going on. She makes everyone’s business her business. She eavesdrops as a hobby- and that can be quite useful. She loves all of our pets..so she naturally gets to assume all pet care responsibility. She feeds them and let’s them outside without being asked. She also passes out fashion advice (sigh) as needed. She knows how to make brownies and macaroni and cheese. She will make everyone breakfast. She is learning to sew. She can find stuff (because she is a girl..) She is happy and that reminds the rest of us to be happy too.

My kids have bonded in a way that I never expected. The 3 of them maneuver between 2 households, and all the chaos that comes with that, together. It is an experience that is uniquely there own. They have supported each other with the complete understanding that only they can provide for one another. They are each other’s ‘constant.’

We are a team… We mutually respect each other as team members do. It’s how we deal..how we cope. I have to I am admit I didn’t expect to see how the we would all pull together. It makes me proud. This experience has forced us to deal with things differently than we ever would have if there was no divorce. My kids are on the front lines of this family… And they are fabulous.

Hey, Are You Divorced??

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I think when picking your divorce lawyer you should choose someone who has actually been divorced. In fact…I think this should be the first question you ask.

“Hey, are you divorced?”

This did  not actually occur to me when I was choosing an attorney. I had no idea what I was doing and was still a little bit in denial about the whole thing.  I didn’t want to get divorced.  It still felt a little bit like a bad dream that I would wake up from. So this genius revelation never occurred to me until close to the end…

My divorce was a long (in my opinion) messy affair. Money was at stake. Visitation schedules. Holidays. Hourly rates. Back and forth. Emails and faxes. Distribution of property. Maintenance. Child support. Health insurance. The family silver needed to be divided. Who gets the tea service (not joking). He said she said. No fault divorce.

Blah..blah..blah…

I was sitting in my attorneys office preparing for our upcoming trial. Yes- trial. I hadn’t slept for months. I hadn’t been able to actually swallow food for weeks. The knot of terror in my throat kept getting in the way. My attorney is late. When he finally gets there he’s cranky. Perfect. He begins to tell me about the HORRIBLE morning he has had. Apparently his dishwasher had overflowed or leaked or something.. I’m having a hard time following in my current state of terrified, sleep deprived, malnutrition.  So I feel like I’m fighting for my life- and my lawyer is talking about kitchen appliances. You see his dishwasher malfunction caused water to leak onto his floor, and he had to help his wife deal with the catastrophe. His wife. He of course was happily married to a lovely woman. He had 2 adorable kids. (Picture the Christmas Card.) So at that very moment when he was lamenting his shitty morning to me- it hit me. This man has no fucking idea… He has no idea how this FEELS. He isn’t divorced. He probably thinks (like I used to) that divorce is something that happens to other people. And he probably thinks (like I used to) that they probably did something to deserve it. Divorce is a job to him. Not a feeling. And to me divorce is all about the feeling. Anger, rejection, grief, embarrassment, shame, exhaustion, uncertainty. It’s 100% fucking feelings. And those feelings are only understood by someone who has been there.

That is something they should put on their business cards…

Mr. John Doe

Attorney at Law

DIVORCED

Perk! Perk! PERK!!

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Is this a perk? Hmmmmm….

I want to be clear about something. As a general rule I am against divorce. I am for sure not going to be the person at the party (if I ever went to a party..) saying “Yeah..it all turned out to be for the best. It was worth it. Thank God my marriage failed.” Not going to happen. Maybe someday I will feel better about it. I don’t know. I’m a work in progress. But that’s not how I feel about it right now. Not even close…

However..it does turn out that after awhile..you might start to notice some perks. They pop up here and there. Unexpectedly. Like a little Surprise Party for one! Some are pretty obvious. Like not waking up every morning next to someone who is obviously disappointed to be waking up with you. Living with someone who is constantly unhappy is exhausting. Draining. Depressing. My X was like a broken record playing sad songs all day. Enough already! It was part of the background music of my married life. His constant criticism chipped away slowly and steadily at my self esteem. What a relief when it was gone. Perk.

Sex. If and when I have it now.. It’s fun. None of the baggage from a bad marriage to ‘screw’ it up. (Pun intended). For me it’s better than married sex. It’s sex where everyone is required to bring their A game! And that is a definite perk.

No snoring. My X could have competed in the Olympics if snoring was an event. He specialized in the ‘I’m drunk again but refuse to admit it’ snore. And he had the nerve to be an asshole about it. How dare I ask him to turn over..he has to work tomorrow! Sigh. Now…silence. Perk.

No justifying what I bought at the grocery store. My X would look over the grocery store receipts like a high school English teacher grading a term paper. He made notes and circled things. He frowned. He treated me like a child. Seriously.. I’m not making this up. Now I can go crazy and buy 4 cans of peas and no one questions my decision making skills. No one cares! Perk.

I am in charge of my TV remote. I don’t have to share a bathroom. I have a turtle. Perk. Perk. Perk. No battles over who will discipline the kids. No mother-in-law. MAJOR PERK! No dealing with a sick man in my house. (I’m sure we are all familiar with the man cold..) No battles over what color to paint the living room. No judgement over days spent at home in my pajamas. No fights over that silly stuff that every married couple fights about..but no one even can remember why the  next day. No disappointment over the cruel realization that your husband doesn’t want to spend his Saturday with you. Again. The constant unfulfilled expectation is gone…You are alone and you know it. Perk.

The only way to survive divorce is to accept change. And part of that change is finding happiness in your current circumstances. Thankfully I am finding that divorce does come with a few perks.

Thank God. I’m divorced…I deserve a few perks.

 

X’s and Oh-Oh-Orgasms

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I had me a boy, he said he was a man
I showed him all the things he refused to understand
Whoa, and then He let ME go…

The first time I had sex after my marriage was over I felt like sending a Certified Letter to my X. I had a great need to tell him what a lazy piece of shit he really was. It was almost laughable really. I married youngish.. I guess I had set the bar pretty low. And even with my low expectations I was still usually disappointed. The X wasn’t to worried about my ‘oh-oh-oh’s’… But I didn’t dwell. I focused on other things. I didn’t know any different. I thought it was my fault.

But now- My divorce helped me realize how important it is to have Great Sex. That I didn’t deserve anything less. Sex isn’t just for men.. And by ignoring that I did myself a great disservice. 15 years of disservice. I ignored one of the most obvious facts during my marriage…

If your husband isn’t having sex with you it’s because he’s having sex with someone else. Your Oh-oh-orgasm is being provided elsewhere. Bottom line. Don’t tell yourself that it’s just because he’s stressed. Or that it’s his back hurting. Or it’s because the laundry room is messy.. The house isn’t clean. He’s had to much to drink again. You don’t talk to him respectfully enough. You spend to much money. He couldn’t find clean underwear. He has to work. (All excuses I heard…among others) Listen carefully people. If your spouse doesn’t want to screw you..they are screwing someone else. Period. End of story. Truth.

The lack of intimacy in my marriage was painful. And embarrassing. I kept it a secret. I mean every woman I talked to complained about how their husband always wanted to have sex with them. I would nod and smile in understanding..while secretly wondering how that must feel. It sounded so nice to me.. These women weren’t perfect. I had seen their laundry rooms! But their husbands still cared enough about them to want them to ‘oh’..often

What if I hadn’t gotten divorced? What if I had a received my wish (at the time) and stayed married? So maybe what my Certified Letter to my X should say is Thank You! And let me tell you…this would be the only thank you he would ever receive from me. And I might add in a little Congrats for his ‘upgrade’…I’m pretty sure she is getting what she deserves…

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My Ex’s and Oh-Oh-Oh’s they haunt me

Like ghosts they want me to have’em all
They won’t let go…
Ex’s and oh’s

 

yoga…or yoga pants

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So I’m trying something new..at the urging of my friend. One of my best divorced friends. That’s what single divorced women end up doing. Stuff together so you’re not alone. She came up with the idea of enrolling in a beginners Yoga class. New Year New You crap we fall for every year. She’s the one always searching for terrific things we could be doing..that neither of us will want to do in the end. We will be to tired..broke..or lazy. But she seems to enjoy this ‘let’s try this..’ game. And I start to feel like an asshole for always saying no. So how bad can Yoga be? I mean one Pro right off the bat is it gives my a legitimate reason to own my Yoga pants. Con- no shoes.. But anyway- she registered us online and I prepared myself mentally for Yoga 101. (Knowing full well that in reality on the first  night of said Yoga I wouldn’t want to go. I would be hoping for a sick kid..or sudden diarrhea..) But the first night came with no crisis in sight. I drug my feet..waited for her to back out..but nothing. So off to Yoga we go. Sigh.

We arrived at the ‘studio’ (aka strip mall with shitty parking) and paid $48 for our 4 classes. We were late (my fault of course) and were forced to parade in front of a roomful of women and 2 token men (1 old guy who’s pants are to short and 1 guy with his Asian girlfriend. Has anyone else noticed how cool and beautiful Asian girlfriends are? Like us regular middle aged divorced women don’t have enough competition) to the front of the room. Not where you want to sit in beginning Yoga. I am right in front of a statue of some weird Chinese Elephant thing. I can’t really see the teacher.. But everyone can see me. And my ass. There are mats and pillows..and blocks and straps. Accessories. Instructions. Our instructor is a lovely woman with a flowery top and pleasant reassuring voice. I don’t hear her name. But her assistants name is Luna. I zone right in on that interesting tidbit. Because of course if someone names you Luna you will work in the Yoga industry. It’s destiny.

Yoga is supposed to be relaxing. Enlightening. Exercise. You still your mind and learn self…something. I know right away I’m out of my league. I spy on the people around me instead of listening to my breathing. I remember I don’t like most people’s naked feet to be near me. Ever. My pants feel tight. I forgot my hair tie. My favorite part by far is when we just lay on our mat with the lights dimmed. My second favorite part is the end. I do find I am good at the child’s pose. My hips are not flexible (probably due to the lack of sex in my life..or maybe because I’m over 40. Or is that redundant?) It becomes evident that I really need to pee. But disturbing class seems a bad idea. I don’t think Luna would like it. I focus on the elephant and wish I could see the clock.

I mean there are obviously 2 types of women. Women who like Yoga..and women who like Yoga pants. I think it’s obvious which one I am. (However–side note–I do have a great idea about Yoga classes that start with everyone drinking a big glass of wine. WINE YOGA. My idea. Called it.) When I was in counseling during my divorce a few years ago my therapist recommended I try Yoga. I went once and cried through the entire class. Being quiet with yourself during absolute heartbreaking misery not a good idea. Especially in dim lighting with incense burning. *Consider yourself warned.*

But wearing the pants. That’s something I’m good at….

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Snow Day….Go Day….

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Happy Snow Day…Or Go Day as I not so enthusiastically call the days my kids leave to stay at the X’s. Every other Wednesday/Thursday…1st and 3rd weekends..a complicated array of holidays and vacations. Even after all this time it totally pisses me off. Maybe not for the same reasons it used to. My reasons- like my divorce- have evolved. But what bothers me the most at this point is probably my kids constant inconvenience.

Look at today for example. It was a Snow Day! How great is that. A day to wear Snow Boots!  Sledding and sleeping and snacking. Since I work at the schools I was home too. My daughter was invited to a friends house mid-afternoon..what fun! On the drive over she blurted out–“Mom..I’m supposed to be going to dads tonight. I forgot! I’m not packed.” I assured her that I would take care of things and told her to have fun. But you know what. I’m pissed. For her. For all 3 of them.

How many adults would be ok with dragging their shit back and forth between two different houses? Suitcases..laundry..book bags..a Saxophone. Constantly balancing two different worlds. NOT BY ANY CHOICE OF THEIR OWN. It must be exhausting. It is exhausting. Leaving behind pets and teddy bears. Favorite pillows and video games. Wondering which house you left your football jersey at. Constantly forgetting something- because you know…you’re a kid. Where’s my laptop charger? I can’t find my Star Wars t-shirt! I only have one shoe…the other one must be at dads! I’m sick- I don’t want to go-can’t I please stay home mom? The constant “where am I this weekend?” question. If I were them I would be furious. Hell, I am furious. I am pretty sure they will NEVER thank us for this carefully constructed schedule that is their childhood. As a parent I feel ashamed…

One of my many regrets during my divorce is letting myself be bullied into mid-week visits by my X and his lawyers (yes there was an S on the end of that..) I let lawyers and a man who cheated on me for years convince me that any Judge would grant him 50/50 custody (or more..) if I pushed my luck. The X deserved to see his kids, right? Not at their convenience but at his. Midweek visits in MY OPINION are wildly inconvenient and intrusive to my children’s lives. It’s chaotic. They don’t like it.(And that doesn’t mean they don’t love their father..because they do..but that’s not really the point.) The kids resent it. But they have no choice. And I feel pissed…and sorry…and guilty. No matter what happened or whose fault it was..I can tell you who is paying the price. And I’m not talking about me…