Mission: The Attic

Since my last post, things have been moving along in their typical bi-polar fashion, as has become the norm, lately.

I've realized that much of my frustrations stem from the expectations I have of others.
NOT having SOME sort of expectations out of those closest to you, or those who require daily interaction;
 I've realized, is simply impossible.

So, then I ask myself, what are reasonable & amicable expectations to have for those particular folks?
And, in the effort of fairness, what are their expectations of me?

This past weekend, I packed up the dog, a change of clothes and my toothbrush; and set off on the new vehicle's maiden voyage up north to visit my family. After several panicked calls from my mom this week venting about my unmedicatable (spell check is telling me that's not a word, but we're gonna go with it) schizophrenic step-grandmother & her concerns that she could very well burn my grandparent's house down at any given moment; the need for me to make a trip up there to deal with things was apparent.

After my sudden decision to move to California, over a decade ago; I had hastily packed up my college apartment and tossed most everything in my grandparent's attic. They live in an old farm house that fortunately had ample room to house my belongings, as well as boxes of family heirlooms from my great-grandmother's house that also got deposited up there when she passed. Now imagine that clutter of boxes, totes, furniture, etc; and add to that tons of my childhood crap (highchair, bassinets, boxes of barbies, toys, etc) that my mom didn't have the heart to part with holding on fiercely to the idea that one day MY children would use and/or appreciate those things; mixed with random storage of my grandparents from when they were physically capable of scaling the treacherous staircase-of-death (as I like to call it); AND some random odds and ends of my mom's and her sister's....

Are you imagining all that? Good. Now put a layer of dust about an inch thick over everything, like a powdery icing to this hoarder's dream, and add a nightmarish amount of ladybug corpses on and around EVERY SINGLE WINDOW in the 3 different rooms of the attic...and you have (drum roll, please!)
The Attic!

Once the decision was made that I would be coming up to essentially get anything of importance out of The Attic before said grandmother could torch the place, my mom continued to express her great concern for the fact that due to her sickness, lack of touch with reality, and seemingly increasing hostile behavior; that she was incredibly concerned that she may try to attack me while I was trucking through the house with a handful of shit. My mom had to work that weekend, and couldn't function as my wingman; and after many reassurances that I could handle myself and promised to carry a weapon on me, just in case; the plan was set in motion. In addition to the stress created from the thought of my very own grandmother, (who, in her properly medicated days, endlessly pushed my ET 3-wheeler around the gravel driveway & participated in nearly every tea party and school lesson I conducted as an only child) possibly "shiv"ing me when I least expected it; mom had also been expressing her concerns over grandma doing something to my grandpa in his sleep or simply him having a heart attack from the stress of all of this. This conversation lead to the confirmation of what I already knew, which was that I will be the one to primarily deal with the final arrangements when my grandpa passes. She simply can't do it, and I accept that.
THAT discussion led to questions pertaining to what arrangements he'd already made himself versus things that would need to be handled afterward.

Now, I know this sounds like a morbid topic; but knowing how paperwork and logistically retarded most everyone in my family is; I knew this was information we needed to have, rather than scrambling around to find it while also dealing with the loss of the most important man in my life.

Needless to say, I was kind of dreading the weekend; but charged forth, full steam ahead.

I got to spend some quality time with Grandpa which I really enjoyed. Saturday morning I was up at 5:30, downed about a pot of coffee, and was in the house, alone with Grandma by 7:30am, to start the purge.

Walking into a dark house full of wonderful childhood memories, to find my Grandma asleep in her wheelchair, in the kitchen...with the oven door wide open...was alarming to say the least.
The thought had crossed my mind that she had heard me tell my Grandpa that I'd be out that morning, and would wait until I got upstairs, let the house fill up with gas, and light a match.

Boom.

Then I came to the conclusion my mom's paranoia had filtered over into my brain, knocked the thought, and secretly vowed to come back and haunt the farm, should I go kablooie.

Then the crazy-organizer in me took over. Five hours later; 3 SUV loads full of shit reclaimed from The Attic & moved into a spare bedroom at mom's, roughly 10lb of crunchy, dead lady bugs sucked up into a shop vac; a brief, stress-filled breakdown triggered after discovering my Curious George stuffed animal that I toted through most of my young childhood (that I thought had been lost/tossed at some point over the years); and several, surprising lucid, conversations with Grandma throughout the day (one of which, where I had to break the news of the break-up w/ M.M., to her)....I can say that The Attic is as clean & organized as it has been in over 25 years.

And she didn't attack me or blow me up.

This I considered an overall success for the day.

Mission accomplished.

Saturday evening & Sunday included several difficult "What arrangements have you made for your death"-type discussions with my Grandpa; while tactfully trying to make the point that we all simply need to be prepared for these kinds of things, as opposed to sounding greedy...not that there's a dime to bicker over in my family, but it's still an awkward conversation to have.

Further solidifying my conclusion that all of my family members are paperwork-retarded; we discovered that:
1. He doesn't have a will. This means that if he goes before grandma, she will inherit the farm, as his spouse.
Have I mentioned that she's completely out of her tits CRAZY right now, and will be for the rest of her days?
If he goes, she NEEDS the safety of an institution (which my grandpa refuses to do); which means she becomes a ward of the state, which means the state claims everything to cover the costs...there are a million other fringe complications (all the other nutball relatives coming out of the woodwork, as they tend to do, to "claim" what they feel is theirs; no designated person to execute final details of the estate, debts, etc) & scenarios that all end in me being completely frustrated that he didn't see the importance (aka: my expectation) and responsibility of having a will drawn up....and still doesn't. 
2. He bought cemetery plots 30 years ago, but it took an excessive amount of explaining on my part to get him to understand that I needed some sort of bill of sale PROVING that he purchased them & where they were located. (He seemed to think I could just go tell "the guy at the cemetery" & all would be ok...sidenote: that guy is probably already dead.) He finally dug up a legit Cemetery Deed & with a sigh of relief I xeroxed and scanned a copy.
3. He has a small life insurance policy that MIGHT be barely enough to cover his funeral expenses. Let me add to that, that once he was able to dig the policy out, we discovered that my Grandma is the beneficiary. Yes. Let's put the permanently mentally-unsound person (who directs most of her hate-filled outbursts, at him) in charge of your funeral arrangements.
4. I realized that he keeps all of his important documents hidden in the barn and the truck of his car. I realize that is to keep my grandma from burning or trashing them; but the idea of searching for vital documents in places like that makes me nuts.


Ugh. That whole thing is going to be a total mess, that I dread more than anything.


I just realized my alarm will be going off in 4 hours. And I don't even dread that as much.


With all of the above mentioned details, considered; I did get to spend some quality time with my mom and grandparents, that was actually enjoyable.

Though, the last words from Grandma were that she'd decided she was going to kill herself.
By that point the other personalities had started surfacing mixed in with blaring music and 5 solid minutes of creepy, cackling laughter, prior to that declaration...(sigh)

The lettuce on my shit-sandwich of family dysfunction, was a visit to my Dad's. It's too late to even start on that topic, honestly.
Long-story short, there was a conversation about a sensitive topic, that was promised to me; that ended up being a rushed "just leave it be" response from him, before we were interrupted.

Again, this left me upset and frustrated with his inability to realize my need for clear and direct communication on the subject, that I feel is vital to our relationship.

The drive home was a good 3 hours of processing the previous couple days, and coming to the conclusion that every fucking male in my life is a HORRIBLE communicator.

My only solution is to better convey my need for clarity, and hope to come to an understanding.

I need to wrap up this long-winded entry, to attempt some much-needed sleep.

I read a quote recently that really struck a cord with me. I think I'll close with that thought in mind...

“One of the greatest gifts you can give someone is the gift of attention.” -Jim Rohn

For Today

Today I am "prone".
In all aspects of my being.

I know it's healthy to have a good cry, now and again; but today I feel overwhelmingly weak & vulnerable.
Self-doubt floods my every thought, which only perpetuates my inner voice telling me to "get it together".


For now, I'm choosing to ignore that voice, and just submit.



For today.

Green Room Glory & Misc. Ramblings

Today, I realized that one of the things I long for most, right now, are TRUE human connections.

So many of our day-to-day interactions with people are surface relationships, which I suck terribly at.
It's that whole "wearing my heart on my sleeve" problem.

I guess I just miss having true friends in close proximity. My efforts to reach out to people here have been mediocre.

I have a hard time understanding how, in a city as large and "surface" as Los Angeles, I could connect with so many wonderful people; yet here it seems so difficult.

On a MUCH happier note: I purchased my very first vehicle, with my own money, that is solely MINE!  Without going into a drawn-out tale of how uncomfortable the last couple months have been sharing MM's car has been; all I can say is this is a huge step in the right direction for me.

Isn't she pretty?! I'm currently calling her "Petunia Pumpernickle". I love her.

There is also light at the end of the endless-painting-the-house-tunnel. I can't complain, as it kept me occupied over the last few months, and it's made this rental house feel more like home as I've personalized rooms more with color & some new furnishings. Though, the disorder of trying to paint while moving piles of crap from one room to another, nearly drove me crazy! 

 One room I'm happiest about is the craft room! It is vibrant green and my place for inspiration....

Here are two of my newest collages, I completed days after getting the room completed...

"Something to be Desired"

"Self Reflections"

I also managed to complete my first knitting project! I'd promised a gal-pal a scarf for her birthday over a year ago, and due to Hobby Lobby being a bastard and discontinuing the yarn I'd started the first scarf with, and my general crafting-A.D.D.; here's the finished product that I mailed to her a few weeks ago: 

On a totally separate note, let me share a FB conversation I had with my dad recently, regarding another sister I have that was conceived during a time that he and his wife were temporarily separated, that I know very little about... (note the dates of the messages)

Me: September 12, 2012  7:26pm
"I've been thinking more about this other sister, lately, and (thanks to FB) can at least see what she looks like w/o being intrusive.
What's her name?
Do (insert names of other sisters) know about her? (I can't remember)"

Dad: March 9, 2013  1:51am
"hey, got my teeth removed and new choppers put in, doing ok. xxxooo, pop."

 Me: March 9, 2013  10:41am
"Glad you have that part over with & everything went ok. The dentures usually take alot of adjusting to get just right.

It's funny that your choppers message shows up as a totally off-topic response to my previous questions...
I'm not trying to stir the pot in the (insert last name) house, but I feel like this is information I should know. I feel like you are still of the opinion that kid #4 is a mistake you'd like to forget or ignore...but remember kid #1 was a mistake, too."

Dad: March 10, 2013  4:21pm
"next time your up we will talk, ok."

Oh, sweet dysfunction!

What are so many people's issues with clear and direct communication?!

Along that irritating train of thought, things with Mac have been...confusing, to say the least. I sent an email to him on the 13th very openly communicating some of my thoughts/feelings about certain aspects of whatever-this-is and simply asking for some clarity; and have yet to get a response. We've talked since then, but not in environments that were conducive to that particular conversation. My hope is he's waiting to sit down and actually talk to me about it, instead of just stalling/avoiding.

Though, there's so much uncertainty, I'm having a difficult time being optimistic about it.

In an effort to wrap up another of my 'random thoughts' posts on 2 positive notes:

#1. I recently picked up a new volunteer gig! I'm volunteering for a few hours after work, on Thursdays, at a local dance studio.
Get this crazy-ass association: my ex-boyfriend's best friend's ex-wife's mother, who happens to be a FB friend of mine, contacted me and asked me to help out. I'll be working the registration desk & getting to take a few free classes (seriously considering belly-dancing) in exchange.

I'm excited about having something new to do that gets me out of the house, around lots of new faces, and though I can already see the volunteer-vortex that may suck me in; there are lots of avenues that I can see where I'll be a huge asset to them.

That sounds totally conceded, but there seem to be an abundance of flighty individuals with little ability/drive to organize the organization/processes/space. This is what I have to offer and they seem open to it.



#2. I received my non-GMO seeds in the mail today, and have already filled my south-facing windows with containers full of wonderful, black dirt & veggie seeds!

More details to come at a later date. For now, I think I'll join Trixy for a nap on the new white down comforter, while basking in the afternoon sunlight of this 50 degree, spring day; before tomorrow's snow storm hits...

    

Talk Talk

Communication is one complex bitch.


There are obvious differences between male/female communication.

Then, there is such a difference between every single person's perceptions of how they think they communicate versus how other people perceive their ability to communicate.

Sometimes I feel like this is one of my life's purposes...to help others communicate better & to constantly work on my own, which is an full blown effort in and of itself.

I work with a slew of wonderful folks who are terrible communicators. If I had a nickle for every meeting or conversation I've had there, that actually had all parties openly communicating their points, listening (and I mean REALLY listening) to others input, and having a clear, concise conclusion before the end of the conversation....I'd have about ten cents.

That was just a random thought after a mentally exhausting day.

So, as a wrap-up to my last post.....

I had most certainly ratcheted myself up into a frenzy that night. Buttercup helped immensely & I love her for it. There had indeed been a family emergency of sorts with "Mac" and I ended up feeling like I'd overreacted like a crazy person, then realized that was an inappropriate analogy...

We had a nice face to face talk the following day, which I think did him more good than it did me.
Very much like MM, Mac seems to lack a thick support group of friends & family to talk to, and seems to internalize more than his fair share. 

I feel a sense of duty & accomplishment by being a good friend to him in that regard. If nothing else comes of this, at least we have that.

Affirmative Action

Is being attracted to stereotypes some kind of mental condition?
Or at least some sort of deeply seeded sort of emotional dysfunction?

During this journey of self-reflection, I've started noticing a pattern.

My attraction to the oddest array of stereotypes of men is more diverse than my resume.

Now, granted, (most of) these men were more than the labels I'm about to list; so don't fret, I'm not that shallow.
But let's take a look (in no particular order)...

• Hard-Core Catholic Meat-head Body Builder
• Goth / Musician
• Growling Grandaddy Cowboy
• Ebony Model
• Biker
• Frat Boy
• Trailer Park Trash
• UPS Worker
• Jock
•  Latin Emo King
• Accused Rapist? (found that one out, later)
• Teddy Bear BDSM
• Camp Counselor

Those are just the one's that immediately come to mind...That's weird, right? It's like affirmative action in my pants.

 My conclusion is that I have "Plain Jane Syndrome".

There's very little that feels exotic about me & if I had to stereotype myself the first thing that comes to mind is "girl next door"...hence the "P.J.S."

Therefore, I think I seek out men who are drastically different from me because it's thrilling.

Unfortunately, it never seems to work out. Why is that?

Opposites attract, right?

I also tend to be drawn to dudes with major issues. This (I think we've established) is because I'm a "fixer".

Sometimes I feel like I'm mentally profiling people. Is that normal??
It feels slightly psychotic, sometimes, but I can't help it.

Knowing what makes people tick, attempting to understand their childhoods, their relationships with their parents, and/or whether they'll let me in enough to hold their junk while they pee; is such a high.

Who needs therapy when you have idle time & a bottle of vodka?! 

As a side-note, I've been talking to a guy off and on the last couple weeks. Nothing serious, just casual chatting, mostly.  And mostly through text...which I am both annoyed by and equally entertained by.
It's helped curb the heavy heart & head that always seem to be lurking around every corner of this house.

I have a wonderful support group of friends, though most are in a different time zone; and calling them EVERY time I feel lonely, insecure, or just want some sort of witty exchange, feels like I'm being a burden.

I guess where I'm going with this, is that these exchanges have offered me a flirtatious break from the gloom, which I totally appreciate, for what it is. Though, our normal, fairly heavy text exchanges, were reduced to a few cryptic responses from him, today, one of which included some issue he was dealing with, with the ex & his kids.

My brain immediately went to genuine "worry" mode that some horrible car accident had happened or some other tragic event. I've checked my phone for missed texts so many times I ran the battery nearly dry & find myself  bringing my IM screen up to see if he's online...and that's where I've been for about the last 12 hours...

Now, after several cocktails, some surfing of the inter-webs, and about 3/4 of a pack of smokes; I've convinced myself that I'm not going to hear a peep from him tonight (which irrationally pisses me off), and will get some cryptic message tomorrow that he and the ex have resolved their differences, or some other sort of shit-sandwich.

Side-note of the side-note: I hate the internal battle I feel sometimes between my head and heart. The stubbornness in my head reverts to wanting to give someone the silent treatment, not send another text/email until they contact me first, etc...while my heart just wants to talk it out and extend another hand out to someone to make amends, smooth things over, and correct any misunderstandings. 



I need to make an affirmative action to get my shit together...and call Buttercup to vent.

Mac-tastic

This text conversation just happened:

Me: "I made the mistake of looking up 'vagina' on Urban Dictionary. I'm easily entertained."

Mac: "Anything good?"

Me: "Twatlantic Ocean"

Mac: "That's the one that connects to the Red Sea once a month, right?"

I just laughed so hard I cried.

"Buttercup"

So after an inspirational text from one of my favorite gals on the planet (who is also the health-nut I can only aspire to be-but likely fail-...let's call her "Buttercup" for now); I made a list and went grocery shopping for the first time in...3 weeks...? I don't know...
It's been awhile.

Anyway, I had a hankering for some pulled pork sandwiches; and since the crock-pot is my favorite kitchen appliance of all time, I bought a pork butt.

The dilemma, here, lies in the fact that I am a lover of leftovers; but they don't really sell single-serving pork butts at Kroger and as much as I'll eat the shit out of leftovers, I also don't want to be eating pulled pork for 8 days.

Needless to say, there's a giganto slab of pork currently slow-cooking & the folks at work are going to be my unwilling recipients, tomorrow.

If you've got excess, share it; right?

What a perplexing weekend...for now, I think that may be a conversation saved for Buttercup & I...(sigh)

I've been jamming out to some Led Zeppelin for the last hour or so, and still daydream about being 25ish in their glory days and being a 100% full-fledged-groupie. No shame in that daydream....I would have packed a bag and jumped on the groupie-train with no regrets!

Wanna get me hot? Rock some hard Jimmy Page guitar riffs & Robert Plant lyrics from your iPod & I'm there.

The funny part is I don't think anyone in the band was especially attractive, but the music speaks to me on every avenue of my being.

Can you tell?

Ugh. Now I'm just rambling...

I do that. Deal with it.

This post may quite honestly be the most pointless of any I've ever written. I just wanted to write.

Thanks for hanging in there with me.

I love you all. (even if "all" only consists of Buttercup) <3

Boogie Nights

It's amazing how drastically your eating habits change, when you're single.

I definitely had twizzlers, banana walnut bread, and a vodka tonic for dinner last night.

In an attempt to get back on track with the healthy eating resolution, I've thrown together some turkey chili tonight, which is currently simmering into a soupy goodness downstairs, as we speak.

The bonus? It's LOADED with peppers. Getting to load meals with foods that your former significant other disliked, is somehow gratifying.

Though, I do find guilt lurking around the corner by making the whole house smell like delicious food; and sadness right on it's heels when I realize I'll be enjoying it alone.

On a lighter note, this weekend held a flurry of interesting activity!

I met up w/ an old friend of mine on Friday night, who was in town visiting from Detroit. She's a friend that I met originally through MM (actually, an old fling of his) who I've come to adore. She's happily married now, but vows to join my late-life-lesbian-farm commune if things don't pan out. Over a flood of cocktails, we agreed the farm may end up heavy on babies & dogs, but we'd find some way to balance it out.

Saturday evening I attended a big fundraiser (the "Boogie") with some co-workers for the Red Cross & a local, independent restaurant association. It's loaded with free wine, beer, food, & a band; amongst all of the other fundraising . Oh! And it's Mardi Gras/Swamp Chic themed, so the array of costumes/outfits is always a hoot.

I dusted off my old sequined & fringed flapper dress, a feather boa, and went out for  round #2.

The fundraiser was fun (w/ my AA devout boss in attendance, things didn't get too crazy)...

I ended the night dancing barefoot for hours at the newest gay bar called "The Backdoor" with a co-worker and a random friend of another co-worker, who at some point in the night informed me that he'd had to have ball-reduction surgery...

I told him I'd take his word for it & went back to dancing w/ the gang of queens that had accumulated around me.

In addition to that oddity, I ran into a local businessman I've met several times through Chamber of Commerce events & his wife; who persistently tried to get me to come back to their house for drinks. Being that it was past 3am, everyone was already lit, & I'd just ran into them at a gay bar; I sensed they were looking for more than just some after-party drinks, said my goodbyes, and jumped in a cab home.

My liver hates me.

Post V-Day

(sigh) Is it possible that the day AFTER Valentine's day has actually been worse than the actual holiday?!
I feel like I have an emotional hangover from just keeping the mask up all day.

There's only 2 people at work that know about the break-up right now & I'm trying to keep it that way.
So, naturally, EVERYONE who thinks MM & I are still together managed to ask me things like "Soooo, what are YOUR big plans for tonight"...all day long.

The ironic thing was that I could answer them all honestly by saying things like "It won't be much different than year's past" (MM=not a guy to go out of his way to do anything romantic) or simply say "Painting."

Oh, yeah, it's been several weeks since my last post; and in that vast amount of time I've began finally painting the walls of the house...a year and a half later. It's one more of those annoying to-do-itches at that back of my brain, that I'm trying to scratch (sort of like the thresholds). Additionally, It's keeping me busy during a time I value the distraction the most.

I'll post pictures, soon.

In the last few weeks, I've honestly been doing ok.
Not great, but simply ok; which is vast improvement than the entire month of January.

I've mostly finished re-arranging furniture to fill the voids, and found a fantastic solid wood desk & old steamer trunk on Craigslist (both steals at $50 & $30 respectively)...because, when I'm sad, impulse bargain-buying always seems to make me feel better.

I've had alittle more time & composure to talk to a few more friends on the phone, recently. I know everyone is curious or concerned, but after awhile I start feeling like a broken record. I had one much-needed  conversation not as much about the break-up but just good ol' catching up on life and ended that call feeling refreshed, invigorated, and reassured that there's someone out there who surfs on my same wavelength.

My mom was down all last weekend, to celebrate her Birthday.
She also needed to come down to see me & confirm that everything was ok. She didn't say that, but I know how her head works & her excessive worrying. I think we both needed that confirmation.
It was a relaxing weekend of long chats, some thrift shopping, eating lots of Chipotle (one of her favorite places!) and me getting her addicted to watching "Sons of Anarchy" on Netflix.

She's managed to call me EVERY SINGLE DAY this week, to give me an update on her progress through the series. She's hooked.

 I realized last night, that being single again after so long, being emotionally vulnerable, and hungry for affection leaves me in an exposed position that seems so foreign & scary to me. Since I'm not dating anyone, I had no flower delivery surprises, dinner reservations, or even someone to just give me a hug; I put my emotional eggs into one basket last night waiting on a text/phone call from another solo friend, that never came.
The kicker is I can't figure out if it was just carelessness, intentional, etc. 
I just hate that the funky head-space it put me in, carried through into some super bizarre dreams, & a cloudy mood today...hence the hangover feeling.

Ugh. Lame.

Thank christ it's Friday, and there's events planned for this weekend that involve good friends & lots of cocktails.

The "Move".

I was prepared for this to get worse, before it gets better.
At least as prepared as you can try to be.

I had my annual performance review on Wednesday, for work. My direct supervisor, Beth, and I have an uncanny amount of things in common. We operate well on a professional level, but occasionally when we're alone in the office we've had long talks about life, relationships, children, etc. She's the one I referred to in my previous post, who broke down to me one day after having the unresolved fight with her husband. To make matters even more eerie, she has 2 children from her first marriage, a relationship very much like the one that MM and I had, and which ended very much like this one is now.
Beth and I had decided to go out to lunch that day to get some food and conduct my performance review. On the way to the restaurant, she asked about MM and I lost it.
I'd previously considered giving her a heads-up to the situation, simply in case transportation to work became an issue; but what came out was an eruption of most everything that's happened, my struggle with the overwhelming guilt for all the destruction I'm causing, and alot of tears. Needless to say, once that faucet was turned on it was hard to turn off. It's nice having someone to talk to that can relate, but at the same time fighting to keep my composure in a professional atmosphere. We made it through the review which was glowing with praise (except for my internet usage) & resulted in me getting a raise, becoming a salaried employee, but still not being added to the "management team". I'm not going to waste time describing that dynamic; but ultimately being on the team is something I really wanted & with emotions already out of control, managed to cry during most of our conversation. My confidence in all things is shaken, and that felt like the rejection-cherry on top of my shit-sundae.

Yesterday was Friday. I had a "Payroll Law 2013" seminar to attend here in town, for work; and MM doesn't have class on Fridays, so he was going to be moving all of his stuff into the studio, which is a fairly large room at the back of the house, with it's own entrance, that prior to this was already packed to the gills with musical equipment.

This decision happened on Tuesday or Wednesday night. I can't remember. The days seem to be melting together into one huge blob of terrible, lately.

Ultimately, with him going to school full-time, and working part-time for RTVS; he doesn't have the money to move into somewhere new right now. Additionally, there are still ALOT of financial ties we have to work out such as cell phones being on a family plan, shared car insurance, me still not having a car for my own transportation to and from work, our lease, etc...

I feel like I'm in a delicate balancing act of trying to make this as smooth of transition as possible, trying to work with him emotionally & financially until he can get on his feet, & falling back into my old habits of being an enabler and codling him.

I know in the scheme of things, it's better off we were never married. Much less cost, pain, and legal bullshit to deal with. If I wasn't already turned off by the idea of marriage before, I think I certainly am now.

What conversations we've had over the last few days have been whispered sentences & words choked on by tears.

I wish I could find the words to describe MM as the man I know. Most people see his strong, hard exterior, but miss alot of the complexities & tenderness I've worked so hard to burrow into for the last decade. Witnessing his unraveling and knowing it's at my own doing is a heavy guilt to carry.

I still haven't talked about this to any of our friends, but I wish he would. He needs to reach out to the people who love him and can offer him support, but I'm conflicted as to whether it's my job, yet, to alert them to the fact. He has very "surface" type relationships with alot of people & even most of his family, and it worries me that he will continue to shut them out during this time when he needs them most, whether he knows it or not.

By the time he had to pick me up from the seminar, yesterday, he'd moved the majority of his stuff into the studio. Here's a hint to anyone not having experienced a break-up-move-out like this; steer clear of the house, until they're done. Most of my life has been documented through photography, so it only seemed fitting to document this moment, where vacancies now existed & ghosts of belongings seem to linger...

What was the first thing I found to busy myself, while he collected and organized what's left of his life? I stained and varnished wood.

Thinking back about that moment, I realize I have strange coping mechanisms.

To explain, (the wood, not my mechanisms) some previous tenant of this house had a dog that they would shut into rooms of the house. In an effort to get out, the dog dug at the carpet at the bottom of the door, shredding those areas of the two upstairs bedroom's carpet. Our original landlord, being the piece of shit that she was, put over-sized pieces of raw wood over the frayed carpet, that act as huge thresholds; instead of just replacing the carpet. We rented the house sight-unseen when we moved from CA, so it was just one of the quirks we dealt with. The problem was that because the wood was unfinished, years of foot traffic over those pieces of wood had left them disgustingly dingy & a previous tenant's kid had drawn on them w/ sharpie in a few places. It's always been alittle nagging "to-do" in the back of my brain, and apparently, yesterday, when I was unsure what to do with myself and the state of disarray in the house; that was one thing I could control & fix when all else seemed broken. So, I went to work sanding, staining, and varnishing the monster thresholds.


With that item checked off my list I dusted, vacuumed, and got to work organizing & re-arranging things in an effort to fill the voids.

At one point, once I heard the rustling downstairs drawing to a close, I wandered down to check on him. I'm unclear if my presence & efforts to make this a functional roommate situation are doing more harm than good.

At one point, he sat on his end table and cried.

He said he didn't know whether to mad or sad. That he didn't know what he was going to do. That all he wanted to do was "fix this" (us). That all he had in the world was crammed into this room. That he found a futon mattress on CL that he was going to look at in an hour. That he had 5 assignments due on Monday that he couldn't even focus on starting. And that he didn't even have a place to hang his clothes.

These things were all expressed over the span of long pauses, many cigarettes, and alot of tears.

Should I have fought my natural instinct to hug him and tell him everything would be ok? I didn't. I couldn't.

I told him to go look at the futon; and while he did that, I cleaned out the coat closet under the stairs, did some much needed spackling to a truly ghetto drywall fix (another preexisting flaw from when we moved in) at the back of the closet, and vacuumed.  I closed the night by throwing together vat of chicken and noodles that we could both eat on. It has been a week of restless sleep & little appetites for both of us; and after the physical exhaustion of the in-house migration of belongings, I figured we could both use a hearty meal. I ate mine upstairs, alone & dozed off soon afterward.

Yesterday was so long and exhausting, I actually woke up today and thought it was Sunday, because it felt like I'd crammed a weekend of work into one day.

I still have the craft room and the bar area to clean/organize, but most things are in order upstairs.

Along the same lines as my above-mentioned mechanisms, is my intense focus on getting the tangible things in order first, knowing my emotional/mental closet is ready to dump on my head the moment I open the door. I recognize this is my way of dealing with things. Compartmentalize & break things down into tasks that can be accomplished by means of working toward the bigger goal.

One of the big ticket items is still finding & purchasing a vehicle. I am/was of the mindset that this may very well be a vehicle that I'll be paying on for years to come, so I've focused my energies on pricing out a crew cab truck. I mechanic-minded friend of mine is advising me to go with a Toyota Tacoma-type due to their reliability and longevity. Decent gas mileage, ability to haul shit, and safe space to hopefully one day put a child's car seat; are factoring into my search criteria.


I just took a break from writing to check out the Habitat ReStore for a desk (I agreed to give MM the desk & desktop PC, which he moved into the studio, last night) and on my way back, stopped at the bank to inquire about my chances/options for a car loan. Being very frank about my frightful credit history & my need to address past debts, they admitted that my chances for getting an outright loan were non-existent, and chances of getting what they call a secured loan (pulling funds from my life insurance policy to put into a savings account, to borrow against in an effort to better my credit) were slim-to-none.

It's looking like my only option now is to pull directly from the life insurance policy, the money I need for a vehicle; and start contacting my creditors (also deeply buried in that closet of denial) to start making payment arrangements to get things in order and paid off...(sigh)

MM & I still need to sit down and break down finances, figuring out who's going to pay what to whom, monthly. I'm dreading this, but know it needs to happen in order for me to visually be able to make and visualize MY finances.

I desperately want to start painting the walls. Literally. Something about a fresh coat of paint signifies a fresh start, a new outlook, and an good makeover for the current scuffed, nicked, matte/glossy mixture of beige that have lived on these walls since we moved in.

For now, I see the stacks of totes and other clutter looming at me from the craft room. This is where I deposited most of the shit from the closet last night, which only added to the mess that was already there.

For now, this is something I can fix & feel a sense of accomplishment when I'm done.

For now, I need to give MM his space downstairs to get himself in order.

For now, I will remind myself it will get worse before it gets better; and to be strong.

Things will be ok.
 

MLK Break-Up

My desire to share only the fun, upbeat aspects of my life, in hopes that others can share their experiences in return, offer guidance in response to some of my "life by trial and error" type of posts, and with the mindset that those readers wouldn't follow this blog to read gloomy posts; is beginning to loose out to my need to simply get my thoughts out into this universe. This isn't a drastic change of tone for my audience...since I really have no "audience".

This is me. Truly me. No Gemini Gypsy facade, tonight.

My name is Casey and I am ending a decade-long relationship with someone I care for more than any words typed, written, spoken, or carved in stone; could possibly express.

I'm crying because I'm sad and equally scared.

Sad, because I see the pain in his eyes every time he looks at me. His inability to understand why I don't/can't try to "work this out" shatters me.

Scared, because I've never faced this world truly alone. I know, I know; I'm not alone if I take into consideration the love and support of my family & friends (most of whom don't even know any of this is happening) But truly alone, in the sense that my "life partner", the man who's had my back and loved me unconditionally for 10 years; will probably soon, come to a point where he detests me for the pain I've caused him. Co-dependency is a bitch.

Why, you may ask? I'm trying to prepare myself an abridged version of this answer, and have yet to come up with anything that truly encompasses my reasons. The lamest version I've conjured is "I need space to find 'me'". It seems lame to say it and hear it; but I feel it.

Break-ups are rarely "easy", but easier to justify in my mind, if there is that one BIG event/issue that is the catalyst.  This one feels like a bag of grapes. Lots of my little doubts, emotions, feelings, etc. that are explosive at the slightest pinch, yet were left ignored by me & unattended by him; for so long that they spoiled.

I dread the moment that he changes his status on Facebook....(sigh) That seems ridiculous to say, too; but maybe it's because I've never experienced a break-up in the 'social media age'. Will it post to his timeline "Broke Up With By The Selfish Bitch" with a link to my wall? I have anxiety about tons of people asking "OMG, what happened?!" more out of nosy gossip, than out of true concern.

I had moment of clarity, when my co-worker was upset & crying about a fight she'd had with her husband, that they hadn't been able to talk out yet. The details seemed so familiar to me, because I'd lived them. I think many of us have. The only key piece of advice I had to offer her was to not allow his silence to become her silence. Be sure to talk it out.
MM & I had a big hiccup in our relationship about 5 years ago & after that we agreed not to fight all the time, like we used to. Somehow this morphed into not fighting at all, which turned into not having those intimate relationship talks that are necessary to ensure you are aware of your partner and the state of your relationship with that person.

It had been nearly two years since our last deep heart-to-heart conversation. I'd been trying to sort out my thoughts/feelings for months. Wondering if my surges of panic & sadness about the state of our relationship were directly related to the surges of hormones with my cycle. Was I being deceived about the state of my life, by the very innards that create life? Was it just my biological clock making me feel like a lunatic? I battled with this for a looong time. Finally, I came to the conclusion that these feelings were definitely amplified , but not imagined.  Those doubts existed, I'd just done a stellar job of tying a bolder to their ankle and kicking them into the river; in an effort to keep the day-to-day surface of the water calm & peaceful.
About a week or so before Christmas, I spewed my plume of doubts/concerns, like Mt. Vesuvius. I explained many of my tangible reasons I thought we weren't working (this is a long list of grapes) which summarized, amounted to the fact that I didn't see our "end game"  or our "happily ever after". Our life-goals don't sync up. Or rather, my life goals don't sync with his lack of them & those I perceive him having. The fact that we're in this relationship, yet there's so much of my life that I'm alone. I envision my happily ever after with someone who wants to share in the joys of having a family with me and a home/farm with me, and REALLY participating in those things because they want them, too. I can think of one time in the last year and half that he's visited my family, with me. Our communication, as partners, is epically terrible. There's other stuff, too, but you get the idea. This is when I said the words..."I love you, but I don't think I'm IN love with you anymore."

I think I'd made up my mind by that point that I needed space to re-evaluate my life, but that was not a decision to take lightly. For the sake of both of our hearts.


I left a couple days later to spend the week of Christmas with my mom & the rest of the family. The snow-storm of the year decided to roll in the day after Christmas, so my friend Greta and I headed back south Christmas night. That was the night of what I'll call "Phase II". This was the conversation that consisted mostly of Tyler's responses to my concerns. Reassurances that there was a happily ever after. I agreed to consider these things, and see where alittle time got us.


The following/last month has been filled with emotional peaks and valleys for me. I've made efforts to work on my resolutions. To find joy & happiness in new experiences, in effort to repair things within me that feel broken. Hoping desperately, that would transcend into a new-found  outlook on our relationship.
On the other hand, I know he's been miserable. He makes efforts to show me affection, tells me he loves me; things I find myself teetering on the verge of caving into because I do love him & I desperately crave some sort of affection; but feel like responding to that would only be temporary gratification. Not a solution to the bigger problem.


Today, I took a partial vacation day & just spent the day by myself. I camped at Starbucks for awhile, shopped for a new pair of tennis shoes, and went to go see 'Silver Linings' at the theater. I realized I didn't want to be at home because he had the day off from school for MLK day; and I was avoiding the situation. Tonight, he told me he can't live like this anymore. We either need to make efforts to work on repairing "us" or call it quits. It has been like living in an awkward limbo, the last month. I've felt frozen with fear & doubt; while still trying to iron out the best method of action & least pain for both of us. All the while, creating more devastation. I ripped the band-aide the rest of the way off tonight, and told him I thought I should move out, then. After several long pauses & painful exchanges of glances, he said he would be the one to move because of the financial aspect of things.

I think my head is going to explode. Ibuprofen has done little to cure the splitting headache and flood of thoughts behind my eyes.

The weirdest thing, was that with all of the emotion of tonight, I didn't cry. All of this has left me feeling so emotionally drained and calloused, that it wasn't until hours afterward that the waterworks started. Maybe the realization and fear took over.

He's downstairs, clearly not wanting to be around me; and I'm upstairs sitting in the dark, emotions somewhat composed on the exterior, typing this tale of woe as a way to just get some of this shit OUT of my head.

In a moment of uncanny, yet cosmic timing; a dear friend from LA just sent a text that said "I miss you".
So much for the exterior composition...I miss you, too.

Lucky '13

We're 2 weeks into our new year, so it seemed fitting to finally put my growing list of new year resolutions into print.

That seems to make them more concrete, doesn't it?

These are in no particular order of importance & some of them intermingle with others, so try to follow me, if you can...Let's get started!

1. Get in shape - This is a cliche resolution. I get it. But it's a goal & I've got to start somewhere. Let me just say to the 99% of people who would look at me & roll their eyes, that lucking out with good genes (though, I appreciate being thin); does not translate into good health & muscle tone. The home work-outs are going ok, but I need to make them a daily routine. Currently, I'm only averaging about 1x a week.

2. Volunteer - Last year, was a good start to this goal. I signed up for several volunteer opportunities through Parks & Rec, stage managed one of the venues for the Lotus World Music Festival, & began helping a small group of folks set up a non-profit organization to provide therapeutic arts programs to disadvantaged youth & eventually the mentally ill. My goal is to keep up this level of volunteer work throughout the year, this year. The non-profit is taking alot of my volunterring-focus as of late, so hopefully once that gets off the ground I won't be as tied up with the administrative side of things, and have more time to focus on the hands-on stuff.

3. Try new things - Broad category, huh? It's intentional. My first endeavor for 2013 was to sign up for an aerial silks class at a local rec center. My class was last Friday & I liked it so much I bought 6 more classes!
Not only does this particular activity serve this resolution in a broad sense; it's also a creative, social, and physical outlet for me.

4. Buy a vehicle of my own - I listed this in one of my previous entries & intend on accomplishing it this year. I've taken the initial steps necessary to make this happen. I've opened my own bank account (for the first time in 10 years) and set up my direct deposit to automatically deposit a nice chunk from each paycheck into the account. Ideally, I'd like to buy a truck, though not always the most gas-efficient (which is important to me), but I still have hopes of buying the "Shively Homestead" sooner rather than later, and figure I might as well purchase a truck that will be able to serve me for years to come.

5. Truly focus on me - I've been in that same "weird head-space" I mentioned a few posts back, for several months now. Without going into painstaking detail here (mainly, because I'm not ready to divulge details on here, yet) it has alot to do with internal & personal conflicts. Things I want for my future/myself that are in direct conflict with where I am at 31 years old. Taking steps to rectify some of those things have been heart-wrenching and are (realistically) going to get worse before they get better. Keeping my focus and not getting derailed with emotion, is what I'm working on.

6. Fight mediocrity - There is a certain comfort in routine, but don't get swallowed by it.

7. Go to the dentist - because I need to go.

8. Go to the crotch doctor - I'm slightly overdue for a check-up and need to get off my ass/pussy and make an appointment for that, too. 

9.  Go to the dog doctor - While I'm on this train of thought, I really need to take Trixy for a check-up, too. Lucky gal, Vet's are the all-in-one variety...

10. Guns - It's a real hot topic lately, huh? Well, that's not why. This has been on my to-do list for YEARS & I have yet to do it. I say "guns" because this topic encompasses proper gun-safety training & eventually target practice. My goal is to know about them, understand them, and conquer the anxiety I feel about them.

11. Research, Research, Research - Read everything I can get my hands on about the homesteading skills I hope to one day put into practice. Also, make better practice of documenting my methods, trials, & errors.

....this list is still a work in progress, so I'll leave off here, for now, and post any updates as they come available!

Wanna share your resolutions? I'd love to hear them!