Season of Misery

April 1st

Words fail me. At least that’s what happens when I experience any intense emotionally charged situation. I have started writing in this book of empty pages (let’s go with “journal”) at the suggestion of my therapist as a means of not completely losing it. As a white female of 32 years being therapized by a white male of roughly 60 years or age, I have a feeling this will go well.

Not a pointless exercise at all.

Jamie said they don’t have to be long entries, no guidelines or expectations. I just need to start writing and see where that takes me. Here goes nothing is the phrase that comes to mind. I'm dreading this. My thoughts are going to be all over the place like… (I was going to come up with a clever analogy to appear all smart and intellectual. Then I remembered no one is reading this except myself).

April 2nd

Will my mind ever be free of doubt? I do believe in questioning everything despite the inevitable exhaustion it brings. Constantly questioning unfortunately creates the feeling that peace is unattainable. You are unable to accept anything being irrefutable and have great difficulty being comfortable in any relationship; enter (drumroll) my life. My intentional wandering is beginning to weigh heavily. The battle for myself is neverending. Good news, ever since the divorce I no longer feel as though I’m being torn in two. Now it is all an internal battle, fighting myself for me. God, the drama! Hopefully my life turns out to be a comedy and not a tragedy.

On a side note, Eric is back in the area and staying with me while he finds living arrangements. Woohoo for me. I am going to have so much fun being stuck in a 500 square foot apartment with my ex. There are many ways of figuring out what a prick some people are but no way more potent than being married to that prick for 6 years. But I owe him so there it is.

As if I wasn’t going mad enough being out of work on workman’s comp.

April 3rd

Just spent the afternoon with my sister and her kids. I can't stand children. It's true, no matter what people in my life tell me. Sure, I somewhat enjoy being with my nieces and nephews for certain lengths of time here and there, but that is only because there is an end in sight. Once my allotted time is up, boom, I can hand them back; they are not mine for eternity. The cute bundles of noise can rub their germs and bodily fluids on their parents. If I had to stick with them forever that would not be pretty. Yeah, the more I observe my siblings in their new parental roles, the more I fall into the “I will never be mother, slap me and burn me if I ever say differently” crowd. I’m happy with being the cool and hopefully very rich aunt. Yes, that is what I want my official label to be. Anna is the fun/crazy aunt, I am the cool/rich aunt. Whether naturally or self-induced my maternal instincts are mostly nonexistent and I am okay with that.

April 4th

Eric arrived in one piece with no disasters thus far. It’s weird seeing him in the flesh after all this time. The flirtation definitely increases with proximity on both our parts, thank you amicable divorce. I don’t know what to expect from this temporary situation. I suppose I’ll have to really milk the back injury and play the invalid card as often as I can. I don’t know how smart it was agreeing to host him while I’m jobless and in physical therapy but at this point it is a welcome distraction. I’m sure I will come to regret this decision.

Hopefully not, because I hate having regrets.

April 5th

Can exes be friends? Just friends, more specifically. Can I just be friends with Eric? I am friends with him. I have been friends with him for the last 7 years. Eh, I feel it is difficult or at the very least uncommon. Maybe I just have no idea how to relate to people when it comes to sex and sexual attraction. It’s so hard to stay focused on emotional aspects of a relationship when I feel attraction. Ultimately I suppress everything and end up letting the other person do the heavy lifting. I pride myself on honesty and forthrightness and yet it is so difficult being honest with myself. I mean, I was upfront about not wanting kids from the beginning of our relationship and yet it did me no good in the end. Although in that situation I would say the blame is almost entirely on him. He said he understood and could accept that and I believed him, despite my skepticism which turned out to be justified. I don’t know where this very deep seated mistrust originated, nor do I know how to quell it enough to have meaningful relationships.

I understand nothing, least of all myself. The more I try to understand, the less I understand. And that pattern has yet to break.

April 6th

I’ve missed conversations with Eric. He and I have a similar line of questioning and conversing that is a rare commodity nowadays. I’ve been fortunate to have quality conversation ingrained as an expectation rather than a privilege throughout my life. Already our time together is reminding me of things I hate about him and myself though. I don’t like that I have to think first before identifying my emotion when someone asks how I feel. He seems incapable of accepting that and always presumes what I am feeling, making me doubt myself and what I am feeling. Jamie would say this is a learned mechanism in my efforts to be stoic and suppress anything that threatened a stable environment. I suppose for a long time I associated emotions with instability and insecurity. Don’t know why I am writing in past tense, those habits have not as yet changed. I still have great difficulty dealing with conflict in any form. One of the many problems with my marriage was that I never fought with Eric. Everything stayed inside like a soda can, shaken every single day for 6 years. Then that soda can was punctured by a knife, sharp and very heavy I might add.

I worry any and all emotions I feel will be so repressed that I’ll be swallowed from the inside out like a black hole. Why am I so averse to being honest with myself? Have I learned nothing?

April 7th

Why am I uncomfortable farting in public? I couldn’t fall asleep for a long time last night because of this question. I don’t have any issues with belching, sneezing loudly, or talking about every taboo and ugly topic under the sun. Perhaps it comes with the insecurity of not knowing whether odor and/or feces will follow, like russian roulette. You don’t really have that uncontrollable aspect with the other things. If I could change anything about my brain I’d have difficulty between choosing the ability to never be embarrassed or the ability to never feel fear. Wait, is embarrassment just a form of fear?! Damn, I just thought of that! Such a genius!

April 8th

I thought menstruating in and of itself was miserable enough but combine it with a bulging disc and you have a duet of pure misery. Add being out of work, having your ex staying at your place, and global politics being the monkey business of an ape run circus and you have a proper orchestra of despondence. I fail to see how life could improve.

There is nothing like a physical injury to put you in a never ending roller coaster ride of existential dread.

April 9th

Feel like this is a waste of time. But so is watching TV shows for 12 hours a day.

April 12th

I know I haven’t been writing every day but I suppose something is better than nothing. Take what you can get, Jamie.

April 16th

I wish I was funny. I don’t mean making snarky, well timed comments on the side like a nut gallery (I like to think my gallery consists of more than peanuts). I can manage that just fine. My theory is there are two types of people in this world, entertainers and those that need to be entertained. I find myself in the latter group, not by choice mind you. Entertainers have comedy and drama flowing from their every pore and find more satisfaction in making others laugh over their need to laugh. Entertainees have a need to laugh that exceeds average levels. I personally think the majority of men are funnier than women. Obviously there are exceptions to this categorization. I dislike admitting it but Eric is funnier than I. Most people are, actually. I can be witty but that’s slightly different. Sarcasm is where I excel. Still being funny is a gift of which I am particularly envious.

April 18th

So I met Eric’s “friend” today. Not on purpose, mind you. Just answered the door before Eric, who coincidentally was using the loo and didn’t manage to finish quickly enough. I’ve no idea how she got my address. But clearly from the way Eric cleared the bathroom (as though someone was running him down with a chainsaw) it was not planned and he had not told her he was staying with his ex.

Must be fairly new.

She seemed nice. My guess, probably 9ish years older than him per his usual taste. From the few short words I exchanged with her before Eric frantically arrived on scene I already sensed a whiff of his usual taste.

I honestly have no idea how Eric and I ended up together. We are extremely different while at the same time weirdly similar. It made the likelihood of us staying together and separating equally likely. I am 5 years younger than him, fiercely independent to a fault, very unwilling to ever ask for help, sexually dominant, and have a talent for emotional repression. Prior to meeting me, Eric only dated women older than him with a tendency towards unhealthy emotional dependency, sexually submissiveness, and would make him feel as though he needed to protect them. I think he enjoys the drama and enjoys feeling masculine. Yet he was very insistent on preferring strong and independent women when we talked about it. And like any idiot succumbed to pheromones and endorphins, I believed him.

April 19th

Sheep eyes are the creepiest thing I have ever seen. I just spent the last hour on google looking at montages of funny sheep videos and just realized what a mistake that was. My dreams will forever be haunted.

April 24th

Fought with Eric. Don’t know if you could even categorize it as a fight but it’s more than we ever had in our marriage. I don’t know how to fight with people, least of all people I care about. Caring about them makes it much more difficult. The subject of kids came up again and not in a good way. I don’t know if we can ever talk about kids in a good way, seeing as it was the reason behind our divorce. I honestly can’t even remember the comment I made to have him react the way he did. He blew up, started yelling, said a bunch of cruel things, even threw a book against the wall. I sat on the bed trying to hold everything in. He probably could see me physically shaking, attempting not to lose control. The whole thing lasted probably 5 minutes. From the bedroom doorway he finished his rant by telling me I still had feelings for him and that I would end up dying alone with stubborness as my only companion. After that he left the room. I was mostly speechless through the whole thing, failing yet again to find the words to express myself. Unable to truly speak, lest my emotions overtake me and I say something I wouldn’t be able to unsay.

April 25th

Really don’t feel like writing. These two sentences suffice.

April 28th

Eric left. Wish I could say it is a relief but our unresolved fight hangs about like that uncomfortable feeling stuck in your sock that you can’t find but keeps bothering you. Despite my best efforts, I cannot rid myself of the pain.

Fuck this shit.

April 29th

How am I this weak? Did I somehow passively choose weakness over strength? I don’t know what I had with Eric but whatever it was makes me feel as though I am broken beyond repair and leaves me doubting everything. No more black and white, just a sea of gray. I swear I’ll die alone because of my excessive doubt and distrust. In my desire to be seen as strong I weaken myself. I spout ridiculous nonsense about not caring what people think of me, yet if they think I am weak/feminine/stupid I lose myself. I do everything in my power to prove them wrong. I try to appear intelligent, diligent, not lazy. But what am I when no one is watching? Is my perception of myself so far from reality that it has become the exact opposite? Or am I simply believing I am what I want to be? Does believing I am who I want to be make me who I want to be? Do I have that power or is it an illusion?

I can’t even tell my ex I’m still in love with him because I care more about not losing than being with him! And no, my life isn’t that kind of movie where everything seems hopeless until some big event reconciles the two broken people and they live happily ever! I can’t actually let go of my pride and fear long enough to be open. I don’t predict a happy ending.

Am I cut out to handle life? What the fuck am I doing to myself?