I'm the type of gal who has rules. Lots and lots of rules about different aspects of my life; most of the rules no one even knows about but me. Sometimes men, sometimes broken relationships, life experiences... sometimes these call for new rules that one can clearly see should have been in place sooner. Or rather, had the rule been in place sooner, this situation could have been avoided. Sorta like the NTSB.
This new rule has come about based on my ex's inability to comprehend when he reads. I knew he wasn't a reader before we got together in that I knew he was not a consumer of books and magazines. But I certainly figured he could read. We'd been together about a year and half when we decided to install a garage door opener. I didn't know it was a two person project so I was thinking he'd just do it by himself but when I went out to check on him after he'd been working for, oh, an hour or so, I could see that he was frustrated and things were not going well. "I don't see how this piece connects," he spit out when I asked how it was going. "Well," I asked innocently enough, "Where's the manual? What page are you on?" Clearly disgusted and seeing the act of reading the manual as a weakness, he had no idea. So I found it and started at the beginning and soon discovered that in one part he was totally ahead of himself and he had to undo this dealie and unhook that cable so as to hook this thingamig over the end of that part and he hadn't even used these black things yet, but they clearly needed to go on before you get to where he thought he was at.
So he dissassembled and I read the manual and showed him what came next and together we were a good team and we got that garage door opener installed!
Eventually we moved into a different home and in this home we experienced a series of unfortunate events that led to the installation of our second garage door opener.
It all started when he bought the snowmobile. He bought it for dirt cheap, used of course, but it worked! Well, pretty much anyway. I guess it would be more accurate to say it didn't take too much work to make it work. But he did the work. In the garage. And when he was finally all done with the work, he started it up to see if it was functional or not. But, see, he did that with the throttle full on and the good news was that it was fully functional! The bad news was that with the throttle full on, it just took off, on its own, and rammed into our garage door. SMACK!!
And so then we had a hole in the fiberglass. Turns out that our garage door was old enough that they no longer sell replacement panels for it. So he fixed it with duct tape. And it worked well enough and I parked my car in there in the winter and all was well, if not aesthetically pleasing.
Finally, though, that door's motor totally gave out and we reached a point where it had to be replaced. And it was just starting to be winter, too, so I was really needing to be able to put my car in there every night.
We had enough money due an unexpected windfall so we went shopping for a new garage door! Oh, joy, we were going to be so stylin' now. We bought the new door and a motor too. And brought it home. And you will not believe what I did. I said to myself, "Self, I don't feel like working in the cold, cold garage helping him install that door." And I did not. Ok, that's not quite exactly true. I started to help out and I had on warm clothes and everything. But all I was doing was standing there, reading the manual. I got very, very cold and very, very annoyed. Eventually I just left and went inside and took a hot shower and did other things. When I went out to check on him after a while, he was very, very annoyed. But not at me, of course, or even at himself. No, he was annoyed at the garage door opener. It didn't make any sense and it wasn't working out. "Hm," I said and I left to go do things in the house. Not necessarily the best attitude for one to take if one wants their car to be in the garage soon, but I had things to do besides just stand there and watch and read the book to him. Like, you know, be warm.
He did get it to work, sort of. I mean it worked. For a while. And then he decided that the problem was that the motor wasn't big enough. So he went out and bought a replacement motor. And again it worked, for a time. Now he has decided that the problem is that it needs another spring. The door came as a self contained unit, and it's designed to function with one spring. I'm not necessarily saying that it's designed correctly or that everyone else who bought this door got theirs to work with just one spring, but I am saying that when I went to the hardware store to buy the second spring, and showed the guy there my receipt for the door we'd bought, he said, "That door doesn't need two springs." He sold me one anyway because he could see it was going to get ugly if he didn't, but he really didn't want to. He also did not offer to come to my house and make it work, though.
Now, of course, there's another part I need if I want it to work, because the spring doesn't just install to itself, you know. It needs a winder. And I know that guy at the hardware store knew that too, and purposefully didn't tell me because of his insistence that my door didn't need a second spring and my insistence that I was buying one anyway. But this is not about that guy. No. It's about the other guy who also didn't tell me to buy the winder while I was picking up the spring.
So now here's my situation. It's July, so I can park outside and that's cool. But winter's coming. I have a garage door that won't open and an extra spring. I need a winder dealie but I have to go to the big city for that, and I will, I just don't go there often. Unlike my ex, who drives to and from the big city pretty much every weekend to see his new squeeze. I asked him if he'd just stop in to the store while he was there and pick one up since he knows exactly what to get and I don't and (der) this is his project and he needs to finish it. Ok, I didn't actually say that last part but he and I were both thinking it. He said he would do that but it's been weeks now and he hasn't so I guess he didn't mean it.
Saying you'll do things you don't mean to do and making promises you don't mean to keep are issues for another day but let's just say I'm not surprised and not even really disappointed anymore. Just frustrated. Why? Because buying this part will go just like buying the spring did, only worse, because I'll have to find a way to explain what I need to the guy and he'll need to explain to me why I don't need it and I'll have to be polite enough to get him to show me which part it is anyway while I endure his partronizig lecture on how my garage door "should" work. Being a bitch to him because I'm frustrated about this entire situation won't help anyone and it certainly won't help me find my part, will it? grr.
So anyway, as a result of all this, I have a new rule. And it is: In the future, I will not be the only person in the relationship who can read. Too harsh?
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
The Saga of the Boat
In this neck of the woods, there are two kinds of fishing. Summer fishing and ice fishing. Ice fishing is a pretty easy sport and although of course a person can spend plenty of money, tons of money, on gear and specialized equipment, on a nice day in January any yahoo can cross his fingers and drive his vehicle onto the lake, drill a couple holes and toss a line in.
Summer fishing consists of shore fishing, which, like ice fishing, any yahoo can do on a nice day, and boat fishing. Boat fishing requires a boat.
It seems at first, as you get acquainted with the sport, that a boat really isn't necessary to fish. What the heck, you ask, is wrong with doing what all those other guys right there are doing, standing on the shore? They seem to be catching fish. Now, let me just say right now that there is none of that fancy-ass fly fishing done around here, the kind where you see the guy in his waders, walking up a creek, constantly casting out and reeling in, over and over. We don't have those kind of fish in these waters. We're fishing for walleye, mostly, but also perch and crappies, not trout.
Now, you can catch walleye, perch and crappies from shore. It can be done. But it's usually done by elbowing into a space between two other guys, getting just enough room for your lawn chair, and trying to keep your line from crossing theirs. And that's after you find a place to park and schlep all your gear over. Unless of course you own some land along the shore of a lake. But even then, if you're fishing from shore, all your bait does once you cast it out is .... hang there. You've rigged your gear up so that it's dangling from your floating bobber, sure, so it's hanging there dangling, but it's hard to really even jig it when you're shore fishing.
Ice fishing is a jigging sport since you're standing right over your hole and you can interact with your line anytime you like, just give it a quick upward pull, real quick, makes your bait look more like... fish food I guess. And you can also jig from a boat. But from shore? Not really. Just a minnow laying there looking, well, less like fish food.
If you have a boat, you can escape the land-less rabble and go anywhere on the lake you like, although guys still seem to cluster if they think there's a spot where others are actually catching fish. And if you do spend a while trolling a lake only to find a really hot spot where the perch are just biting a mile a minute, with a boat you can anchor in that exact spot and just sit there and catch fish!
The point is, if you're going to be a "real" fisherman in these parts, you need to have a boat. If you don't, you're just some yahoo.
It all started when my brother decided to get married in Europe. Well, that's not quite true, it really started when my ex was a kid. He'd known ever since he was young that he needed to own a boat to better enjoy fishing. If there's one thing that man likes to do, it is fish. He could fish all day, every day and he'd be annoyed that he had to sleep. So, see, he knew he needed a boat long before we ever even met.
But it didn't look like it would really happen until I got my brother's wedding invitation. He was to be married in Europe and of course I couldn't miss that. I love to travel, I love Europe, my parents were going, couldn't miss my brother's wedding....I was so excited to go. I tried to talk my ex into coming along but he would have none of it. He had no passport, no money, no vacation time... why would he want to go?
Now here's the deal. I knew I could afford to go, but I felt guilty about it. This was, of course, back in the days when I was still very actively trying to think of us as a team. And the perverse part was, he didn't even want to go. And I was still consumed with guilt to spend that much just on me, no matter whose money it was. The obvious answer, of course, was to spend that much on him too, and make things even. So I bought him a boat.
It was a sweet 16 foot Lund with a 35 horse Johnson, perfect for fishing. It wasn't the kind of boat you're ever going to pull some kid with on his tube, but it can putt along nice and slow on all the lakes around here. Well, it can once you get a trolling motor. Yes, accoutrements were soon necessary and the ex fixed up the boat. He replaced the flooring and made all the lights work. And for a time, we were happy. He fished all the time and I went along sometimes. It was a good boat. And there is nothing as peaceful, really, as being out on the lake all alone in your little boat when the water's as smooth as glass and the sun's setting... it was good boat.
But then things changed and it started to look like a small boat. A simple boat. The boat, perhaps, of a poor person. I'm not sure exactly, but one day it was no longer good enough. It still worked just great but needed to be replaced with a faster, shinier, nicer boat that would hold more people and could even, perhaps, pull along teens in tubes! And guess what? He'd seen just the boat along the side of the road for sale. So he sold his boat and got a loan to buy a new boat.
Now this new boat was much larger and cost much more. He went to work right away on this boat, same as he had with the first boat, replacing the floors, recarpeting, making all the gadgets work, installing rod holders... customizing it and making it his. And pretty soon he took it out on the lake. And.... dang... the motor didn't quite work right. He barely got back to the boat dock without getting stranded on the lake! And that is when it began. He took it to the shop and they looked at it, charged him a pile of money and it still didn't run right. Or, I should say it ran ok, it just wouldn't idle. And then it wouldn't start back up again. He took it to the shop again. It was a frustrating series of events: they'd tinker with it, he'd take it out, it wouldn't idle right, he'd barely make it to the dock, he'd take it back to the shop, they'd tinker with it... over and over until one time he came home with the news that they now knew what was wrong with it. And he could have them fix it over the winter and it would be $1,500 or he could try to fix it himself or he could just sell it.
Since he couldn't afford to get it fixed and didn't really know how to tinker with it, he decided to put it up for sale, with the caveat that he'd tell who ever went to buy it what the deal was. That poor boat. I never did even get to go out in it. It didn't get to pull kids on tubes, it barely even got to go fishing. It didn't see happy groups of people, as was intended. Well a time or two it may have, but it was for sale more than anything. It sat on the lot but people really aren't that interested in buying a boat that needs work. Even if it is a deal, and it wasn't. The ex couldn't afford to sell it too cheap because he "had a lot into it," what with the outrageous purchase price and the new floors and all. At least he finally got the loan paid off, so then all he had to get if he sold it was a decent price, he didn't have to cover any debts.
Eventually he paid the boat shop guys more money to fix the motor, and it ended up being a lot less than they'd said it would be and he got it so it ran fine. He kept trying to sell it, though, which I thought was just bizarre. I mean, for a long time he'd made payments on this boat and then he'd paid a lot to fix it... use it already!! Wasn't that the point?
He found a buyer for it finally, just after we broke up. He got way less for it than he had insisted he "had" to get. But at that point, he needed the money because he owed me for the computer "we" gifted his son as a graduation present two months after we broke up and he had to find a place to live and stuff like that. And by "and stuff like that," apparently, I mean "buy a big screen tv," because that is what he did when he sold his boat. He sold it and bought a giant-ass big screen tv. He did not find a place to live, make a first and last month's payment, he did not pay me back for the kid's computer that he had insisted he would pay for. Eventually. And he didn't even pay down his visa. Nope. He bought himself a big screen tv.
And like everything, there's a funny twist at the end. He's gone now, living on his own in some house, paying rent like the rest of us do, with his big screen tv. But he now finds that he can't afford cable. So he has a big ass tv that he gets no reception for. I wonder what he'll sell it for? hm...
Summer fishing consists of shore fishing, which, like ice fishing, any yahoo can do on a nice day, and boat fishing. Boat fishing requires a boat.
It seems at first, as you get acquainted with the sport, that a boat really isn't necessary to fish. What the heck, you ask, is wrong with doing what all those other guys right there are doing, standing on the shore? They seem to be catching fish. Now, let me just say right now that there is none of that fancy-ass fly fishing done around here, the kind where you see the guy in his waders, walking up a creek, constantly casting out and reeling in, over and over. We don't have those kind of fish in these waters. We're fishing for walleye, mostly, but also perch and crappies, not trout.
Now, you can catch walleye, perch and crappies from shore. It can be done. But it's usually done by elbowing into a space between two other guys, getting just enough room for your lawn chair, and trying to keep your line from crossing theirs. And that's after you find a place to park and schlep all your gear over. Unless of course you own some land along the shore of a lake. But even then, if you're fishing from shore, all your bait does once you cast it out is .... hang there. You've rigged your gear up so that it's dangling from your floating bobber, sure, so it's hanging there dangling, but it's hard to really even jig it when you're shore fishing.
Ice fishing is a jigging sport since you're standing right over your hole and you can interact with your line anytime you like, just give it a quick upward pull, real quick, makes your bait look more like... fish food I guess. And you can also jig from a boat. But from shore? Not really. Just a minnow laying there looking, well, less like fish food.
If you have a boat, you can escape the land-less rabble and go anywhere on the lake you like, although guys still seem to cluster if they think there's a spot where others are actually catching fish. And if you do spend a while trolling a lake only to find a really hot spot where the perch are just biting a mile a minute, with a boat you can anchor in that exact spot and just sit there and catch fish!
The point is, if you're going to be a "real" fisherman in these parts, you need to have a boat. If you don't, you're just some yahoo.
It all started when my brother decided to get married in Europe. Well, that's not quite true, it really started when my ex was a kid. He'd known ever since he was young that he needed to own a boat to better enjoy fishing. If there's one thing that man likes to do, it is fish. He could fish all day, every day and he'd be annoyed that he had to sleep. So, see, he knew he needed a boat long before we ever even met.
But it didn't look like it would really happen until I got my brother's wedding invitation. He was to be married in Europe and of course I couldn't miss that. I love to travel, I love Europe, my parents were going, couldn't miss my brother's wedding....I was so excited to go. I tried to talk my ex into coming along but he would have none of it. He had no passport, no money, no vacation time... why would he want to go?
Now here's the deal. I knew I could afford to go, but I felt guilty about it. This was, of course, back in the days when I was still very actively trying to think of us as a team. And the perverse part was, he didn't even want to go. And I was still consumed with guilt to spend that much just on me, no matter whose money it was. The obvious answer, of course, was to spend that much on him too, and make things even. So I bought him a boat.
It was a sweet 16 foot Lund with a 35 horse Johnson, perfect for fishing. It wasn't the kind of boat you're ever going to pull some kid with on his tube, but it can putt along nice and slow on all the lakes around here. Well, it can once you get a trolling motor. Yes, accoutrements were soon necessary and the ex fixed up the boat. He replaced the flooring and made all the lights work. And for a time, we were happy. He fished all the time and I went along sometimes. It was a good boat. And there is nothing as peaceful, really, as being out on the lake all alone in your little boat when the water's as smooth as glass and the sun's setting... it was good boat.
But then things changed and it started to look like a small boat. A simple boat. The boat, perhaps, of a poor person. I'm not sure exactly, but one day it was no longer good enough. It still worked just great but needed to be replaced with a faster, shinier, nicer boat that would hold more people and could even, perhaps, pull along teens in tubes! And guess what? He'd seen just the boat along the side of the road for sale. So he sold his boat and got a loan to buy a new boat.
Now this new boat was much larger and cost much more. He went to work right away on this boat, same as he had with the first boat, replacing the floors, recarpeting, making all the gadgets work, installing rod holders... customizing it and making it his. And pretty soon he took it out on the lake. And.... dang... the motor didn't quite work right. He barely got back to the boat dock without getting stranded on the lake! And that is when it began. He took it to the shop and they looked at it, charged him a pile of money and it still didn't run right. Or, I should say it ran ok, it just wouldn't idle. And then it wouldn't start back up again. He took it to the shop again. It was a frustrating series of events: they'd tinker with it, he'd take it out, it wouldn't idle right, he'd barely make it to the dock, he'd take it back to the shop, they'd tinker with it... over and over until one time he came home with the news that they now knew what was wrong with it. And he could have them fix it over the winter and it would be $1,500 or he could try to fix it himself or he could just sell it.
Since he couldn't afford to get it fixed and didn't really know how to tinker with it, he decided to put it up for sale, with the caveat that he'd tell who ever went to buy it what the deal was. That poor boat. I never did even get to go out in it. It didn't get to pull kids on tubes, it barely even got to go fishing. It didn't see happy groups of people, as was intended. Well a time or two it may have, but it was for sale more than anything. It sat on the lot but people really aren't that interested in buying a boat that needs work. Even if it is a deal, and it wasn't. The ex couldn't afford to sell it too cheap because he "had a lot into it," what with the outrageous purchase price and the new floors and all. At least he finally got the loan paid off, so then all he had to get if he sold it was a decent price, he didn't have to cover any debts.
Eventually he paid the boat shop guys more money to fix the motor, and it ended up being a lot less than they'd said it would be and he got it so it ran fine. He kept trying to sell it, though, which I thought was just bizarre. I mean, for a long time he'd made payments on this boat and then he'd paid a lot to fix it... use it already!! Wasn't that the point?
He found a buyer for it finally, just after we broke up. He got way less for it than he had insisted he "had" to get. But at that point, he needed the money because he owed me for the computer "we" gifted his son as a graduation present two months after we broke up and he had to find a place to live and stuff like that. And by "and stuff like that," apparently, I mean "buy a big screen tv," because that is what he did when he sold his boat. He sold it and bought a giant-ass big screen tv. He did not find a place to live, make a first and last month's payment, he did not pay me back for the kid's computer that he had insisted he would pay for. Eventually. And he didn't even pay down his visa. Nope. He bought himself a big screen tv.
And like everything, there's a funny twist at the end. He's gone now, living on his own in some house, paying rent like the rest of us do, with his big screen tv. But he now finds that he can't afford cable. So he has a big ass tv that he gets no reception for. I wonder what he'll sell it for? hm...
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Dude, you're on your own.
I've always been independent and known that I was not getting married or having kids. Since I was six I've known that. And as I grew up I held nothing but disdain for the women I knew who were so dependent on men. Many people divorced in our small town in the 70's and as I watched all that go down all I could think was, if that ever happens to me, I will make sure ahead of time that I'm fine and you won't see me begging some lame ass to please send the child support or, heaven forbid, alimony!
Now that may seem a bit over the top, but meh, too bad, that's how I thought when I was young. Those attitudes are what helped shape me into the fiercely independent person I am today.
I grew older, went to college. Paid my own way through, dependent on no one but myself. And the kindness of the student loan program.
I had relationships after college but wasn't seeking out anything but equality and independence. Eventually I met my ex and tra la la, we moved in together. Or, should I say, he moved in with me. I owned my own house free and clear when he moved in, which wasn't saying that much since it only cost $7,000, but still. All the bills I had were my monthly utilities and stuff so of course when he moved in with me, it never even occurred to me to charge him rent or anything. I continued to pay the bills I'd always paid and, sigh, now the love of my life lived there too. What more could a gal ask for?
In keeping with my need for independence, which is possibly related to a lack of trust of anyone but me, we lived together but never had any joint accounts. He had his bills and I had mine. He had his checking account and I had mine. We did not discuss this arrangement, and it worked well for the most part. I learned, whenever I considered a joint account, that I did not trust him and I could not do it. I don't trust anyone with my money. I earned it and I'll spend it. grr. We had a joint savings account for a while but it never really had anymore than the required $50 in it.
We moved to Rapid for a bit, he and I, and after a few years of that, we bought this house and moved here. And by "we" I mean I bought this house and we moved in. I chose the house, I made the offer, I did the negotiating with the sellers, I found a way to finance it prior to selling the other house and I made all the monthly mortgage payments. It was that way here, in Rapid and in the first house, the one I owned when we met. I made the majority of all the payments: mortgage, water, sewer, electricity, heat, phone, tv, computer, insurance... you get the picture. But I didn't mind. I was in love and he had obligations. I understood.
When we first met his child support obligation was so totally unrealistically high, it was more than he made. He had the misfortune of having it get set while he was working 40 hours regular time and 40 hours overtime per week. So, sure, during the busy season, it made sense but the rest of the year it was robbery! The horribly high amount was reduced, eventually (thanks to me, the hero!). He also had a payment he made for his truck, and a cell phone payment and the insurance on his truck. So, see, it wasn't like he didn't contribute anything. He just didn't contribute anything to us. But, like I said, I understood. We spoke with breathless rhapsody of how one day, in the future, when his kids were both 18, there would come a day when he would no longer have to pay child support!! And then, then we'd be rich. There were good times a-comin'!!
The good deal about moving here was that although this house cost a bit more than $7,000, it was still relatively cheap so at first my mortgage payment was fairly low and I had a decent job so it was no problem for me to just pay for all the stuff like I always did. At least we had a truck to drive and, honestly? for real? At least he wasn't one of those dads who chose to not work so as to thwart his ex out of getting any help--his child support took up a chunk of his paycheck but it was important. I really did understand.
And then we decided that we should do some remodeling. So we tore some stuff up, bit off way more than we could chew and soon realized that if we were going to really do this project, we would need a lot more money, and in larger chunks than the small bits either of us had leftover after paying bills on payday. So we (I) refinanced the house. Got an appraisal done and it appraised for like twice what we'd paid for it. I ended up getting a lot of money to do things like pay down the VISA and buy a shitload of sheetrock. It upped my mortgage amount but with an interest rate at 4.5% fixed, my payment was still pretty low. So all was well for a while.
But then we needed more money. The VISA was back up there, again, (argh!) and we had decided to install a wood burning stove. We needed a large chunk of cash on hand to pay the plumber and, oh yeah, he needed a fancy snowblower and his kid needed $800 to buy a car. Hm. Ok. So I took out a 2nd mortgage against the equity of our house. It scared me a bit but was within my ability to pay. But I warned him that if "we" did this, I wouldn't have much leftover for groceries or other stuff. "Don't worry," he said, "My truck will soon be paid off and I'll send all that extra money to the 2nd mortgage. Plus!! All the money I make blowing snow I'll send off to that loan too." Wow. Sounded great to me and I could see a light at the end of the tunnel. If he'd really use his extra truck payment money to help, we could have the 2nd paid off in no time! Cool!
So winter came and there was snow to be blown but... there was always something else that the money had to go to. As usual, I understood. The snowblower did need gas, after all, and I could see how he needed some better boots to be out in that weather, and a guy needs to fish, doesn't he? But soon, I told myself, soon the truck will be paid off and then we'll see progress!
Well, eventually the truck did get paid off. And I was ready. I was just tired of never being able to budget any money for clothes or anything for me and ready for him to help me out a bit. And then one day I came home from work and he was all excited. "Guess what?!?" he said, "I bought a Harley!" I was in shock. I had no idea he was even shopping for a bike, a Harley. I just stared at him and twitched a little in my eye as I did the are-you-insane headshake, a mannerism I got from my dad.
The bike was beautiful. He found it from some guy on Craig's list and was to go down and pick it up the next day. I could have started a fight with him, reminded him of his promise to me. I could have tried to forbid it. I could have had any number of negative reactions but as I stood in dumbfounded amazement while he explained to me how this bike, even though it would require a monthly payment, would cost less than the truck had and with what he'd save in gas, this bike was going to save us money!! ... as I listened I had one thought in my mind and it was, "Dude, you're on your own."
I knew as he went on about his pretty blue bike that he would never help me out with any bills. He wasn't going to change now with the extra truck payment money and it'd be no different when his kids grew up and his child support obligation was finally over. I was on my own with anything I signed my name to and he was never going to help. I believe that was the day when I seriously started to shut down. I had had my doubts before that but that day, even though I really didn't know it at the time, was, in my heart, the beginning of the end.
I went to the bank the next day and had a heart to heart talk with the loan lady and, in the end, wrapped my car loan and the 2nd mortgage together. So me and this car? We're in it for the long haul. But at least now I can afford groceries.
Now I could go on and on about the bike, and all the money that got poured into this miracle tool that would save us money!! as he tried just getting it to run. I could talk about how short-sighted I find it to buy any kind of used motorized vehicle without warranties, test drives and mechanical inspections. About how much spark plugs were for it and how few miles it took to foul them out.... but it's not really about the bike, is it? The bike is loud and like every decent Harley, it roars when you rev it up. Seeing him in his sleeveless shirt with his do-rag on, so tan, on his Harley, yeah sure it was sexy. But I never once got to ride on it. I bet he hasn't even put more than 300 miles on it since he got it; he still doesn't even have a motorcycle license!
But this, I believe, is the best part to this story. So, we break up right? And he's still living here, a little short on cash, can't afford his own place just yet. I think by now it's clear that I am perhaps a bit more lenient and understanding than most would be. So he comes home one day, all proud! He has, he tells me, reduced his monthly payment on the bike, and that's a relief because he's got a lot going on, you know. I asked if he'd extended the pay off period by a couple years or what and he said that no, it wasn't that. Suddenly I'm all ears. How on earth does one reduce one's monthly payment without extending the payoff time? Do tell. Easy. He just has to make a balloon payment in a couple years or so. How much? He does not know. Did you catch that? He does not know. He has absolutely no idea what the actual terms are he's just agreed to, he's not sure when the balloon payment is due or how much it is, he just knows that for now his monthly payment is less, and really isn't that all that matters? And in my head, again, only this time, with huge relief and about him: Dude, you're on your own!
Now that may seem a bit over the top, but meh, too bad, that's how I thought when I was young. Those attitudes are what helped shape me into the fiercely independent person I am today.
I grew older, went to college. Paid my own way through, dependent on no one but myself. And the kindness of the student loan program.
I had relationships after college but wasn't seeking out anything but equality and independence. Eventually I met my ex and tra la la, we moved in together. Or, should I say, he moved in with me. I owned my own house free and clear when he moved in, which wasn't saying that much since it only cost $7,000, but still. All the bills I had were my monthly utilities and stuff so of course when he moved in with me, it never even occurred to me to charge him rent or anything. I continued to pay the bills I'd always paid and, sigh, now the love of my life lived there too. What more could a gal ask for?
In keeping with my need for independence, which is possibly related to a lack of trust of anyone but me, we lived together but never had any joint accounts. He had his bills and I had mine. He had his checking account and I had mine. We did not discuss this arrangement, and it worked well for the most part. I learned, whenever I considered a joint account, that I did not trust him and I could not do it. I don't trust anyone with my money. I earned it and I'll spend it. grr. We had a joint savings account for a while but it never really had anymore than the required $50 in it.
We moved to Rapid for a bit, he and I, and after a few years of that, we bought this house and moved here. And by "we" I mean I bought this house and we moved in. I chose the house, I made the offer, I did the negotiating with the sellers, I found a way to finance it prior to selling the other house and I made all the monthly mortgage payments. It was that way here, in Rapid and in the first house, the one I owned when we met. I made the majority of all the payments: mortgage, water, sewer, electricity, heat, phone, tv, computer, insurance... you get the picture. But I didn't mind. I was in love and he had obligations. I understood.
When we first met his child support obligation was so totally unrealistically high, it was more than he made. He had the misfortune of having it get set while he was working 40 hours regular time and 40 hours overtime per week. So, sure, during the busy season, it made sense but the rest of the year it was robbery! The horribly high amount was reduced, eventually (thanks to me, the hero!). He also had a payment he made for his truck, and a cell phone payment and the insurance on his truck. So, see, it wasn't like he didn't contribute anything. He just didn't contribute anything to us. But, like I said, I understood. We spoke with breathless rhapsody of how one day, in the future, when his kids were both 18, there would come a day when he would no longer have to pay child support!! And then, then we'd be rich. There were good times a-comin'!!
The good deal about moving here was that although this house cost a bit more than $7,000, it was still relatively cheap so at first my mortgage payment was fairly low and I had a decent job so it was no problem for me to just pay for all the stuff like I always did. At least we had a truck to drive and, honestly? for real? At least he wasn't one of those dads who chose to not work so as to thwart his ex out of getting any help--his child support took up a chunk of his paycheck but it was important. I really did understand.
And then we decided that we should do some remodeling. So we tore some stuff up, bit off way more than we could chew and soon realized that if we were going to really do this project, we would need a lot more money, and in larger chunks than the small bits either of us had leftover after paying bills on payday. So we (I) refinanced the house. Got an appraisal done and it appraised for like twice what we'd paid for it. I ended up getting a lot of money to do things like pay down the VISA and buy a shitload of sheetrock. It upped my mortgage amount but with an interest rate at 4.5% fixed, my payment was still pretty low. So all was well for a while.
But then we needed more money. The VISA was back up there, again, (argh!) and we had decided to install a wood burning stove. We needed a large chunk of cash on hand to pay the plumber and, oh yeah, he needed a fancy snowblower and his kid needed $800 to buy a car. Hm. Ok. So I took out a 2nd mortgage against the equity of our house. It scared me a bit but was within my ability to pay. But I warned him that if "we" did this, I wouldn't have much leftover for groceries or other stuff. "Don't worry," he said, "My truck will soon be paid off and I'll send all that extra money to the 2nd mortgage. Plus!! All the money I make blowing snow I'll send off to that loan too." Wow. Sounded great to me and I could see a light at the end of the tunnel. If he'd really use his extra truck payment money to help, we could have the 2nd paid off in no time! Cool!
So winter came and there was snow to be blown but... there was always something else that the money had to go to. As usual, I understood. The snowblower did need gas, after all, and I could see how he needed some better boots to be out in that weather, and a guy needs to fish, doesn't he? But soon, I told myself, soon the truck will be paid off and then we'll see progress!
Well, eventually the truck did get paid off. And I was ready. I was just tired of never being able to budget any money for clothes or anything for me and ready for him to help me out a bit. And then one day I came home from work and he was all excited. "Guess what?!?" he said, "I bought a Harley!" I was in shock. I had no idea he was even shopping for a bike, a Harley. I just stared at him and twitched a little in my eye as I did the are-you-insane headshake, a mannerism I got from my dad.
The bike was beautiful. He found it from some guy on Craig's list and was to go down and pick it up the next day. I could have started a fight with him, reminded him of his promise to me. I could have tried to forbid it. I could have had any number of negative reactions but as I stood in dumbfounded amazement while he explained to me how this bike, even though it would require a monthly payment, would cost less than the truck had and with what he'd save in gas, this bike was going to save us money!! ... as I listened I had one thought in my mind and it was, "Dude, you're on your own."
I knew as he went on about his pretty blue bike that he would never help me out with any bills. He wasn't going to change now with the extra truck payment money and it'd be no different when his kids grew up and his child support obligation was finally over. I was on my own with anything I signed my name to and he was never going to help. I believe that was the day when I seriously started to shut down. I had had my doubts before that but that day, even though I really didn't know it at the time, was, in my heart, the beginning of the end.
I went to the bank the next day and had a heart to heart talk with the loan lady and, in the end, wrapped my car loan and the 2nd mortgage together. So me and this car? We're in it for the long haul. But at least now I can afford groceries.
Now I could go on and on about the bike, and all the money that got poured into this miracle tool that would save us money!! as he tried just getting it to run. I could talk about how short-sighted I find it to buy any kind of used motorized vehicle without warranties, test drives and mechanical inspections. About how much spark plugs were for it and how few miles it took to foul them out.... but it's not really about the bike, is it? The bike is loud and like every decent Harley, it roars when you rev it up. Seeing him in his sleeveless shirt with his do-rag on, so tan, on his Harley, yeah sure it was sexy. But I never once got to ride on it. I bet he hasn't even put more than 300 miles on it since he got it; he still doesn't even have a motorcycle license!
But this, I believe, is the best part to this story. So, we break up right? And he's still living here, a little short on cash, can't afford his own place just yet. I think by now it's clear that I am perhaps a bit more lenient and understanding than most would be. So he comes home one day, all proud! He has, he tells me, reduced his monthly payment on the bike, and that's a relief because he's got a lot going on, you know. I asked if he'd extended the pay off period by a couple years or what and he said that no, it wasn't that. Suddenly I'm all ears. How on earth does one reduce one's monthly payment without extending the payoff time? Do tell. Easy. He just has to make a balloon payment in a couple years or so. How much? He does not know. Did you catch that? He does not know. He has absolutely no idea what the actual terms are he's just agreed to, he's not sure when the balloon payment is due or how much it is, he just knows that for now his monthly payment is less, and really isn't that all that matters? And in my head, again, only this time, with huge relief and about him: Dude, you're on your own!
Monday, July 13, 2009
Bureaucracy. Learn how the world works, already.
The ex was by today and the good news is that as long as I deign it acceptable to give him some of the garden produce (more on that another day) he will continue to do the weed eating of my yard. Which, honestly I could give a shit about but I guess I can grudgingly agree that it does look better once he's done it. Even if it never got done, though, I think my yard looks pretty good. He did it and I said thanks.
But anyway, while he was here today he told me his usual story of woe. He was $100 short in paying his bills this week. Poor guy. And it was all because of that one unemployment check that those bastards at the state never sent. What a bunch of jerks. Can you imagine? They set up some rules and then, (gasp!) they actually expect you to follow them! What on earth??!!??
Now, I've avoided learning the rules in detail thus far but I promise you, hand to god, that if/when I should ever get laid off, heaven forbid, the first ding dang thing I will do is memorize the rules the unemployment people want me to follow in order to get a check from them. If they want me, on every third Thursday, to entertain their dog, call their mom and fill out form 594-F, I'll buy some balls, call mom and do a 594-F. I'll learn the rules and follow them. How hard can it be? Every blue collar person and their brother and their uncle knows how the system works and they work the system. Seems like alls a guy would have to do is listen to his friends and that might be enlightening in and of itself. In fact, the ex even said to me that the people at his work all said that they had to report that one week's worth of work and then call in and report when they didn't work that other week. But since he found that to be stupid, by god, he wasn't going to do it!! You reap what you sow, dumbass.
Now, see, if this were the first run-in he'd had with the unemployment folks, I might feel bad and in fact, when it all first started there was a brief second where I actually considered learning the rules just for him so I could help him apply for benefits on-line. I did help him get his user name and password all set up, heaven forbid he should have to actually deal with the complications of that. "I DID this part already!!" "Yeah, but it didn't accept it because, see there, the rules are that your password has to be 8 characters long and include a number." "Well that's stupid. I'm using this one." type type type (new password, 8 letters, no numbers, website rejection) "What the HELL?? I typed a new password. Goddam this machine!! It never gets anything right!" "Did you include a number in your password?" "What?"
But I got frustrated and thought to myself, self, his friends from work all know exactly how the system works. My frustration stems from 10 years worth of me having to handle everything. 10 years worth of me having to be the one who reads the instructions, the one who knows how computers work, the one who has to tell him how things are. But even back then I thought, you know what? I'm done with that... I didn't get laid off, why should I have to know all this? His friends know how it works, let them educate him. Except, of course, he did not believe them and found what they told him to be "stupid." And hence, did not apply for unemployment during the correct week, back in November, when the layoffs first started. When he did finally call to apply, the lady on the phone told him that he was suppose to apply the previous week and he made up some lame explanation of why he hadn't, which he proceeded to contradict within three minutes. She did not buy it and all his work friends started getting unemployment payments right away, while his did not kick in for weeks. This was long after I'd decided that I was on my own financially, so while it didn't affect me or my bills/debts directly, I did have to listen to him rant about what a poorly run system it was and how "stupid" the people and the system are.
And so, you see, he's got a history of this. Everyone, it seems, is out to get him. It's very complicated, after all , this system of technology whereby you call on the phone and beep beep beep enter all your information. Fuck up one number and the lady might think you're trying to fraud the system. Which is stupid anyway. Damn bureaucracy. He's a victim of stupidity, that's for sure. Just try to figure out whose.
But anyway, while he was here today he told me his usual story of woe. He was $100 short in paying his bills this week. Poor guy. And it was all because of that one unemployment check that those bastards at the state never sent. What a bunch of jerks. Can you imagine? They set up some rules and then, (gasp!) they actually expect you to follow them! What on earth??!!??
Now, I've avoided learning the rules in detail thus far but I promise you, hand to god, that if/when I should ever get laid off, heaven forbid, the first ding dang thing I will do is memorize the rules the unemployment people want me to follow in order to get a check from them. If they want me, on every third Thursday, to entertain their dog, call their mom and fill out form 594-F, I'll buy some balls, call mom and do a 594-F. I'll learn the rules and follow them. How hard can it be? Every blue collar person and their brother and their uncle knows how the system works and they work the system. Seems like alls a guy would have to do is listen to his friends and that might be enlightening in and of itself. In fact, the ex even said to me that the people at his work all said that they had to report that one week's worth of work and then call in and report when they didn't work that other week. But since he found that to be stupid, by god, he wasn't going to do it!! You reap what you sow, dumbass.
Now, see, if this were the first run-in he'd had with the unemployment folks, I might feel bad and in fact, when it all first started there was a brief second where I actually considered learning the rules just for him so I could help him apply for benefits on-line. I did help him get his user name and password all set up, heaven forbid he should have to actually deal with the complications of that. "I DID this part already!!" "Yeah, but it didn't accept it because, see there, the rules are that your password has to be 8 characters long and include a number." "Well that's stupid. I'm using this one." type type type (new password, 8 letters, no numbers, website rejection) "What the HELL?? I typed a new password. Goddam this machine!! It never gets anything right!" "Did you include a number in your password?" "What?"
But I got frustrated and thought to myself, self, his friends from work all know exactly how the system works. My frustration stems from 10 years worth of me having to handle everything. 10 years worth of me having to be the one who reads the instructions, the one who knows how computers work, the one who has to tell him how things are. But even back then I thought, you know what? I'm done with that... I didn't get laid off, why should I have to know all this? His friends know how it works, let them educate him. Except, of course, he did not believe them and found what they told him to be "stupid." And hence, did not apply for unemployment during the correct week, back in November, when the layoffs first started. When he did finally call to apply, the lady on the phone told him that he was suppose to apply the previous week and he made up some lame explanation of why he hadn't, which he proceeded to contradict within three minutes. She did not buy it and all his work friends started getting unemployment payments right away, while his did not kick in for weeks. This was long after I'd decided that I was on my own financially, so while it didn't affect me or my bills/debts directly, I did have to listen to him rant about what a poorly run system it was and how "stupid" the people and the system are.
And so, you see, he's got a history of this. Everyone, it seems, is out to get him. It's very complicated, after all , this system of technology whereby you call on the phone and beep beep beep enter all your information. Fuck up one number and the lady might think you're trying to fraud the system. Which is stupid anyway. Damn bureaucracy. He's a victim of stupidity, that's for sure. Just try to figure out whose.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Depression: The completely irrational anger comes out
See, and I know it's completely irrational. I get it. But still.
I lived with the man for more than 10 years. There were times in those 10 years when he got down, and I mean really, really down, down to the point where I was nervous who or what I'd find when I got home. Down to the point where I got tired of his down and just wanted my happy man back. These times, for him, beings as how he's a very black and white concrete thinker, were down times for a reason. He was out of work. When we moved to Rapid he did not find work for months. And it was a scary time. But I did my best to understand and I paid for stuff and I tried my best to both cheer him up and lift him out. I stayed with him and loved him and helped him as best I could. And then, later, similar situations both when we moved here and after the hospital gig--both times he was out of work for a while and it brought him down. Understandably. And I stood by him, give me an A for effort, and for understanding and being supportive. And not telling him to just snap out of it or demanding that he talk about it. But also for being there when he did need to talk, and for helping with resume work and on-line job applications and trying to work through the unemployment process and the weird child support paperwork that came due at that same time. I was awesome, man, best woman a guy could want to have around!
During those 10 years I'm not saying I was up and happy every damn day but I only had three serious or long term depressions during those times--first, when my grandma died. I cried and cried in the night, was down and feared for the future. He was pretty supportive but couldn't understand the "why" of it. He wanted a simple reason and I had none to offer. I didn't realize until later how deeply her death affected me. Even now, thinking back, it might be a bit too simplistic to claim that it was all about my grandma's death. I was overwhelmed with the cost of living in Rapid and could feel us sinking down, financially, at the same time that I was dealing with the emotions surrounding her death. But overall, I'd rate him a C for how he dealt with my depression, with me, during that time.
The second time it affected both of us and I think we were both pretty good to each other as we each struggled to come to terms with the Nephew death after the big drawn out drama that had been the Nephews' Mom's Deployment. I'll just give us a both a B for this one and call it good.
But then about a year and a half ago, maybe longer, I fell into a horrible depression. I could feel it; I wondered aloud if I should seek meds for it. When I spoke to him about it his answer was always , "What are you depressed about?" I could not answer for life is not so clear cut, not so black and white for me. I thought things through. I contemplated him, me, us. I contemplated where we were and how things were between us. I was feeling like I didn't matter to him anymore, he didn't seem to care if I was there or not. When I talked, he rarely listened and I felt as though every single thing I said I had to repeat because after anything and everything I said, his reply would be, "What?" He was no longer interested in any kind of physical contact, although we still slept in the same bed. We never touched except by accident, by reflex while sleeping. I examined it all and it brought me farther down. I tried to talk about it and was met with replies of, "That's what happens when you get old," and "I do too listen." And then he got an ipod.
It was bad enough before, when all he did all evening, every evening was watch tv, but when he started to listen to the ipod while he watched tv, essentially totally shutting me out of his life completely? I could tell there was a reason, finally, for my depression. And there was a point where, if he'd tried just helping me through my depression, talking to me and working things out, I think it could have been saved. But instead, as I fell down deeper into my depressive spiral, he just shut me out more and more, refusing to even try to understand how things were with me. We went from this happy couple to one who never spoke to each other, touched each other, looked at each other or did anything together within the course of like 2 years.
And here's the irrational part: I'm so happy, now, for how things worked out. I know, now, that I really did want out and I'm glad I got out while I'm just 44. But I'm still irrationally angry at him, now, for not "getting" it, for not trying to help pull me out of my despair and working with me. I feel like, as I look back, I could have killed myself and he'd have just gone, whew, wonder what her problem was? And just moved on. I exaggerate. But I'm mad and irrational. Why couldn't he see how depressed I was? I pretty much lost all my energy and totally shut down, couldn't do much but sleep and cry. He'd lived with me a long time. I could have tried reaching out more, but I did try to the best of my ability. He laughed at me, misunderstood (deliberately obtuse?), and dismissed me. And I'm mad because I could easily have done likewise when he was down but I didn't do that. And I'm mad because I got so, so tired of anything and everything always having to be initiated by me.
Ah well, it's over now. And now I see that perhaps he just does not have the depth to see how far down I was and since there was no external cause that he could identify, well, "I guess," he thought, "it'd just be easier to ignore her." And after all I did for him. Bastard.
I lived with the man for more than 10 years. There were times in those 10 years when he got down, and I mean really, really down, down to the point where I was nervous who or what I'd find when I got home. Down to the point where I got tired of his down and just wanted my happy man back. These times, for him, beings as how he's a very black and white concrete thinker, were down times for a reason. He was out of work. When we moved to Rapid he did not find work for months. And it was a scary time. But I did my best to understand and I paid for stuff and I tried my best to both cheer him up and lift him out. I stayed with him and loved him and helped him as best I could. And then, later, similar situations both when we moved here and after the hospital gig--both times he was out of work for a while and it brought him down. Understandably. And I stood by him, give me an A for effort, and for understanding and being supportive. And not telling him to just snap out of it or demanding that he talk about it. But also for being there when he did need to talk, and for helping with resume work and on-line job applications and trying to work through the unemployment process and the weird child support paperwork that came due at that same time. I was awesome, man, best woman a guy could want to have around!
During those 10 years I'm not saying I was up and happy every damn day but I only had three serious or long term depressions during those times--first, when my grandma died. I cried and cried in the night, was down and feared for the future. He was pretty supportive but couldn't understand the "why" of it. He wanted a simple reason and I had none to offer. I didn't realize until later how deeply her death affected me. Even now, thinking back, it might be a bit too simplistic to claim that it was all about my grandma's death. I was overwhelmed with the cost of living in Rapid and could feel us sinking down, financially, at the same time that I was dealing with the emotions surrounding her death. But overall, I'd rate him a C for how he dealt with my depression, with me, during that time.
The second time it affected both of us and I think we were both pretty good to each other as we each struggled to come to terms with the Nephew death after the big drawn out drama that had been the Nephews' Mom's Deployment. I'll just give us a both a B for this one and call it good.
But then about a year and a half ago, maybe longer, I fell into a horrible depression. I could feel it; I wondered aloud if I should seek meds for it. When I spoke to him about it his answer was always , "What are you depressed about?" I could not answer for life is not so clear cut, not so black and white for me. I thought things through. I contemplated him, me, us. I contemplated where we were and how things were between us. I was feeling like I didn't matter to him anymore, he didn't seem to care if I was there or not. When I talked, he rarely listened and I felt as though every single thing I said I had to repeat because after anything and everything I said, his reply would be, "What?" He was no longer interested in any kind of physical contact, although we still slept in the same bed. We never touched except by accident, by reflex while sleeping. I examined it all and it brought me farther down. I tried to talk about it and was met with replies of, "That's what happens when you get old," and "I do too listen." And then he got an ipod.
It was bad enough before, when all he did all evening, every evening was watch tv, but when he started to listen to the ipod while he watched tv, essentially totally shutting me out of his life completely? I could tell there was a reason, finally, for my depression. And there was a point where, if he'd tried just helping me through my depression, talking to me and working things out, I think it could have been saved. But instead, as I fell down deeper into my depressive spiral, he just shut me out more and more, refusing to even try to understand how things were with me. We went from this happy couple to one who never spoke to each other, touched each other, looked at each other or did anything together within the course of like 2 years.
And here's the irrational part: I'm so happy, now, for how things worked out. I know, now, that I really did want out and I'm glad I got out while I'm just 44. But I'm still irrationally angry at him, now, for not "getting" it, for not trying to help pull me out of my despair and working with me. I feel like, as I look back, I could have killed myself and he'd have just gone, whew, wonder what her problem was? And just moved on. I exaggerate. But I'm mad and irrational. Why couldn't he see how depressed I was? I pretty much lost all my energy and totally shut down, couldn't do much but sleep and cry. He'd lived with me a long time. I could have tried reaching out more, but I did try to the best of my ability. He laughed at me, misunderstood (deliberately obtuse?), and dismissed me. And I'm mad because I could easily have done likewise when he was down but I didn't do that. And I'm mad because I got so, so tired of anything and everything always having to be initiated by me.
Ah well, it's over now. And now I see that perhaps he just does not have the depth to see how far down I was and since there was no external cause that he could identify, well, "I guess," he thought, "it'd just be easier to ignore her." And after all I did for him. Bastard.
Finding the proper avenue for release
I have a lot of anger right now; some for the ex, some not. And a lot of it is frivolous stuff, so silly as to be ineligible for consideration in the legitimate field of acceptable things to bitch about. Some not so much.
I'm hoping to become a better person and let go of all the anger. And be one of those people who, when you meet them, you come away somewhat annoyed and somewhat jealous. I want people, after having run into me at the grocery store, to walk away thinking, "Damn her for being so smug and so frickin' happy. I wish I was happy. Grr..." And, yeah, sure, I see the hypocrisy of me wishing that my own happiness would be so great as to piss off other, less happy people.
So what then? How do I deal with this anger? How to process it, shove it aside, bury, it regurgitate it, purge it so that it no longer consumes me? Better still how to get so I just don't think of it, of him or all the things about the last 10 years that just piss me off, so that I can move on and just be me? I used to like me. But.
You know how annoying it is to just suddenly find your own mouth telling a story, unbidden by the logical, normal part of your brain, to some random person about some stupid idiocy of your ex's, that never needed any telling, but you are so consumed with your own situation that a person saying something as innocuous as, "What nice weather we're having," is likely to set you off over what an dumbass your ex was for the way he couldn't get the outdoor part of the indoor/outdoor thermometer to read correctly because he couldn't understand the simple instruction: Do not place sensor in direct sunlight. Anyone who's been through a major breakup can probably relate. I'm just saying that my anger is starting to annoy me. Even as I'm relating a Stupid Ex anecdote, I am shrinking with embarrassment inside, saying, "Dude, you need to stop doing this. The world does not revolved around the end of your relationship."
Some might say, "But what about your Internet friends?" Well, it's the same for them as it is for the people I talk to in real life. There's really only so much boorassing about the ex that people can take before they all just kinda go, Oh, yeah, the one about the indoor/outdoor thermometer? Heard it. Twice. Yawn. Let it go already.
But, I thought, what if I got a blog? I could bitch and bitch and let it all out to my heart's content. I could even yak about the frivolous stuff, the stuff I can't even tell KW about because it's too stupid to admit that I actually think that way. And people could come and read my blog, if they knew about it, and they could read it and go, "Wow. This chick has issues." And snicker about how much less their lives suck, how silly it is for me to feel anger over such mundane crap, what, exactly, they would do in my situation and how glad they are to not be me. And decide on their own if they want to keep reading it or not, unlike my poor work and my poor Internet friends.
This blog, in theory, concentrates my Stupid Ex anecdotes and provides an outlet for my anger that I can plan for. Instead of launching into some long stupid story that no one wants to hear about how the install of the garage door went, and how that compared to the last time we tried installing a garage door, and how angry each made me and how each put bricks in the wall, I could instead (this is my hope!) channel that story into a Stupid Ex Anecdote compartment in my brain and edit it and embellish it to the point where it was entertaining enough to type out here. I suspect that this might leave me, both on my board and in real life conversations, a bit disconnected while I get used to the leap I have to force my brain to make... I'll be all, "Wow, a bat in your garage and it just flew out when you opened the door and chased it with a broom? Really? That reminds me of my own garage....." and I'll get this stupid shocked look and momentarily space out and inside my brain it'll be like this: "... STOP!!! Don't tell this poor woman you work with about how your dumbass ex can't read enough to install the garage door!!This would go much better at your Letting go of anger blog... you could tell of how the door still doesn't work, he couldn't get it in right, the motor size was all wrong, it wasn't his fault, certainly, heh, and how it was his fault that the door got damaged when the wind storm caught the piece that was loose after he drove his snowmobile into it and fixed it with duct tape, and then segue into the garage door in Rapid and how you had to stand there and read the book line by line out loud so that he could install it right....man, that was a fun day even if I laugh at him for it now... god damn him why did he stop loving me and I him? Surely it's all his fault. grr..." ...and then I'll grimace a tiny bit and pop back into the now and say something like, "bats are kinda cute but they can carry rabies!! Best to get that fucker out of there!!
See? Makes me look like I'm on drugs at first, but the option of having an outlet to think it through for, sparing my friends the continual boorassing will be well worth it.
Now, who wants to hear about the heater coil under the tile floor in the sewing room? How about whatever happened to that snowmobile anyway? or perhaps you'd rather hear about family drama and how great a dad he was after we spent hundreds of dollars on a lawyer and won?
Here is my caveat, and I will say in this once and I'll not back away: You're only getting my point of view. That's all you'll get here and I'm the hero of all my stories. As it should be. grr.
I'm hoping to become a better person and let go of all the anger. And be one of those people who, when you meet them, you come away somewhat annoyed and somewhat jealous. I want people, after having run into me at the grocery store, to walk away thinking, "Damn her for being so smug and so frickin' happy. I wish I was happy. Grr..." And, yeah, sure, I see the hypocrisy of me wishing that my own happiness would be so great as to piss off other, less happy people.
So what then? How do I deal with this anger? How to process it, shove it aside, bury, it regurgitate it, purge it so that it no longer consumes me? Better still how to get so I just don't think of it, of him or all the things about the last 10 years that just piss me off, so that I can move on and just be me? I used to like me. But.
You know how annoying it is to just suddenly find your own mouth telling a story, unbidden by the logical, normal part of your brain, to some random person about some stupid idiocy of your ex's, that never needed any telling, but you are so consumed with your own situation that a person saying something as innocuous as, "What nice weather we're having," is likely to set you off over what an dumbass your ex was for the way he couldn't get the outdoor part of the indoor/outdoor thermometer to read correctly because he couldn't understand the simple instruction: Do not place sensor in direct sunlight. Anyone who's been through a major breakup can probably relate. I'm just saying that my anger is starting to annoy me. Even as I'm relating a Stupid Ex anecdote, I am shrinking with embarrassment inside, saying, "Dude, you need to stop doing this. The world does not revolved around the end of your relationship."
Some might say, "But what about your Internet friends?" Well, it's the same for them as it is for the people I talk to in real life. There's really only so much boorassing about the ex that people can take before they all just kinda go, Oh, yeah, the one about the indoor/outdoor thermometer? Heard it. Twice. Yawn. Let it go already.
But, I thought, what if I got a blog? I could bitch and bitch and let it all out to my heart's content. I could even yak about the frivolous stuff, the stuff I can't even tell KW about because it's too stupid to admit that I actually think that way. And people could come and read my blog, if they knew about it, and they could read it and go, "Wow. This chick has issues." And snicker about how much less their lives suck, how silly it is for me to feel anger over such mundane crap, what, exactly, they would do in my situation and how glad they are to not be me. And decide on their own if they want to keep reading it or not, unlike my poor work and my poor Internet friends.
This blog, in theory, concentrates my Stupid Ex anecdotes and provides an outlet for my anger that I can plan for. Instead of launching into some long stupid story that no one wants to hear about how the install of the garage door went, and how that compared to the last time we tried installing a garage door, and how angry each made me and how each put bricks in the wall, I could instead (this is my hope!) channel that story into a Stupid Ex Anecdote compartment in my brain and edit it and embellish it to the point where it was entertaining enough to type out here. I suspect that this might leave me, both on my board and in real life conversations, a bit disconnected while I get used to the leap I have to force my brain to make... I'll be all, "Wow, a bat in your garage and it just flew out when you opened the door and chased it with a broom? Really? That reminds me of my own garage....." and I'll get this stupid shocked look and momentarily space out and inside my brain it'll be like this: "... STOP!!! Don't tell this poor woman you work with about how your dumbass ex can't read enough to install the garage door!!This would go much better at your Letting go of anger blog... you could tell of how the door still doesn't work, he couldn't get it in right, the motor size was all wrong, it wasn't his fault, certainly, heh, and how it was his fault that the door got damaged when the wind storm caught the piece that was loose after he drove his snowmobile into it and fixed it with duct tape, and then segue into the garage door in Rapid and how you had to stand there and read the book line by line out loud so that he could install it right....man, that was a fun day even if I laugh at him for it now... god damn him why did he stop loving me and I him? Surely it's all his fault. grr..." ...and then I'll grimace a tiny bit and pop back into the now and say something like, "bats are kinda cute but they can carry rabies!! Best to get that fucker out of there!!
See? Makes me look like I'm on drugs at first, but the option of having an outlet to think it through for, sparing my friends the continual boorassing will be well worth it.
Now, who wants to hear about the heater coil under the tile floor in the sewing room? How about whatever happened to that snowmobile anyway? or perhaps you'd rather hear about family drama and how great a dad he was after we spent hundreds of dollars on a lawyer and won?
Here is my caveat, and I will say in this once and I'll not back away: You're only getting my point of view. That's all you'll get here and I'm the hero of all my stories. As it should be. grr.
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