Night out

Art Basel Graffiti Image - Rap Artist Trina

Art Basel Graffiti Image – Rap Artist Trina

Last night started off great. Had a wonderful sushi dinner with two of my best friends and then we headed to an Art Basel party. The scene was hip and artsy with lots of Caribbean flavor. And then there’s me in a skin tight little black dress that had a keyhole cutout to show off cleavage (in which, right before I left, my daughter asked me why I had a hole in the dress). I looked out of place and like I was trying too hard. Then I realized just how intimidated I was by the scene. I mean, earlier that day I had considered making out with a hot guy if the opportunity presented itself. Now? Not so much. The thought of another man touching or being intimate with me was repulsive. And going through the whole dating game just freaked me the hell out. All these thoughts running through my mind at the same time cause me to start tearing up so I disappeared on my friends to go control the waterworks that were coming. What the hell changed? I was so confident earlier in the day and then my confidence fell somewhere to the floor. Fear took over and loneliness was making its way in. How could this happen when I was surrounded by music and numerous people? I was trying too hard too fast. My friends found me and talked me back to reality. It was going to be a long road and I was going to have to accept it one way or another. And soon enough I won’t feel like such a fish out of water. This is all still part of finding me. With those thoughts and my friends by my side, I danced the rest of the night with them and enjoyed myself. ❤️

That night’s mantra: With friends and family, I will get through anything!

Health Goals and Perspective

I was looking back now at a journal that I sometimes record random thoughts in.  Sometimes it’s milestone updates on the kids, sometimes just notes on how I feel, goals I want to accomplish or just recording the shit that was going on with Grayheart.  I found a list of health goals I wanted to achieve back in August 2013, just shortly after I left my job to be a stay at home mom.  I remember thinking that I would have all this free time to focus on me since I wouldn’t be juggling being a mother, wife and professional.  Boy, was I off! Here were the goals:

#1 – Lose 30 lbs
#2 – Get fit and healthy within 6 months.
#3 – Run a 5K before the end of the year
#4 – Get rid of sugar addiction
#5 – Exercise 5-6 times per week

Needless to say, I did not take into account that raising a one year old full time and trying to be Super Mom is actually a lot of work and that I’d be dealing with a sort of depression from the transition.  I felt I had lost some of my independence and self worth. I felt like the anti-feminist and didn’t want to be viewed as that mom that sat home watching TV while pigging out on ice cream.  So I over compensated and totally became that PTA mom and school volunteer and home chef that I thought I was supposed to be.  We struggled financially at home since we didn’t really adjust our lifestyle to accommodate the single income.  I became resentful of the lack of attention from my husband.  He didn’t understand how alone I felt.  I went from being a boss and leader in the corporate world to a glorified housewife.  I felt as if I had been reduced to shitty diapers and talk about princesses and Disney.  I was my heaviest (162 lbs and I’m only 5’3″) and didn’t even want to focus on my appearance.  I looked and felt like a slob.  But I just didn’t care or want it enough.  How was I supposed to focus on me when I was exhausted after caring for everyone else?

Fast forward to August 2014 almost exactly a year later… I started my running program and was very motivated.  What was the difference?  Both of my kids were in school and were doing great.  I developed a routine that incorporated dropping them off and then having free time alone to work out!  I felt like the tether had been cut and for the first time in 5 years, I had time to actually focus on myself.  Needless to say, the pounds started to shed.  The running encouraged better eating and a healthier lifestyle for me.  I found that I didn’t need sugar to cope.  I wish I still had the article but I read something that sugar basically hijacks your brain to make you crave it more.  It dawned on me that I am stronger than my brain’s cravings and that I’m in charge of my own brain.  It clicked and I started to change my life.  I felt happier and stronger.  I’d lost at least 1 lb a week and was really proud of my progress since I felt I could sustain it.

Fast forward to now… my progress has continued.  I’m down 9% body fat, have lost 24 lbs and am down a few dress sizes.  The acceleration of my weight loss definitely has to do with my current situation since I have little appetite and constant nausea… but I don’t want to limit it to that.  I’ve continued running and exercising almost daily and really feel like I’ve adopted a new lifestyle.  So although I didn’t complete my goals last year, I’m proud to say that I’ve just about completed them this year.  I don’t limit myself on what I can eat but I just don’t eat as much.  And sugar just doesn’t interest me.  Although I would still like to lose 5-10 pounds more, I feel really damn great and my self confidence in my appearance is back.  I look better, dress better and actually focus more on my appearance.  (And, to be honest, it has felt damn good over the last couple months having Grayheart tell me how good and sexy I look.)  Oh, and another thing… there’s a beautiful thing about perspective once you’ve had kids and are in your thirties.  Those hang-ups I had in my twenties about not having the perfect abs and ass?  Gone.  I’m just grateful I’m healthy and in better shape and have learned to accept the flaws in my body.

So, while I have been focusing on the negative aspects of a divorce, there has been one positive outcome this early in the game!  And I will not let it be a temporary thing.  This is just another way of me going back to the old me. 🙂

Today’s Mantra:  Perspective, perspective, perspective!

Be home by 8:20

Okay, this post is more for me to vent than anything else so I apologize if it’s boring.

So all was going fine yesterday until Grayheart picked up the kids for dinner and then did the whole bath and bed routine.  I had stepped out to see my therapist (yay!) and then met up with my BFF and her family for dinner and some TV watching.  En route to her house – being the kind and considerate co-parent that I am – I asked him if he minded if I stayed just a bit with my BFF at her house. (Mind you, she’s our neighbor that lives just 2 blocks away.)  He had the fricking nerve to respond “That’s fine as long as you’re home by 8:20 pm.”  That mofo had the nerve to give me a curfew?!  The woman with whom the kids are currently living with because you haven’t gotten a permanent living situation together yet? Oh hell no! That didn’t go over well with me and we started a bit of a text war.  It put me in a bad ass mood and then I was home by 8:45 pm. (I’m fully aware at this point that I’m an idiot for having asked if he minded… and it was short notice. But still.)

I entered my house quietly, threw a bunch of mental hand grenades in his direction, re-focused and then quickly chatted about the kids with him.  And then I was like “What the hell is your problem?”  In which he waxed poetic about how he’s exhausted because he comes straight here after work to see the kids and then he has a half hour drive back to where he’s staying, wakes up to work out each morning then back to work, blah, blah, blah.  I have zero sympathy for him as I’m thinking YOU were the one that chose this life, is that not right, you selfish asshole? But, in an effort to not fight – because the whole situation is shitty enough – I try to show that I understand but that he needs to understand that I do everything for the kids while he maybe does 2 hours a day of bonding with them. I have to deal with the kids whining at night that they don’t want to go to sleep or the middle of the night yells for Daddy or the coughing attack due to a bad cold. It can be overwhelming at times.  I adore my children but I do need the additional support while we’re in this transition phase.  The conversation wasn’t going anywhere and it felt pretty strained. He looked mentally and physically fatigued so I finally just told him to leave even though we got nowhere.  And then he text me again shortly after that he’d like to continue talking over the phone. (I’ll admit that I appreciate the olive branch he extended with the text.)

The phone call was less combative. We both admitted we didn’t want to fight with each other.  He shared that he’s feeling squeezed at all ends because he’s trying to financially cover all aspects of our life, he misses the kids and his living situation sucks. (I’m a SAHM at the moment.)  I told him that I’m plagued with unease because it’s hard to try to act normal when nothing is normal and I don’t know how to be. He’s like kryptonite for me as this point because my mood is completely altered with every interaction we have. If he’s nice and open, I feel good. If he’s colder and distant, I am a mess. I’m trying to understand where he’s coming from but it’s hard to feel any real sympathy when I am the one that was abandoned. (Violins, please.) The 30 minute call ended on better terms but I’m still not satisfied as I don’t really think we accomplished anything but the agreement that we do not want to fight.

I keep telling myself that once I’m truly over the hurt of the separation/divorce, this will be easier and my emotions won’t take over. Crossing my fingers!

My little secret

I think this blog thing is really helping.  I’m only day 3 into this but I’ve already been inspired by so many others bloggers that are going through/have gone through a similar experience.  I also am very aware that I have virtually no audience so it feels like I’m divulging myself to my diary.   No one knows me here,  I’m anonymous, it’s my little secret from my real life.  That, in a sense, makes me feel like I finally have something to myself.

I feel like I’ve always lived my life very transparently.  I never had anything to hide.  My spouse was my best friend and never had to question my loyalty or love.  I shared everything with him.  Now that he’s moved out, I’m here trying to figure out who the hell I am.  When you’re used to being that open with someone for 13 years, what do you really have that’s just yours?

So, this blog has become my little secret.  My strange way of exacting revenge.   It gives me a sort of satisfaction that although he told me I had lost myself and only identified as being a mother, I will prove him wrong.  He never even needs to know that I’m doing this.  Just the knowledge that I have something that I did on my own gives me a sense of confidence I haven’t had in quite some time.   I feel stronger today.  It might be just a little bit but it’s something.



So, last night I thought I had a mosquito bite on my lower back.  I scratched (yes, guilty) and woke up this morning to basically find my entire lower back to be appropriated by freaking hives! So, obviously, I’m living off of Benadryl until I can not feel like I’m on fire. Stress does some crazy shit to you.  It’s now nighttime and it has spread to my legs and stomach. Good thing I’m not intimate with anyone these days!

So, Grayheart came over for dinner tonight.  I attempted to be nice by giving him a kiss on the cheek “hello” as we do in these parts and it sure as hell caught him off-guard. We had dinner as a family, the kids shared their day and we then put up our Christmas tree.  He was a bit distant with me but polite at least.  I caught him nostalgically looking at some of the family pictures on the wall. (Bastard.) He then bathed the children and we each put one of our rugrats to bed.  Afterward, he asked me if there was anything he needed to be caught up on.  I really was just missing him today and wanted to have a heart to heart conversation so I asked him how he was doing and if he was happier now. He responded that he’s “in some ways, yes” (knife plunges deeper in my heart) but that he really misses the kids.  He’s eager now to buy a place as close as possible to our house.  We said good bye (no physical contact this time) and he left.  I, of course, proceeded to cry but then pondered the point of being so sad.

Why am I so sad? I’m sad because I still have hope in my heart that this story will have a happy ending. I feel like that 17 year old girl again that feverishly prayed to God that her newly separated parents would one day end up back together. It’s reduced me to feelings I had 17 years ago!  I can’t help but wish that Grayheart would just come tumbling back through my door and tell me that he’s the world’s biggest idiot and just can’t live without me.  And that he would change. That he is madly in love with me and saw the error of his ways.. And wanted to be truly connected and keep our beautiful family intact.  Well, all a dream.  Didn’t someone once say that hope is the worst of all evils because it prolongs your torment? Well, that’s me.  Torment, nice to see you again. I’ve been expecting you today. 😦

So, I was inspired to write.  But writing on paper can be slow.  Typing is faster.  So here I came up with the idea to blog about my experience.  I’ll back fill posts with my story and how I got to the present time.  (I have journaled in a diary so I can take lots from there.)  I think this will allow me to make better decisions and just vent.  I have to put on my big girl pants and focus on me and not base my day on his interaction with me.  This will be my therapy.  And my revenge, in a way.  I can do things without him and will relish my little secret blogging life. Or maybe the release of pent up sadness and anxiety will help my hives!

Okay, gotta go, my two year old is crying for Daddy. Jeez. This sucks.

Today’s Mantra: Get over him. He’s getting over you.

We’ll always (not) have Paris

Late summer, I began a running program to train for a 10 mile race.  My goal had been to run the Paris to Versailles race in France at the end of September.  I LOVE to travel but had never been to France.  It was a dream of mine to go.  I furiously trained and dreamed of croissants and baguettes and the Seine.  We booked our trip, paid for the race and were just preparing for our travel.

So, September arrives and my husband tells me he was miserable married to me.  I felt like I had been punched in the gut.  It wasn’t that I was shocked that he was unhappy.  I just kind of always thought he was a sort of malcontent and it was just his moody personality that dictated his behavior.  What I didn’t expect was for him to actually tell me that he was miserable with ME.  (Who the hell is miserable with me? I’m like really fun and funny and nice! WTF?! 😉 )  So, after digesting this information, I cancelled the trip to Paris just a few days before we were to go on it.  He wanted to still go on the trip to support me in my running endeavors and not have me cancel my dream trip… but I just couldn’t do it.  I couldn’t have the weight of his words ruin my time there.  I didn’t want to feel like I was forcing him to be with me when he basically told me he no longer loved me.  The trip would have been fake and forced.  I didn’t want him to ruin it for me no matter how well we could get along.  It’s the most romantic city in the world! I mean, I should be sipping champagne while my man is purring French sweet little nothings in my ear as we view the Eiffel Tower from our big ole bed that we just finished making vicious love in, right??? Nope. Not in my future and I was damned if I let him take that from me.

After his revelation, I told him that I could not have someone by my side that wasn’t proud to have me there with him.  I needed a partner, not someone who was weak and willing to abandon ship when times got tough.  I told him I thought divorce was inevitable based on his feelings and that he should be making plans to move out. He was sad, I was sad, it felt like I had just experienced centrifugal force equivalent to ten times the force of gravity.  I felt pinned to the sadness and nausea that had just overcome me.  The daunting fear of being alone and having to start all over again.

And that’s how my story begins.