Divorce and Contingency Plans

I was reading C.F.’s blog tonight and decided to begin at the start, in November.  I think it is particularly interesting that his began in November, mine in September. After over half a year, it is easy to see the stages one goes through. The similarities in our journeys are rather amazing. Both of us are stumbling regarding our jobs…what do we want to do? Both of us considered continuing our education so we could teach. Both of us bounced around the idea of moving (and may yet) – even I, with my three children.  Both of us journeyed into the underbelly of nightclub life – my opinion C.F., and said with a large amount of amusement. My journey did not include strip clubs, but rough places I would never, ever go alone, which I found fascinating. I did not record it here and it was at least a year or more ago.  I spent an interesting Christmas Eve and New Years Eve in places too bizarre to mention. Memorable, yes.  

Something utterly fascinating has occurred.  My parents came to visit this weekend. I realized that they are completely nuts. My family is nuts. No wonder I stayed with the ex.

Mr. Boyfriend is back on. He began counseling this morning to try and get himself straight. I think this is wonderful. I did not suggest it – he did this on his own.

However, it has made me take a sober look at myself. This look began on Good Friday and hasn’t really quit.  I realized that I have developed an emotional need for him. I am struggling with this. I didn’t really want this to happen. I wanted to love him, true. I wanted to fall in love and feel all that good stuff. I just didn’t want to fall into the helpless grip of actually needing another human being.  And here I am.

I’m asking myself if my need is healthy. I wouldn’t know healthy if it smacked me in the face. And yes, I continue with counseling. But she’s moving and I think we’ve become friends. Rather unethical, I know. Oh, well. I’ve been making new female friends all over the place. I guess it helps to not have secrets and to not be nuts. You end up friends with even your therapist.

Or, as a friend of mine (male) said about me in reference to how I used to be, “…that’s cause you were a fucking fruitcake.”  Well. If you must put it that way. Yes.

So, the fucking fruitcake is awake and alive and wondering if there is anyway OUT of needing Mr. Boyfriend emotionally. Or if she should be looking for a way out. I’m chicken. Next week I’m supposed to go to North Carolina with him on a business trip.  It could fall through. I’ve decided that if it is does, I’m rerouting to Eugene, Oregon. No, dear, not for you. I have another friend who lives there, which I think is odd. But I haven’t seen her in years and she’s one of my best friends – that’d be Karin, for all who know.  I have promised her I would come for years.

Contingency plans. When do I stop having them? When do I stop needing them?

Insecurities

I am waiting for the reality of this Mr. Boyfriend thing to kick in. Truth is, lately I have wondered if we weren’t meant to simply be friends. Not that my physical attraction for him has waned any – it has not.  Just that my interest in pursuing something, well, rollercoastery, has become limited.

I have described to others how I feel – literally like I have recently come out of a coma. It’s wild. I’m more with it, more alive, more conscious of people and things around me. More aware of what my children need. More willing and able to give to other people. It’s cool.

But. It has also made me unwilling to take garbage from other people. I try and be gentle about it.  This last bout with Mr. Boyfriend was related to a mentioning of the ex I made. I learned (from the horse’s mouth) that he has no intention of marrying the woman he left me for. This ticked me off. Irritated me. My children and I went through all that garbage and he doesn’t even feel strongly enough about her to marry her? Hhharrmmmph.  I realized he left me, not for a woman, but for a lifestyle, for money, for freedom.  Things I couldn’t provide.  And this led to a realization that my father – it was the same with him. I just didn’t matter. I have spent my whole life not mattering and trying desperately to matter to the men in my life. Silly me.

So I wanted to discuss this with Mr. Boyfriend because he has been down this road, but only in reverse. He flipped. He said he didn’t want to talk about “other men” any more.
OK. I understood and respected that. But gosh, I didn’t know if I could live with it. And really…I don’t think I can. I am undergoing so many changes related to divorce and my faith and well, life, that I can’t see the ex never coming up again.  Is he a part of my usual discourse with others? No. But who I was at that very moment was important. What I was working through was relevant. And then…he said the one thing that hurts. Did I have to share everything with him? Did he have to listen to everything I had to say?

I would, actually, like some commentary here.  This bothers me. It seems demeaning? I have never had a healthy relationship so I have to go with it being a problem strictly because it bothered me. I basically just thought he was being a jerk, and gee, good riddance.

Reality is that I probably have no business in a relationship, anyway.

Maybe it’ll hit later. But I somehow think I’ll still be standing a week from now.

Weight

I want to talk about something that is very sensitive. C.F. mentioned something in one of his blogs about having lost weight and working out, etc.  I know others that read this have struggled with their weight, too.  Here’s my deal…I have struggled with it on and off over the years, also.  The ex used it as a topic with which to belittle and demean me. For 16 years. I’m pretty sensitive about it.

Getting naked with Mr. Boyfriend was very difficult. Frankly, I just don’t have the confidence it takes at this weight to be comfortable in this arena. It was difficult five pounds from what I weighed in high school, let alone 15 or more.

Yes, I am running as often as possible. But my body is also not as young as it once was. I did something nasty to my knee. Could barely walk the other night and had to put it up on a pillow, ice it and take ibuprofen. Tomorrow I will try again. Apparently I need something called jumper straps and it is time for new running shoes. OK. I’ll deal with that this weekend (I knew nothing about any of this stuff – I just thought you picked up your feet and RAN). I like running. I’ll keep it up. It’s good soul time. So I’ll keep that up – I noticed an adjustment in my weight within a week of beginning.

But here’s the thing. I am half relieved to have this thing with Mr. Boyfriend over just because it means I won’t have to worry about what someone else thinks of my body.  I don’t want to worry about it. I want to worry about other things. I want to be healthy – eat right, exercise, etc. I think that is necessary for good mental health, anyway. But I don’t want to worry about my weight on a daily basis and I was becoming obsessive about it – mostly because I was worrying about what HE thought.

In fact, part of me thinks he broke up with me because I gained some weight.

Maybe he did. Look what I experienced previously – it’s not like I haven’t learned that people can be really shallow.

I know that the ex did a major job on me regarding body image.  In all areas. I don’t know what to do about it. OK, lose weight. Right. But you know what? That is really just a skin-deep fix, when the problem is deeper. Much deeper.

So my relief is primarily about that. What I want is to be loved and thought of as sexy no matter what weight I am at. I just don’t think that’s attainable, though. And for the record – my current weight simply puts me in the ‘average’ grouping for women my age.  I’m not really over weight. I know this. But the strain of worrying about what some man thought of me naked was too much. The thought of being rejected AGAIN for something so surface by someone I know so well, was just too much. Too much to risk, I guess.

So I am ok with him being gone. I’m accepting this as a graceful way out of risking. Horrible of me.  He gets to maintain his manly pride (he broke up with me), I get to slink away, grateful for the out – stupid though my reasoning is.  I got so I could stand or sit next to him when he was mad – would even unknowingly move closer to him. Which had me grinning like an idiot in the middle of an argument. I wasn’t afraid of him. I trusted that he wouldn’t become physical with me. Instead of viewing his stillness as restraint – I began to see it for what it was. Real.

So I overcame that fear. Which is impressive (but by no means comprehensive – I know this). But this body image thing – I couldn’t even talk about it with him. I did not want to draw attention to my body, or my thoughts or anything. So it just festered inside of me. Frankly, I may talk about it here. I may talk about with friends – male or female – but I have can never envisioning the person I am involved with being a part of a conversation about this kind of stuff.

Screwed up, I know.  It’s just not a risk I want to take right now. It’s too much. It’s the limit for me. It’s an area in which I have not healed – in which I need to heal. An area, apparently, I need to do some soul searching (some dumping it in God’s lap, obviously).


This post wouldn’t POST a week or two ago…so it’s older than the listed date!