Autumn has ended, but it was quite pretty while it was here.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Thursday, December 2, 2010
An Open Letter to My Ex
Dear John,
Over the past month, I've had a lot of things put on my plate. My grandfather was hospitalized and subsequently passed away. You had what you continually refer to as "The Incident," and what I refer to as "The Catalyst." We broke up. I drove over 1600 miles in 10 days, and 99% of that was by myself. I gained an inbox of 700+ emails. I generally consider myself a strong, capable person who is able to keep a civil tongue in her head through most situations.
We are now at the point where I no longer care about that civil tongue.
When we broke up on Nov. 1, I told you that I needed time and space. I had to tell you multiple times, in multiple ways, that this was it. That we were done. That you needed to go away. That you needed to go away right now. And if you didn't want to go away right now, I would stay the night at a friend's because I was incapable of sleeping in the same bed as you without doing you bodily harm. For the record, when someone says "You really don't want to have this conversation right now, because you will not like it" what they're really saying is "Shut up and leave me alone because if you don't, you won't like the results." Which, frankly, is pretty clear from the original statement.
You finally took the hint, because when I returned from dinner with my friends, you were gone. Two days later, I found an email in my inbox, that spouted such inane, defensive and pseudo-rationalizing drivel that I'm fairly certain a half-dozen of your beloved writers rolled over in their graves. I did not immediately reply, as I was now dealing with the knowledge that my grandfather had a broken pelvic bone, and that I should maybe start thinking about coming home.
The following day, I found a rather offensive email via facebook from your charming sister. While I completely understand the need to vent and talk to family and friends during a time of crisis, what I don't understand is how certain information failed to make its way to your sister, such as the fact that the relationship had essentially been on probation for a month, that my family has been personally affected by our own version of "The Incident," and that your poor decision making abilities were the reason for "The Incident"/"The Catalyst" and our subsequent breakup. Not only do you blame an innocuous inanimate third party for "The Incident," but you somehow gave your sister the impression that you were in, and I quote,"[a] devastating, heartbreaking dark place full of fear," to which she empathizes.
To which I would like to reply, very simply: Bullshit. First of all, the issues your sister is facing stem from some serious psychological and medical problems. She is getting help, though it took some serious scares and consequences to get her where she needed to be. You, on the other hand, are just an idiot. There is no excuse imaginable for what you did, and what you continue to do.
You have claimed that you wish to pursue friendship after the dust has settled. I cannot understand, then, why you continue to antagonize me to the point where I feel that I must issue deadlines, ultimatums and cold words of refusal to help you. I am indeed neutral with several exes, friends with one of them, and I helped another get a summer job mere months after we stopped dating: I am proud of these facts. I, and they, cooled off enough after the initial anger and hurt to realize that we were not meant to be, for whatever reason. We may say spiteful things in the heat of the moment, but in the end, we did not wish each other ill because we were adults.
But I am currently not inspired to cool down and look back fondly, and with a sigh, state "Well, there were good parts and bad parts, but I learned something and we're OK now." Instead, I'm prone to disparaging comments and rhetorical questioning of your judgment, both concerning "The Incident" and all of your actions following.
Most people, upon breaking up, vacate the premises and disseminate the bonds as quickly as they can. I prefer to also do it with with a modicum of tact, restraint and some goodwill thrown in for good measure. I even conveniently removed myself from my home for 20 days in the month of November. Granted, this was not because I'm that nice of a person. I am blessed to have good friends who held me when I needed it most, who asked me to stay with them so that I would not be quite so alone. One of them was recovering from a fairly serious surgery, and still had the capacity of heart to simply ask in the moments after I found out about my grandfather's passing, "Do you need to come stay the night?" It was asked without a second thought to her own physical discomfort. If that is not true friendship, I don't know what it is. On my trips to and from Indiana, the kindly parents of family friends let me stay in their spare room, to ease my burden. If that is not true charity, I don't know what that is, either.
Perhaps then, you can imagine my surprise when I came home in the middle of the month, after being completely gone from the region (much less my home) for almost 2 weeks, and I find that nothing much more, other than the bare bones you took with you on Nov. 1, is gone from the apartment. Your dirty clothing in my hamper, your shoes still jumbled up with mine, shirts still hanging in my armoire and your DVDs still in the living room. Your excuse? That you did not feel comfortable removing your belongings from the apartment while I was not there.
What did you think would happen? That I would accuse you of stealing something? Yes, you've shown poor judgment but you don't have a penchant for larceny. If you had questions about what was mine and what was yours, a compiled, emailed list would have sufficed. I was busy with my family and being in mourning while I was home in Indiana, but I still answered several emails about personal and work issues. I was actively updating facebook, so you cannot claim that you thought I was completely out of reach. We live in a very connected world, and everyone who knows me also knows that my iPhone is quite literally attached at my hip, usually in the right back pocket.
I then vacated my home for another week to pet sit for some of those wonderful friends I mentioned earlier. I'm not sure that I expressly told you that I would be hanging out with two dogs at someone else's home for a week, but again, social networking clues left behind by these mutual friends of ours would have told you that if they're in Miami, someone else is with their dog. A phone call, text or email would have also easily given you the information that I was not going to be around. I'm sure that you were busy for part of that week with all of the travel and family things that happen with Thanksgiving, as was I, but that still left you with Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday at your disposal, easily.
You did come get some of your things, albeit while I was between absences. Your reasoning of not wanting to be there alone is the complete opposite of mine. I do not wish to interact with you right now. I had thought that I had made that clear during the break up. Perhaps you're just unusually dense. Or perhaps, more disturbingly, you don't care about what I need and want right now. We all deal with grief and anger and hurt in different ways. My method includes avoiding that which hurt me for a while. That you so blatantly disregard my feelings and needs after everything I've been through in the past 33 days is proof that you do not actually want to be friends. Friends listen and offer what is needed, even if it's not completely understood.
What made that first interaction after the break up even more special was that you tried to talk to me. No, I don't mean the pleasant banalities that were politely exchanged. You ignored my refusal to "talk about things." ("Then don't.") You attempted to do a post-mortem on the relationship, as I stood there in my kitchen with a bleach bottle in one hand and a green scrubbie in the other. At first I couldn't believe that you were actually doing this while I stood holding a bottle of chemicals that could easily blind you; then, realizing that if I let this continue, we would end up in an unholy argument that would only serve to scare the wits out of my already thoroughly confused dog. And if there is one thing I cannot stand, it is the thought of causing my dog pain. So I cut you off. I told you, curtly and angrily, that you do not get a project review of relationships, and that if you wanted to do that with someone, to go see a therapist. Yes, the words were cruel and intended to hurt you. They were also intended to get you to shut the hell up.
Since then, the communications and interactions have continued to disintegrate. A month after the breakup, with two boxes of stuff still hanging out in my living room, I finally issued an ultimatum. Out by Thursday. What you don't know is that I also emailed the landlord, who offered and was fully prepared to change the locks at a moment's notice for me. I said thanks but no thanks; I only wanted him to be aware of the situation, and to help me figure out what my next legal steps were as a tenant with stuff I didn't want.
You, in turn, have issued your own ultimatum: that the couch that your father has been graciously storing for me needs to be out by Dec. 18. I can understand his/your desire to have it removed, but please note that you offered me pictures to post on craigslist, at the beginning of November. They never appeared. Now, I have an ultimatum (complete with words like "verdict" and "responsibility" that I find highly ironic) to deal with in addition to the list of crap in my life that I didn't ask for, but am dealing with as best I can.
The situation, though similar on the surface, is actually quite different and in my opinion, not quite fair. You had a month, for most of which I was not home, to remove your life from mine. I, on the other hand, went home to deal with my grandfather's death. I arranged a memorial service. I sang at my grandfather's interment. I read a poem for his friends and family at the retirement home. I reconnected with family. I held hands, I gripped a steering wheel, I asked for thoughts and prayers to be offered up on behalf of my family. I came home, sang in a concert, cooked for the concert, and have worked for my choir extensively as we work to solve serious issues. I walked dogs, taught a child to cook and played with trains and Legos. I have made Christmas gifts, cosigned on a loan for my sister, and advanced her some money to get through a rough patch right now. My life right now is consumed with the care and needs of others, in addition to my own weighty issues. What have you done in the last month? I will not sit with bated breath, because seeing Trans-Siberian Orchestra with your friend doesn't really count as a volunteer activity or a service to others.
What it all comes down to, John, is that you have always been a person who doesn't know how to look beyond your own immediate needs and comforts. You didn't volunteer anywhere until I encouraged to join the Peabody Volunteer corp with me. You didn't think to learn to cook until I practically demanded that you buy "Cooking for Dummies." You didn't know how to paint a wall or hang kitchen hardware until we did it together. You'd never been to an opera before I snagged free tickets to Live at the Met, and listening to Baroque music wasn't something you'd thought about on your own until I asked you to come to my concerts. You live a life that is incredibly stagnant and devoid of exploration outside of your comfort zone. I had to call your mother for you, to get your Passport finally completed with her address and phone number, for heaven's sake. This doesn't mean you're a terrible person. It just means that you're content to live in a small circle of experiences.
I am not like that. I never have been, and I never will be. That's why it didn't work out. "I want adventure in the great wide somewhere, I want it more than I can stand," was sung by a brunette heroine in one of my favorite fairy tales. Like Belle, it's not that I'm dissatisfied with everything all the time; it's that I refuse to settle for mediocre when I know that fantastic exists. We were not fantastic. We were nice, and cute, and.... that's about it. We learned things from each other, and unfortunately, we've also managed to learn how to hurt each other quite a bit. I'm sorry that I've said mean things and that you've felt the need to retaliate. But I'm not sorry it's over. It would have ended eventually, it just ended a lot more explosively than I ever wanted or needed it to. Catalysts tend to cause serious flash-bang chemical reactions, and that's what happened.
I write this with the knowledge that as an open letter, many, many people will have access to read and review my thoughts and words. I therefore choose my words carefully, as my potential audience includes my parents, siblings, other family members, coworkers, friends old and new, professors, and student workers.
This isn't a contest. It's a statement. It's a request for at least a temporary truce while I work on getting my life back into some semblance of order. I'm not asking for or expecting a reply. This is after all, a form of therapy for me.
I don't expect us to be friends someday in the future. I'm ok with that. I do wish you health, luck and love in your life, and your friends and family be as supportive to you in your times of need as mine have been for me.
Erin
Over the past month, I've had a lot of things put on my plate. My grandfather was hospitalized and subsequently passed away. You had what you continually refer to as "The Incident," and what I refer to as "The Catalyst." We broke up. I drove over 1600 miles in 10 days, and 99% of that was by myself. I gained an inbox of 700+ emails. I generally consider myself a strong, capable person who is able to keep a civil tongue in her head through most situations.
We are now at the point where I no longer care about that civil tongue.
When we broke up on Nov. 1, I told you that I needed time and space. I had to tell you multiple times, in multiple ways, that this was it. That we were done. That you needed to go away. That you needed to go away right now. And if you didn't want to go away right now, I would stay the night at a friend's because I was incapable of sleeping in the same bed as you without doing you bodily harm. For the record, when someone says "You really don't want to have this conversation right now, because you will not like it" what they're really saying is "Shut up and leave me alone because if you don't, you won't like the results." Which, frankly, is pretty clear from the original statement.
You finally took the hint, because when I returned from dinner with my friends, you were gone. Two days later, I found an email in my inbox, that spouted such inane, defensive and pseudo-rationalizing drivel that I'm fairly certain a half-dozen of your beloved writers rolled over in their graves. I did not immediately reply, as I was now dealing with the knowledge that my grandfather had a broken pelvic bone, and that I should maybe start thinking about coming home.
The following day, I found a rather offensive email via facebook from your charming sister. While I completely understand the need to vent and talk to family and friends during a time of crisis, what I don't understand is how certain information failed to make its way to your sister, such as the fact that the relationship had essentially been on probation for a month, that my family has been personally affected by our own version of "The Incident," and that your poor decision making abilities were the reason for "The Incident"/"The Catalyst" and our subsequent breakup. Not only do you blame an innocuous inanimate third party for "The Incident," but you somehow gave your sister the impression that you were in, and I quote,"[a] devastating, heartbreaking dark place full of fear," to which she empathizes.
To which I would like to reply, very simply: Bullshit. First of all, the issues your sister is facing stem from some serious psychological and medical problems. She is getting help, though it took some serious scares and consequences to get her where she needed to be. You, on the other hand, are just an idiot. There is no excuse imaginable for what you did, and what you continue to do.
You have claimed that you wish to pursue friendship after the dust has settled. I cannot understand, then, why you continue to antagonize me to the point where I feel that I must issue deadlines, ultimatums and cold words of refusal to help you. I am indeed neutral with several exes, friends with one of them, and I helped another get a summer job mere months after we stopped dating: I am proud of these facts. I, and they, cooled off enough after the initial anger and hurt to realize that we were not meant to be, for whatever reason. We may say spiteful things in the heat of the moment, but in the end, we did not wish each other ill because we were adults.
But I am currently not inspired to cool down and look back fondly, and with a sigh, state "Well, there were good parts and bad parts, but I learned something and we're OK now." Instead, I'm prone to disparaging comments and rhetorical questioning of your judgment, both concerning "The Incident" and all of your actions following.
Most people, upon breaking up, vacate the premises and disseminate the bonds as quickly as they can. I prefer to also do it with with a modicum of tact, restraint and some goodwill thrown in for good measure. I even conveniently removed myself from my home for 20 days in the month of November. Granted, this was not because I'm that nice of a person. I am blessed to have good friends who held me when I needed it most, who asked me to stay with them so that I would not be quite so alone. One of them was recovering from a fairly serious surgery, and still had the capacity of heart to simply ask in the moments after I found out about my grandfather's passing, "Do you need to come stay the night?" It was asked without a second thought to her own physical discomfort. If that is not true friendship, I don't know what it is. On my trips to and from Indiana, the kindly parents of family friends let me stay in their spare room, to ease my burden. If that is not true charity, I don't know what that is, either.
Perhaps then, you can imagine my surprise when I came home in the middle of the month, after being completely gone from the region (much less my home) for almost 2 weeks, and I find that nothing much more, other than the bare bones you took with you on Nov. 1, is gone from the apartment. Your dirty clothing in my hamper, your shoes still jumbled up with mine, shirts still hanging in my armoire and your DVDs still in the living room. Your excuse? That you did not feel comfortable removing your belongings from the apartment while I was not there.
What did you think would happen? That I would accuse you of stealing something? Yes, you've shown poor judgment but you don't have a penchant for larceny. If you had questions about what was mine and what was yours, a compiled, emailed list would have sufficed. I was busy with my family and being in mourning while I was home in Indiana, but I still answered several emails about personal and work issues. I was actively updating facebook, so you cannot claim that you thought I was completely out of reach. We live in a very connected world, and everyone who knows me also knows that my iPhone is quite literally attached at my hip, usually in the right back pocket.
I then vacated my home for another week to pet sit for some of those wonderful friends I mentioned earlier. I'm not sure that I expressly told you that I would be hanging out with two dogs at someone else's home for a week, but again, social networking clues left behind by these mutual friends of ours would have told you that if they're in Miami, someone else is with their dog. A phone call, text or email would have also easily given you the information that I was not going to be around. I'm sure that you were busy for part of that week with all of the travel and family things that happen with Thanksgiving, as was I, but that still left you with Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday at your disposal, easily.
You did come get some of your things, albeit while I was between absences. Your reasoning of not wanting to be there alone is the complete opposite of mine. I do not wish to interact with you right now. I had thought that I had made that clear during the break up. Perhaps you're just unusually dense. Or perhaps, more disturbingly, you don't care about what I need and want right now. We all deal with grief and anger and hurt in different ways. My method includes avoiding that which hurt me for a while. That you so blatantly disregard my feelings and needs after everything I've been through in the past 33 days is proof that you do not actually want to be friends. Friends listen and offer what is needed, even if it's not completely understood.
What made that first interaction after the break up even more special was that you tried to talk to me. No, I don't mean the pleasant banalities that were politely exchanged. You ignored my refusal to "talk about things." ("Then don't.") You attempted to do a post-mortem on the relationship, as I stood there in my kitchen with a bleach bottle in one hand and a green scrubbie in the other. At first I couldn't believe that you were actually doing this while I stood holding a bottle of chemicals that could easily blind you; then, realizing that if I let this continue, we would end up in an unholy argument that would only serve to scare the wits out of my already thoroughly confused dog. And if there is one thing I cannot stand, it is the thought of causing my dog pain. So I cut you off. I told you, curtly and angrily, that you do not get a project review of relationships, and that if you wanted to do that with someone, to go see a therapist. Yes, the words were cruel and intended to hurt you. They were also intended to get you to shut the hell up.
Since then, the communications and interactions have continued to disintegrate. A month after the breakup, with two boxes of stuff still hanging out in my living room, I finally issued an ultimatum. Out by Thursday. What you don't know is that I also emailed the landlord, who offered and was fully prepared to change the locks at a moment's notice for me. I said thanks but no thanks; I only wanted him to be aware of the situation, and to help me figure out what my next legal steps were as a tenant with stuff I didn't want.
You, in turn, have issued your own ultimatum: that the couch that your father has been graciously storing for me needs to be out by Dec. 18. I can understand his/your desire to have it removed, but please note that you offered me pictures to post on craigslist, at the beginning of November. They never appeared. Now, I have an ultimatum (complete with words like "verdict" and "responsibility" that I find highly ironic) to deal with in addition to the list of crap in my life that I didn't ask for, but am dealing with as best I can.
The situation, though similar on the surface, is actually quite different and in my opinion, not quite fair. You had a month, for most of which I was not home, to remove your life from mine. I, on the other hand, went home to deal with my grandfather's death. I arranged a memorial service. I sang at my grandfather's interment. I read a poem for his friends and family at the retirement home. I reconnected with family. I held hands, I gripped a steering wheel, I asked for thoughts and prayers to be offered up on behalf of my family. I came home, sang in a concert, cooked for the concert, and have worked for my choir extensively as we work to solve serious issues. I walked dogs, taught a child to cook and played with trains and Legos. I have made Christmas gifts, cosigned on a loan for my sister, and advanced her some money to get through a rough patch right now. My life right now is consumed with the care and needs of others, in addition to my own weighty issues. What have you done in the last month? I will not sit with bated breath, because seeing Trans-Siberian Orchestra with your friend doesn't really count as a volunteer activity or a service to others.
What it all comes down to, John, is that you have always been a person who doesn't know how to look beyond your own immediate needs and comforts. You didn't volunteer anywhere until I encouraged to join the Peabody Volunteer corp with me. You didn't think to learn to cook until I practically demanded that you buy "Cooking for Dummies." You didn't know how to paint a wall or hang kitchen hardware until we did it together. You'd never been to an opera before I snagged free tickets to Live at the Met, and listening to Baroque music wasn't something you'd thought about on your own until I asked you to come to my concerts. You live a life that is incredibly stagnant and devoid of exploration outside of your comfort zone. I had to call your mother for you, to get your Passport finally completed with her address and phone number, for heaven's sake. This doesn't mean you're a terrible person. It just means that you're content to live in a small circle of experiences.
I am not like that. I never have been, and I never will be. That's why it didn't work out. "I want adventure in the great wide somewhere, I want it more than I can stand," was sung by a brunette heroine in one of my favorite fairy tales. Like Belle, it's not that I'm dissatisfied with everything all the time; it's that I refuse to settle for mediocre when I know that fantastic exists. We were not fantastic. We were nice, and cute, and.... that's about it. We learned things from each other, and unfortunately, we've also managed to learn how to hurt each other quite a bit. I'm sorry that I've said mean things and that you've felt the need to retaliate. But I'm not sorry it's over. It would have ended eventually, it just ended a lot more explosively than I ever wanted or needed it to. Catalysts tend to cause serious flash-bang chemical reactions, and that's what happened.
I write this with the knowledge that as an open letter, many, many people will have access to read and review my thoughts and words. I therefore choose my words carefully, as my potential audience includes my parents, siblings, other family members, coworkers, friends old and new, professors, and student workers.
This isn't a contest. It's a statement. It's a request for at least a temporary truce while I work on getting my life back into some semblance of order. I'm not asking for or expecting a reply. This is after all, a form of therapy for me.
I don't expect us to be friends someday in the future. I'm ok with that. I do wish you health, luck and love in your life, and your friends and family be as supportive to you in your times of need as mine have been for me.
Erin
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
A plea to enjoy the awkwardness
There's something to be said about the awkwardness that follows a breakup. Mostly, that it sucks. And that the only thing I can do at this point to keep myself from crying all the time is to laugh at it.
There are some people to whom the explanations come easy: best friends, parents and siblings, mentors, bosses, some coworkers with parental leanings - the people who you see or talk to on a near-daily basis. They understand all of the layers, because they've been around for a lot of them as they developed. They understand your need to vent, and generally are awesome for you. They just get it.
Then there's the next level - people who hear that you've been out for near two weeks because your grandfather died, people who want to wish you well. Choir members, people on facebook, people you see at work every so often because you work in the same dept. "How've you been?" is a constant question. "The short answer is 'not so awesome.' The longer answer requires bribery in the form of sugar or alcohol," is the constant answer.
The really special conversations happen with general acquaintances. Explaining to one of the Peabody Museum volunteer coordinators, for example, that I'd no longer be taking the community kits out with le ex because, well, he's le ex. And someday we might be able to do it together again, but for now, I'd really appreciate some time and space sans le ex. Or, talking with the downstairs neighbors. Via email. Because they're borrowing some of the equipment you manage. And then they wish you, the ex and your dog a Merry Christmas (I decided to just respond with "Merry Christmas to you, too!"). Awkward turtle, much?
Another memorable moment was explaining to my younger brother why I broke up with le ex. He asked what happened, so I told him. I'm not going to lie to my brother (actually, I'd rather him learn from le ex's mistakes so that HE doesn't pull stupid shit on some unsuspecting significant other in the future). "I don't hate him, Andrew, but I'm very, very angry and hurt. I'll probably be angry for a while. Sometimes, you just can't deal with someone hurting you any more, and you have to call it quits. He made a really big mistake that I couldn't deal with then, and I can't help him with now. It doesn't make him a bad person. ...It does make him an idiot, though." Luckily, my almost-13 year-old brother seemed to have a fairly decent grasp of everything. Or maybe that's most 13-year-olds. I don't know; I try to keep my interactions with pre-teens to a minimum.
Actually, I think my favorite exchange was with my coworker, Bryan. He does magic things with Active Directory, LabStats, and Windows machines. Also, we argue. A lot. All the time, about everything. Good-naturedly, of course.
Wednesday, Nov. 3
Bryan: So what happened?
Erin: Well, I found out that my grandfather is in the hospital and then 20 minutes later I learned that le ex [insert really stupid shit that le ex pulled]. I broke up with him on Monday.
Bryan: ....Wow. I'm sorry.
Erin: I'm not.
Bryan: *stares, and then starts laughing* Wow, I guess that's one way to react.
What else can I do at this point, but laugh? I've cried so much I've given myself hiccups and headaches. I've driven so much that I get twitchy when I think about driving anything over 30 minutes. I've taken over the bed so much that.... wait, no, I like having the whole bed to myself. Nevermind that.
My point is, that even though I have these incredibly flippant answers and attitudes towards things right now - especially my breakup - is that I'm not trying to make fun of le ex (ok, well maybe a little). This is how I'm coping. When I stress, I either watch funny things to make myself laugh or try to make others laugh. Because if I'm laughing, I'm not crying. And if I'm making others laugh, they aren't feeling sorry for me. Just for that one instant, we're all OK, like nothing ever happened. And it's those little moments of OK-ness that keep me going every day.
So, just let me laugh, and laugh with me. Please. It's all I've got right now.
There are some people to whom the explanations come easy: best friends, parents and siblings, mentors, bosses, some coworkers with parental leanings - the people who you see or talk to on a near-daily basis. They understand all of the layers, because they've been around for a lot of them as they developed. They understand your need to vent, and generally are awesome for you. They just get it.
Then there's the next level - people who hear that you've been out for near two weeks because your grandfather died, people who want to wish you well. Choir members, people on facebook, people you see at work every so often because you work in the same dept. "How've you been?" is a constant question. "The short answer is 'not so awesome.' The longer answer requires bribery in the form of sugar or alcohol," is the constant answer.
The really special conversations happen with general acquaintances. Explaining to one of the Peabody Museum volunteer coordinators, for example, that I'd no longer be taking the community kits out with le ex because, well, he's le ex. And someday we might be able to do it together again, but for now, I'd really appreciate some time and space sans le ex. Or, talking with the downstairs neighbors. Via email. Because they're borrowing some of the equipment you manage. And then they wish you, the ex and your dog a Merry Christmas (I decided to just respond with "Merry Christmas to you, too!"). Awkward turtle, much?
Another memorable moment was explaining to my younger brother why I broke up with le ex. He asked what happened, so I told him. I'm not going to lie to my brother (actually, I'd rather him learn from le ex's mistakes so that HE doesn't pull stupid shit on some unsuspecting significant other in the future). "I don't hate him, Andrew, but I'm very, very angry and hurt. I'll probably be angry for a while. Sometimes, you just can't deal with someone hurting you any more, and you have to call it quits. He made a really big mistake that I couldn't deal with then, and I can't help him with now. It doesn't make him a bad person. ...It does make him an idiot, though." Luckily, my almost-13 year-old brother seemed to have a fairly decent grasp of everything. Or maybe that's most 13-year-olds. I don't know; I try to keep my interactions with pre-teens to a minimum.
Actually, I think my favorite exchange was with my coworker, Bryan. He does magic things with Active Directory, LabStats, and Windows machines. Also, we argue. A lot. All the time, about everything. Good-naturedly, of course.
Wednesday, Nov. 3
Bryan: So what happened?
Erin: Well, I found out that my grandfather is in the hospital and then 20 minutes later I learned that le ex [insert really stupid shit that le ex pulled]. I broke up with him on Monday.
Bryan: ....Wow. I'm sorry.
Erin: I'm not.
Bryan: *stares, and then starts laughing* Wow, I guess that's one way to react.
What else can I do at this point, but laugh? I've cried so much I've given myself hiccups and headaches. I've driven so much that I get twitchy when I think about driving anything over 30 minutes. I've taken over the bed so much that.... wait, no, I like having the whole bed to myself. Nevermind that.
My point is, that even though I have these incredibly flippant answers and attitudes towards things right now - especially my breakup - is that I'm not trying to make fun of le ex (ok, well maybe a little). This is how I'm coping. When I stress, I either watch funny things to make myself laugh or try to make others laugh. Because if I'm laughing, I'm not crying. And if I'm making others laugh, they aren't feeling sorry for me. Just for that one instant, we're all OK, like nothing ever happened. And it's those little moments of OK-ness that keep me going every day.
So, just let me laugh, and laugh with me. Please. It's all I've got right now.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Hell in a Handbasket. Maybe we forgot the basket?
So, I haven't updated in over a month. Here's a summary of what's happened since mid-October.
Halloween Weekend: Went to DC for the Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear. It was interesting. Then did the DC Challenge with friends, which is basically a DC scavenger hunt that sends you on a 10 mile walking/running tour of the city. My legs hated me the next day.
Driving back from Halloween Weekend, specifically while I was sitting in a traffic jam: Found out from my dad that his first choice employee, who stopped the candidate hunt mid-search, was again interested in him/starting the hunt again. OY. Also, his father was in the hospital. Minor detail, maybe. Also, maybe I should start thinking about coming home in the next few weeks. In case something happens.
Then I talked to le boyfriend, and found out that he A Major Fuck Up over the weekend. (No, he didn't cheat on me. But it was bad. I'll be a nice person and not go into details.)
At this point my brain ceased most functions other than the ones that would get me safely home through New Jersey, New York and Connecticut. I stopped processing, because that would involve a major freak out.
Monday, Nov. 1: I tell boss lady that there's crap going on at home; her response is "If you need to go home, go home. It'll be OK here." Boss Lady is subsequently elevated to sainthood. Le boyfriend becomes le ex. I go to a friend's house for dinner. And wine. Oh, there was a lot of wine. And my grandfather has a broken pelvic bone.
Tuesday: Took a mental health day from work. Spent the day reading in bed with the dog.
Wednesday: Grandpa is moved to Hospice. Plans are made to leave for IN on Sunday.
Somewhere in here, le ex tries to talk to me and all I can say is things like "you don't want to talk to me right now" and give signals of "GO AWAY." Apparently I need to work on my "GO AWAY" skills.
Friday: Friend has operation, is on drugs and hilarious. Spent the evening with her and her mother. Then I get a phone call at 11:00pm from Home. Late phone calls from my mother are NOT a good thing. Grandpa passed away; we'll keep you updated on details. I stay the night with the high friend.
The next few days are still a blur in my memory. I had several awesome people who looked out for me - had me stay with them so that I wouldn't be alone, fed me, hugged me, watched stupid TV shows with me. I'm not religious, and I don't believe in fluffy god crap, but I had angels with me those days. Also, I lost some of said angels keys.
I left on Tuesday, stayed the night in Lorain with more angels in Ohio. I came home and spent time with my family, especially my grandmothers. Gma Scott needed someone, and I was happy to be there for and with her. Gma Schwerha and I have always been close, and we enjoy spending time together whenever we can.
The interment was Friday at Ft. Custer National Cemetery. We had a memorial service at the retirement home on Saturday. My sister and brother read Bible passages, I read a poem. People commented that I read nice and slow - truthfully it's because by the middle passages, I could barely speak. My father had a eulogy where he talked about Peter Pan and thinking happy thoughts, my siblings and I sang together.
During the last song I completely lost it. I stood in front of 50+ people with tears streaming down my face. And didn't care. I had lost so much that week. The only thing left I could do was cry.
Afterwards, my mother held me while I sobbed. We've had our issues over the years, but one thing I've learned since becoming less of a brat and more of an adult, is that a good mom will let you cry on her shoulder whenever you need it. Because that's what moms do. And that waterproof make up is the way to go 90% of the time, because you never know when you'll need it.
I'm very thankful that my family managed to overcome some weird emotional tug-of-wars that were going on. We all grieve differently, and I think that we all came to realize that, and at least acknowledge it if not understand. I also found out that some people were different than I had been led to believe, in some aspects. I'm now exploring a closer relationship with my cousin and I'm really excited about that.
The next couple of months are not going to be easy. Between my grandfather's passing, the breakup, and that stupid Seasonal Affective Disorder, this winter will probably be one of my roughest. But I'm a smart girl. I'm getting help. I've got friends who are amazing. I've got a really good health plan that will pay for counseling. And I'm getting one of those light therapy thingys. I'm starting to pursue some Serious(ly fun) Art Classes, to get back into the groove of things and put together a portfolio so that I can get an MFA. I'm rearranging the apartment so that it's more livable for 2 people instead of 3. I'm spending lots of cuddle time with Parker, and I'm learning to crochet. I'll get through this, one day at a time.
Halloween Weekend: Went to DC for the Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear. It was interesting. Then did the DC Challenge with friends, which is basically a DC scavenger hunt that sends you on a 10 mile walking/running tour of the city. My legs hated me the next day.
Driving back from Halloween Weekend, specifically while I was sitting in a traffic jam: Found out from my dad that his first choice employee, who stopped the candidate hunt mid-search, was again interested in him/starting the hunt again. OY. Also, his father was in the hospital. Minor detail, maybe. Also, maybe I should start thinking about coming home in the next few weeks. In case something happens.
Then I talked to le boyfriend, and found out that he A Major Fuck Up over the weekend. (No, he didn't cheat on me. But it was bad. I'll be a nice person and not go into details.)
At this point my brain ceased most functions other than the ones that would get me safely home through New Jersey, New York and Connecticut. I stopped processing, because that would involve a major freak out.
Monday, Nov. 1: I tell boss lady that there's crap going on at home; her response is "If you need to go home, go home. It'll be OK here." Boss Lady is subsequently elevated to sainthood. Le boyfriend becomes le ex. I go to a friend's house for dinner. And wine. Oh, there was a lot of wine. And my grandfather has a broken pelvic bone.
Tuesday: Took a mental health day from work. Spent the day reading in bed with the dog.
Wednesday: Grandpa is moved to Hospice. Plans are made to leave for IN on Sunday.
Somewhere in here, le ex tries to talk to me and all I can say is things like "you don't want to talk to me right now" and give signals of "GO AWAY." Apparently I need to work on my "GO AWAY" skills.
Friday: Friend has operation, is on drugs and hilarious. Spent the evening with her and her mother. Then I get a phone call at 11:00pm from Home. Late phone calls from my mother are NOT a good thing. Grandpa passed away; we'll keep you updated on details. I stay the night with the high friend.
The next few days are still a blur in my memory. I had several awesome people who looked out for me - had me stay with them so that I wouldn't be alone, fed me, hugged me, watched stupid TV shows with me. I'm not religious, and I don't believe in fluffy god crap, but I had angels with me those days. Also, I lost some of said angels keys.
I left on Tuesday, stayed the night in Lorain with more angels in Ohio. I came home and spent time with my family, especially my grandmothers. Gma Scott needed someone, and I was happy to be there for and with her. Gma Schwerha and I have always been close, and we enjoy spending time together whenever we can.
The interment was Friday at Ft. Custer National Cemetery. We had a memorial service at the retirement home on Saturday. My sister and brother read Bible passages, I read a poem. People commented that I read nice and slow - truthfully it's because by the middle passages, I could barely speak. My father had a eulogy where he talked about Peter Pan and thinking happy thoughts, my siblings and I sang together.
During the last song I completely lost it. I stood in front of 50+ people with tears streaming down my face. And didn't care. I had lost so much that week. The only thing left I could do was cry.
Afterwards, my mother held me while I sobbed. We've had our issues over the years, but one thing I've learned since becoming less of a brat and more of an adult, is that a good mom will let you cry on her shoulder whenever you need it. Because that's what moms do. And that waterproof make up is the way to go 90% of the time, because you never know when you'll need it.
I'm very thankful that my family managed to overcome some weird emotional tug-of-wars that were going on. We all grieve differently, and I think that we all came to realize that, and at least acknowledge it if not understand. I also found out that some people were different than I had been led to believe, in some aspects. I'm now exploring a closer relationship with my cousin and I'm really excited about that.
The next couple of months are not going to be easy. Between my grandfather's passing, the breakup, and that stupid Seasonal Affective Disorder, this winter will probably be one of my roughest. But I'm a smart girl. I'm getting help. I've got friends who are amazing. I've got a really good health plan that will pay for counseling. And I'm getting one of those light therapy thingys. I'm starting to pursue some Serious(ly fun) Art Classes, to get back into the groove of things and put together a portfolio so that I can get an MFA. I'm rearranging the apartment so that it's more livable for 2 people instead of 3. I'm spending lots of cuddle time with Parker, and I'm learning to crochet. I'll get through this, one day at a time.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Daily Photo: Soldiers and Sailors Monument
This is one of the figures on the Soldiers and Sailors Monument at East Rock Park in New Haven, CT. I like her book. :-)
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Daily Photo: Mayflower II
Le boyfriend and I went to see Plymouth Plantation and the Mayflower II on our way out of Cape Cod. That's a really, really big rope. "You and your fuckin' rope..." kept running through my mind while we were looking at it. Boondock Saints = awesome.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Daily Photo: Mini Dock
At the edge of my Grandma's property, there runs a creek. I've had a love-hate relationship with that creek for my entire life: it's awesome, because ducks come and hang out up at the house from the creek (love ducks), less awesome because sometimes there are Canadian geese (freaking HATE geese), and some days, it just sucks because the water is super muddy/gross and I'm not stepping in that stuff. My cousins, Ben and Nate, have no such issue and would spend many hours of their visits hanging out in the creek, while I sat in the air conditioned house.The neighbors have a little dock that I think I've seen a kayak/canoe tied up to maybe twice. Totally underused. But, it makes for a pretty picture.
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