Sunday, April 22, 2007

Try this one.....


Tuesday, April 17, 2007

New Blog

I began a new one, for those who care to look. It's annalogically@blogspotdotcom

Feel free to visit. :)

Friday, March 23, 2007

So What's the Rub?

I hate it when I'm bothered by my emotional response to remnants of past experiences. My ex is now engaged, and my older son is going to go and live with him (four hours away). The move of my son is a sore enough subject that I don't want to blog about it right now, but I'm pissed at my ex. I don't even like saying that- 'my' ex. Like there's still some residual tie. Of course, we have two sons together, so yes, I know that will continue, but if I could have all remnants of him gone from my life, I'd be fine with it. Does that sound harsh? It does to me, but it's also true.

Without a lot of detail, here's a summary of the pattern of our time together. He acts helpless, just sits and waits. I step in, do what needs to be done, sometimes well, other times not. He stands back and complains. Check out Aimee Mann's Driving Sideways lyrics for a good view of this.

After our divorce, I sought no alimony, just 'sharing' of the expenses that would be a part of raising our sons. Too vague, I know, but I wanted out. It was worth it. Over the last few years I've paid more than my share. I haven't been clear with him on how much, because he'd always complain about being 'broke.' His overtime had been cut, etc. Fine. I keep in mind how glad I am to be away from him and know that the time of me paying for my sons is nearing an end. I also know that this hasn't been the smartest thing for me to do, and I'm angry with myself over it.

He's now gotten involved with a woman he'd been good friends with in high school. They're going to get married. He's deliriously in love (hey, I can relate) and just moved back to his hometown. That part I like. He's getting a woman who loves his baseball team, makes a good living, is giving him her big truck, has bought him a cell phone and has also just bought him a huge, fancy grill. On top of this, she gets to have one of my sons living with her. That's the part that hurts. The rest just pisses me off, and I've been trying to figure what bothers me the most about it.

Is it that when our kids have needed things, he'd disagree that they needed them, or just shirk on the bills, saying he was barely making it?

Is it that I wasn't assertive enough about that? I know that what's happening now taps into knowledge that I was kind of taken for a ride during my marriage. Kept my eyes closed to things that would be too painful to really, clearly see.

Is it that he's apparently landed in a rose garden, and I don't feel he deserves it?

Is it that I've been trying to hold things together here when all I've wanted for the past year and a half is to be able to greatly change my living situation, too?

I was already bothered by this stuff (along with a whole related part which will eventually make its way into another blog entry), and then I get the coup de grace. His girlfriend apparently has a nice, big ring from him.


That this bothers me, since I'm not a material person, is upsetting, and given the state of diamond mining, I'd rather have something else, anyway. It's not the ring that bothers me, it's two things associated with it. First, that he came up with the money for that when he's been so miserly with me. Second, bad memories associated with the scene of our going to get mine when we were engaged. Suffice it to say that the only reason he was purchasing one at that time was that he wanted guys at college to stay away. Silly me, I was expecting it to be a romantic, loving experience, and all he did was to complain about the cost and buy the cheapest one he could get away with. Looking back, it was a sign of things to come that I really should have noted.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Thank you Mr. Lincoln, Jack Frost and the Illinois State Legislature.

What began as a three-day weekend, with Monday off to celebrate Presidents' Day, turned into a long 5-day vacation, with no need to call in sick, make sub plans, etc., thanks to the perfect timing of a snowstorm that caused schools and about everything else in the area to shut down. I never really expected to be able to share a snow day with someone 1,100 miles away.

Now, if we could only get Casimir Pulaski Day off again.......

Monday, January 15, 2007


Today is Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, a day which will forever have beautiful connotations for me, memories of the best five days ever. This year, I've been going through boxes and boxes and more boxes. (Will they never end?!) I can't begin to guess how many I've cleared out since moving here. Still have quite a few to go, but today marks the end of the 'jumble' boxes. You know (or maybe you don't, if you're lucky), the ones that hold odds and ends, often the last-minute effort of getting ready for company, or stacks of unfiled, undealt-with papers. On top of those, moving created quite a few more.

I took the lid off of a big blue tub which I thought contained items belonging to my sons. They were mine, however, and there with an old clock, an envelope of stamps for my collection, a balsa wood airplane kit, some Wet Ones I obviously couldn't bear to part with, and a box of old cassettes, was a box containing the last of the mementoes of a love affair that ended badly. It was a relief to find it, as I've been wanting to throw its contents out for a year and a half, but I didn't know where it was and it wasn't worth the effort to look for it. I knew I'd run across it.

Initially, the box had been larger, as had the relationship, which had swept me off of my feet. I had gotten divorced a few years before, and self-esteem at the end of that marriage was about as low as it could go. Having had no attention for years, the least little things seemed momentous, and by the time I met (let's call him... ) 'Bob,' I was all ready for a decent man who worshiped me. Hey! Who wouldn't be? We spent a year together, broke up on our anniversary, and I fell apart emotionally. After years of being anchorless, a lifetime of feeling alone, that relationship had been a rock to me. Painfully, I kept going, building a life on my own, learning new things about myself and appreciating the things I had already known. Almost from the beginning of that end, I realized that I had not seen Bob as he really was, but had taken the image he projected. Even knowing that, though, I found it impossible to really move past the rejection, wondering how I could have been more perfect. I was spending great time with my sons, riding my bike about 20 miles daily, and enjoying good times with friends, but that monster of fear stayed in my head.

One day, fed up with myself for continuing to give a damn about what he'd thought of me and beating myself up, I called my friend Alexandra. She knew the story and listened as I described my frustration at not being able to put it all behind me. She asked me one question that changed my life. 'What are his redeeming qualities?' 'His what?' (For someone who considers herself relatively literate, this question stumped me.) 'His redeeming qualities. What qualities about him are worth this?' Standing stock-still , next to a wall of canned soups in the grocery store, I thought about it. I couldn't come up with anything. I kept thinking about it for a couple of days, the end result being an answer of 'nothing.' Every characteristic I came up with that had been one I had really admired had either been proven false, or they were things I had found in myself and could provide on my own. And that was all it took. No more hidden moping, no more held-back tears, no more self-loathing.

I'd put the trinkets and symbols of our times together in a box upon our break-up. Now I found the box, having intentionally stuck it away somewhere I wouldn't run across it, and began throwing things out. The contents dwindled to fit a shoebox. There were a few things that stumped me. Photographs. I felt easily able to throw them out, but would that be a rash act that I'd regret later in life? Were there none I would want later? Into the shoebox they went. Some stones, both a red and a white heart-shaped one, and some from various outings were added. One of those European toys you make circles with, which have a string attached to some figures above a thin board weighted to a ball underneath, in this case causing two lovebirds to kiss. I would have gotten rid of that, too, but I felt bad, as it's signed by some Eastern European who probably earned a whole 50 cents for his time. Also a 'celery dish' that was a joke. I figured I would throw the stones into a lake and I'd find a home for the lovebirds. The photos I would deal with later, and the celery dish....well, I hoped something funny would occur to me. I threw out the cards and letters. Some friends had suggested burning them, but that seemed to lend more importance than they deserved.

Meanwhile, I began life again, and better than ever before.

Fast-forward to today, and the open box. I was so happy to see those things, so I could finally dispose of them. I kept three photos: a funny one of a sign, one of myself that I liked, and a cool one I took of my feet on a beach. The rest I tore in half, with a calm smile on my face. I'm keeping two of the rocks I particularly liked. How can I not appreciate the beauty of nature contained therein? So far not disposed of are the lovebirds and the heart-shaped rocks. And the celery dish. I'm thinking it could be a fun combination of things to put on Ebay, if done in the right way. More likely, I'll just throw them out, too.

I owe my friend Alexandra a lot.

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

boring knee talk

I had surgery yesterday. Arthroscopy for a torn meniscus. It's affected me more than I thought it would. More pain, and then I threw up this morning, I guess from the Vicodin. The orthopaedist called me a bit ago, though, and is giving me another prescription, plus one for nausea, so as soon as I can get my son back here to pick it up for me, I'll be just ducky. The doc said that my knee showed more wear and tear than he had expected, and he shaved quite a bit off, behind my patella. That may be part of why it hurts so much. Oh well, I'm glad I had it done.

One of the good things to come out of this is the love and care that has been shown to me by loved ones. One dear one tried to work it out to fly here to care for me (and drink a few margaritas, I suspect!), another came by here at 6 to take me to the hospital and then picked me up again after. My sons spent hours sitting there for me, and they've been absolutely wonderful about doing things for me, running errands, helping me clean up after I puked. True love, I'll tell you. It's a beautiful thing.

Thursday, December 14, 2006

And so it resumes.

So much happening. Has been. Will be. Hopefully this will be the beginning of regular writing, again. I pretty much stopped the writing for two reasons. First, I was so overwhelmed with things going on that I had no time nor energy to spare to do so. Secondly, I probably would have felt the urge to rhapsodize about my sweetie, and that didn't seem a wise course of action in a beginning relationship. 'Hi, hon! Check out my blog! I love you. You love me. Now I'm going to analyze things in public. :smooch:'

Now, I've taken care of a lot of things that were weighing on me. I have a couple more things to do, but I'm feeling good about getting them done in the next couple of weeks. Regarding my second reason for avoiding opening up my thoughts, well....things are good. Beautiful, even. The things that were worrying me in the first few months aren't an issue any more, so I have no need to spill my guts about it. Therefore, it's safe to go back into the water again.