So, shortly after I posted last Monday, I got a call from EPA. I did not get to the phone in time, and actually did not speak to anyone until Tuesday. But, they re-called me to work on a FOIA request beginning today. (the Tuesday after Memorial Day.)
I went in, gathered my badge, and began attending meetings to get started on the new project. ONLY to find out, 10 minutes or less into the meeting re: the actual project, that I had worked on some part of this 'on the other side' and there was a conflict.
I was allowed to research the issue there, and call my former employer to ask about a waiver. Yeah, 3 hours of 'work' and then I had to leave.
I have not been able to speak to or get any information from the man who makes decisions at my former employer's office. I drafted a 'waiver' and e-mailed it to him/them. I have heard nothing. I don't know how long EPA will give me to try to work this out. Maybe not beyond tomorrow.
I am tired of the rain, I need some sun.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Sam Finally Sleeps
Sam snuck out of his bedroom, stepping carefully around the squeaks in the hallway floor. He slowly, carefully put his head around the corner of his mother’s bedroom door. He was holding his breath. The TV was on, as it always was when Mom slept. He waited until the scene changed so that the room lit to something brighter than dusk. He never had anything against Happy Days re-runs, but now he truly appreciated the old show.
Sam looked carefully. Mom’s hair was just hair. Just hair. He visibly relaxed, releasing the breath he’d been holding. Silently he turned away, avoiding the squeaks again, and slipped back into his bedroom. He shut the door as quietly as possible, which was pretty quiet. He had figured out how to use the WD-40, despite the push-button-nozzle having gone missing. Sam turned the light up and looked around his room.
No. It hadn’t been a dream. Mom really had taken all his spiral notebooks when she found him still drawing at 1:00 a.m. And that snaky thing was on the floor. Sam poked it with his foot. If it really had been alive, it was dead now.
1:00 a.m. was really really late for a fifth grader to be awake on a school night, he agreed with Mom about that. But he hadn’t known how late it had gotten. He was trying to finish a story line before he forgot it. That’s all. He just didn’t look up at his Sponge Bob digital alarm clock.
Sam sat on the corner of his bed. It was kind of low because the box springs were sitting directly on the floor. Right after Mom bought the new bed for him, he’d kept trampolining on it, and broke the box springs. Mom was starting law school then and hadn’t had the extra money to buy another box springs, so she put it on the floor and told him that was his punishment. He had to sleep that way until after she was through law school and could afford to replace it.
Sam wondered if the fact that she was in what she called ‘an in-between time’ had anything to do with what he saw. The amazing thing he saw. In-between to Mom meant that she’d sat for the bar but didn’t know yet if she passed. She kept calling the bar examiners ‘evil little trolls’.
Sam knew that when Mom was stressed she was much more apt to act like her Mom, the grandmother who passed away when Sam was only two years old. And Mom had classic stories of her mother’s insane reactions to situations.
One night, Sam saw his Mom go after the old cat. The old cat, Binks, was suffering from some sort of kitty dementia, and had bitten Sam on the cheek in the middle of the night. No one knew why. Everyone but Binks had been asleep at the time. Sam and his sister, Allison, watched their Mom as she woke, already in a dead heat running for her child who was screaming in obvious pain. Mom grabbed a broom and chased Binks all over the house, barely ever touching him with the ends of the bristles, but wailing some aboriginal scream that caused all the animals in the house to hide. Heck, Sam and Allison hid too.
Maybe that was the forerunner of the snakes.
Mom had joked about it before, but he hadn’t believed her. She joked all the time with him and Allison that when she was PMS’y or angry that she turned into her "real self", some Goddess who was sort of a mix of the outward characteristics of both Medusa and Kali. The three of them had laughed themselves stupid one night while driving in the car. Mom could make them laugh harder than anything sometimes. A smile played on Sam’s face for a moment thinking about how funny Mom could be.
When it first happened, Sam thought he was seeing things. Mom had crawled out of her bed and headed for the bathroom, and Sam tried to pretend sleep quickly, but she was quick this night. When she saw him, she probably wasn’t really awake yet, but there he was, drawing cartoon characters with language balloons hovering near their mouths.
She got taller. She literally seemed to grow. Sam would bet that when Mom was mad, she was at least 6 feet 4 inches tall, and not the 5 foot 7 she normally was. But that was normal stuff. That could happen on a sunny day in the middle of June, in the Wal Mart. That growth didn’t surprise him.
Sam poked the thing in the floor again. It was turning a funny shade of gray. He pushed it with his toe a little harder, until the things face was toward him. Snake. It had to be some sort of snake. And it had fallen out of his mother’s head.
Maybe if he hadn’t said "about 10?" when Mom asked him if he knew what time it was, she wouldn’t have gone over whatever cliff edge she’d stepped off of. Maybe. Or maybe it would have happened anyway. But when the word "ten" had come out of his mouth, Mom grew. This always sort of made him laugh because Mom was virtually harmless, making the growth pointlessly funny and not scary at all. Plus it reminded him of a peacock spreading its tail feathers. That’s what really made him laugh; thinking of Mom spreading her tail feathers, and strutting while she lectured.
As she grew though, she reached up to her face and rubbed it, trying to wake up more before she said anything. Her face rub turned into a hair rake, which is when he realized her hair looked more like snakes than hair. When a ‘chunk’ fell off, it wiggled and slithered, and showed its fangs before it laid still. That was disturbing. But then, Sam realized she was still rubbing her face, trying to wake up or calm down, he wasn’t sure which and picking up notebooks at the same time!
Four arms. Not two. Four arms. Mom was still there, but she was now in the body of a 6 foot 4 inch, four-armed, snake haired Goddess.
She never said a word. She just quickly picked up all of his notebooks, not just the one he was currently working in, shook her head "no: making the snakes wave to and fro, and walked back to her room.
He wasn’t sure what to do. He grabbed his cell phone and texted Allison. "r u awake? do u know about mom and snakes?"
He started pacing. Then he was afraid Mom might hear him. So he turned his light back down and opened his door a couple of inches so he could hear her if she got up again. He climbed under his covers and waited for Allison to respond. He was pretty sure she would be awake. She was in college, so she studied late a lot. He was just starting to feel like he might be able to sleep sometime tonight when his phone trilled. Allison’s response was "yes. lets talk tomoro. no danger. go to sleep."
Sam pulled Kleenex from the box and covered the snake. Then he put his phone back in his back pack, and laid down. Everything seemed okay again. The patterns of light from Mom’s TV played along the door of his bedroom. He could hear her snoring softly. Allison said it was okay, that there was no danger. So Mom was some freak of nature. Or maybe she really was some lesser Goddess of some archaic religion. Did it really matter? She was still his Mom and he loved her fiercely. Besides, if anybody ever messed with him, having a Mom with snakes for hair and four arms could come in handy.
Finally able to go back to sleep, Sam began to lightly snore.
Sam looked carefully. Mom’s hair was just hair. Just hair. He visibly relaxed, releasing the breath he’d been holding. Silently he turned away, avoiding the squeaks again, and slipped back into his bedroom. He shut the door as quietly as possible, which was pretty quiet. He had figured out how to use the WD-40, despite the push-button-nozzle having gone missing. Sam turned the light up and looked around his room.
No. It hadn’t been a dream. Mom really had taken all his spiral notebooks when she found him still drawing at 1:00 a.m. And that snaky thing was on the floor. Sam poked it with his foot. If it really had been alive, it was dead now.
1:00 a.m. was really really late for a fifth grader to be awake on a school night, he agreed with Mom about that. But he hadn’t known how late it had gotten. He was trying to finish a story line before he forgot it. That’s all. He just didn’t look up at his Sponge Bob digital alarm clock.
Sam sat on the corner of his bed. It was kind of low because the box springs were sitting directly on the floor. Right after Mom bought the new bed for him, he’d kept trampolining on it, and broke the box springs. Mom was starting law school then and hadn’t had the extra money to buy another box springs, so she put it on the floor and told him that was his punishment. He had to sleep that way until after she was through law school and could afford to replace it.
Sam wondered if the fact that she was in what she called ‘an in-between time’ had anything to do with what he saw. The amazing thing he saw. In-between to Mom meant that she’d sat for the bar but didn’t know yet if she passed. She kept calling the bar examiners ‘evil little trolls’.
Sam knew that when Mom was stressed she was much more apt to act like her Mom, the grandmother who passed away when Sam was only two years old. And Mom had classic stories of her mother’s insane reactions to situations.
One night, Sam saw his Mom go after the old cat. The old cat, Binks, was suffering from some sort of kitty dementia, and had bitten Sam on the cheek in the middle of the night. No one knew why. Everyone but Binks had been asleep at the time. Sam and his sister, Allison, watched their Mom as she woke, already in a dead heat running for her child who was screaming in obvious pain. Mom grabbed a broom and chased Binks all over the house, barely ever touching him with the ends of the bristles, but wailing some aboriginal scream that caused all the animals in the house to hide. Heck, Sam and Allison hid too.
Maybe that was the forerunner of the snakes.
Mom had joked about it before, but he hadn’t believed her. She joked all the time with him and Allison that when she was PMS’y or angry that she turned into her "real self", some Goddess who was sort of a mix of the outward characteristics of both Medusa and Kali. The three of them had laughed themselves stupid one night while driving in the car. Mom could make them laugh harder than anything sometimes. A smile played on Sam’s face for a moment thinking about how funny Mom could be.
When it first happened, Sam thought he was seeing things. Mom had crawled out of her bed and headed for the bathroom, and Sam tried to pretend sleep quickly, but she was quick this night. When she saw him, she probably wasn’t really awake yet, but there he was, drawing cartoon characters with language balloons hovering near their mouths.
She got taller. She literally seemed to grow. Sam would bet that when Mom was mad, she was at least 6 feet 4 inches tall, and not the 5 foot 7 she normally was. But that was normal stuff. That could happen on a sunny day in the middle of June, in the Wal Mart. That growth didn’t surprise him.
Sam poked the thing in the floor again. It was turning a funny shade of gray. He pushed it with his toe a little harder, until the things face was toward him. Snake. It had to be some sort of snake. And it had fallen out of his mother’s head.
Maybe if he hadn’t said "about 10?" when Mom asked him if he knew what time it was, she wouldn’t have gone over whatever cliff edge she’d stepped off of. Maybe. Or maybe it would have happened anyway. But when the word "ten" had come out of his mouth, Mom grew. This always sort of made him laugh because Mom was virtually harmless, making the growth pointlessly funny and not scary at all. Plus it reminded him of a peacock spreading its tail feathers. That’s what really made him laugh; thinking of Mom spreading her tail feathers, and strutting while she lectured.
As she grew though, she reached up to her face and rubbed it, trying to wake up more before she said anything. Her face rub turned into a hair rake, which is when he realized her hair looked more like snakes than hair. When a ‘chunk’ fell off, it wiggled and slithered, and showed its fangs before it laid still. That was disturbing. But then, Sam realized she was still rubbing her face, trying to wake up or calm down, he wasn’t sure which and picking up notebooks at the same time!
Four arms. Not two. Four arms. Mom was still there, but she was now in the body of a 6 foot 4 inch, four-armed, snake haired Goddess.
She never said a word. She just quickly picked up all of his notebooks, not just the one he was currently working in, shook her head "no: making the snakes wave to and fro, and walked back to her room.
He wasn’t sure what to do. He grabbed his cell phone and texted Allison. "r u awake? do u know about mom and snakes?"
He started pacing. Then he was afraid Mom might hear him. So he turned his light back down and opened his door a couple of inches so he could hear her if she got up again. He climbed under his covers and waited for Allison to respond. He was pretty sure she would be awake. She was in college, so she studied late a lot. He was just starting to feel like he might be able to sleep sometime tonight when his phone trilled. Allison’s response was "yes. lets talk tomoro. no danger. go to sleep."
Sam pulled Kleenex from the box and covered the snake. Then he put his phone back in his back pack, and laid down. Everything seemed okay again. The patterns of light from Mom’s TV played along the door of his bedroom. He could hear her snoring softly. Allison said it was okay, that there was no danger. So Mom was some freak of nature. Or maybe she really was some lesser Goddess of some archaic religion. Did it really matter? She was still his Mom and he loved her fiercely. Besides, if anybody ever messed with him, having a Mom with snakes for hair and four arms could come in handy.
Finally able to go back to sleep, Sam began to lightly snore.
Monday, May 18, 2009
ill equipped
I am ill equipped to handle this day.
It is Monday, another Monday without adequate employment. I am not sleeping well (again), the insomnia is beginning to return. Keeping my chin up is harder on Mondays than most days.
The career services director from my alma mater called today. She had been contacted by a reporter who is doing a report on recent law school grads who have opened their own law offices. I begged off, telling her that things are not going well. She asked if it was difficult to find clients. I told her it is. Somewhere in there I told her I am preparing to file bankruptcy, and that I am asking my litigation clients to find another attorney as I cannot advance case expenses.
Some how knowing something and saying it to someone else is different enough to bring on tears. Massive tears. At first it was just a few. And then I hopped in the shower. The sobbing started there. It is easier to cry in the shower isn't it? Anyway, the tears have come in waves, off and on all day. My eyes are puffy, my nose is runny. I look like I am ill.
I want to be done with this part of my life. If that means I have to give up being an attorney, I am willing to do that for some peace and security.
It is Monday, another Monday without adequate employment. I am not sleeping well (again), the insomnia is beginning to return. Keeping my chin up is harder on Mondays than most days.
The career services director from my alma mater called today. She had been contacted by a reporter who is doing a report on recent law school grads who have opened their own law offices. I begged off, telling her that things are not going well. She asked if it was difficult to find clients. I told her it is. Somewhere in there I told her I am preparing to file bankruptcy, and that I am asking my litigation clients to find another attorney as I cannot advance case expenses.
Some how knowing something and saying it to someone else is different enough to bring on tears. Massive tears. At first it was just a few. And then I hopped in the shower. The sobbing started there. It is easier to cry in the shower isn't it? Anyway, the tears have come in waves, off and on all day. My eyes are puffy, my nose is runny. I look like I am ill.
I want to be done with this part of my life. If that means I have to give up being an attorney, I am willing to do that for some peace and security.
Friday, May 15, 2009
The Double Post
I think this is my first double post (on the same day.)
For some reason, recent events in my life have me once again considering dating. Oh, I think about it frequently. But right now I am considering a plan to begin to date. The steps to take. The path I would want it to take. It has been some time since I have had a date. It was very difficult to date while in law school. The men there, the students, were mostly significantly younger than me, and the ones who weren't significantly younger were generally married or gay. Not that they weren't mostly scrumptious. Most were, and are, fine examples of the male. (whew let me tell ya!!)
Anyway.....moving on.......
I generally do not date. It is not a lack of desire for companionship (and ALL that entails.) It is a knowledge that I tend to attract very broken men. Men who cannot live without a woman to blame their inadequacies on, men who want a woman by their side for the mere look of it, men who need someone to take care of them.
Let me say there is nothing wrong with wanting to be seen with a woman at your side, or wanting someone who can take care of you when the need arises. BUT, it is simply not enough, not okay if your desire to have a woman in your life is MOSTLY for those reasons, or EVER so that you can say "oh it was her fault we didn't come to Sunday dinner" or any other blame game stupidity.
Also . . . the last guy who I really let into my life ended up having pedophilic tendencies. Yeah, makes you feel really special when you know the Wolf was living with your Little Red Riding Hoods, and YOU are the one who opened the door for him.
So I have an issue or two. We ALL have baggage or issues, whatever you want to call them. Anyone who believes they do not are stupid, crazy or so irresponsible I wouldn't want to know them anyway.
As I contemplate this dating thing, I keep remembering something a girlfriend of one of my brothers said to me when I was 14 or 15 years old. "You know you are never gonna get a boyfriend if you keep telling boys they are wrong." or something like that. She said this, Dear Rose did, as she sat on my brother's lap. I really looked up to her. Thought she was beautiful and fit with my brother. But regardless of my respect for her, I turned to her and said "If I tell a boy when he is wrong and that makes him not like me then I don't want him anyway." Or maybe I just said "So?" But you get the point.
I lost that attitude somewhere after that conversation. A fear, I think, of never having a guy. Now, I have it back. If a man can't stand up and be a man . . . if he wants to take the benefits of my cooking, my laundry, my bed, and in return tell me which Jiffy Lube he uses when my car needs an oil change, I don't need him. YES I would like to be held and cuddled and make love with a guy, but I want respect and love more.
So, maybe I will date. Maybe I won't. But I won't have another hateful or disrespectful man in my life. And, ladies, I have to tell you, there are a LOT of men/women/people (not to assume anything about your sexuality) who do not know how to be a good friend, lover, partner.
I am sick of waiting, but wait I will.
For some reason, recent events in my life have me once again considering dating. Oh, I think about it frequently. But right now I am considering a plan to begin to date. The steps to take. The path I would want it to take. It has been some time since I have had a date. It was very difficult to date while in law school. The men there, the students, were mostly significantly younger than me, and the ones who weren't significantly younger were generally married or gay. Not that they weren't mostly scrumptious. Most were, and are, fine examples of the male. (whew let me tell ya!!)
Anyway.....moving on.......
I generally do not date. It is not a lack of desire for companionship (and ALL that entails.) It is a knowledge that I tend to attract very broken men. Men who cannot live without a woman to blame their inadequacies on, men who want a woman by their side for the mere look of it, men who need someone to take care of them.
Let me say there is nothing wrong with wanting to be seen with a woman at your side, or wanting someone who can take care of you when the need arises. BUT, it is simply not enough, not okay if your desire to have a woman in your life is MOSTLY for those reasons, or EVER so that you can say "oh it was her fault we didn't come to Sunday dinner" or any other blame game stupidity.
Also . . . the last guy who I really let into my life ended up having pedophilic tendencies. Yeah, makes you feel really special when you know the Wolf was living with your Little Red Riding Hoods, and YOU are the one who opened the door for him.
So I have an issue or two. We ALL have baggage or issues, whatever you want to call them. Anyone who believes they do not are stupid, crazy or so irresponsible I wouldn't want to know them anyway.
As I contemplate this dating thing, I keep remembering something a girlfriend of one of my brothers said to me when I was 14 or 15 years old. "You know you are never gonna get a boyfriend if you keep telling boys they are wrong." or something like that. She said this, Dear Rose did, as she sat on my brother's lap. I really looked up to her. Thought she was beautiful and fit with my brother. But regardless of my respect for her, I turned to her and said "If I tell a boy when he is wrong and that makes him not like me then I don't want him anyway." Or maybe I just said "So?" But you get the point.
I lost that attitude somewhere after that conversation. A fear, I think, of never having a guy. Now, I have it back. If a man can't stand up and be a man . . . if he wants to take the benefits of my cooking, my laundry, my bed, and in return tell me which Jiffy Lube he uses when my car needs an oil change, I don't need him. YES I would like to be held and cuddled and make love with a guy, but I want respect and love more.
So, maybe I will date. Maybe I won't. But I won't have another hateful or disrespectful man in my life. And, ladies, I have to tell you, there are a LOT of men/women/people (not to assume anything about your sexuality) who do not know how to be a good friend, lover, partner.
I am sick of waiting, but wait I will.
Cars and the Economy
Things truly suck at this point. Not just for me, but for many. Car dealerships are being invited to no longer franchise with the companies they grew with for many years. So many will lose their jobs. It is a terrible and frightful situation. At the very least, it will prolong our economic recovery. At the very worst? Hey, I am not a doomsayer, but a dear friend is very concerned that the weaker the United States becomes, the easier it would be for another government to take us over. THAT would be the ultimate in sucki-ness in my opinion.
Hm. Car dealerships. Many years ago, I purchased a brand new car. The thing had something like 37 miles on it when I took delivery. It smelled wonderful! The paint job was a metallic black (not the proper name, but its been too long to recall the paint name) and changed color depending on the light. Ah she was beautiful!!! I wanted a smaller car with good gas mileage (I'd been driving a beat up old Ford mini-van that got 10 mpg.) I went to Saturn and purchased the car with little down and for 0% interest. (yeah, I had excellent credit back then.)
When I started law school, the old girl was still under warranty (don't ask me what parts were still under warranty, I just don't know, and now it doesn't matter.) And, now she is in her eighth year. Things go bad on older cars. It's a fact of life.
SO, the other day, it was hot in my area. Really really hot. I was preparing a pleading for a client and needed my Blue Book. It was not on the bookshelf or any of the random places I work and prepare for teaching. I thought it might be in the trunk. When I went to look, it was not there, so I looked in the passenger compartment. The book wasn't there either. The car interior was steaming hot though, and I rolled down ALL the windows.
I finished doing whatever I was doing, and headed out to teach. The temperature had climbed even more. I flipped on the AC. As soon as the air turned cool, I reached over and rolled up the back windows (the switch is on the console.) Soon the air was colder, and I reached over to roll up the front windows. Nothing happened. Thinking I had grabbed the back window controls again, my right hand searched for the front window buttons. Nada. I looked. NONE of the windows rolled up. All of them were stuck in the down position.
This happened once before, when the car was still under warranty. It was the window switch in the console. The next morning, I dropped my son at school and headed straight for the dealership near my house to purchase a new switch.
MUCH to my surprise, the dealership is gone. Gone. After a little investigation, I found that the dealer had 'resigned' his dealership a month ago. This particular dealership was the ONLY one in town. No, that isn't completely accurate, there were 3 locations, but all were owned by this one company. All three local dealerships are gone. The car that I have had for more than seven years no longer has an 'originating family' nearby.
I feel betrayed.
Are my windows working now? Long story short, the switch isn't the problem. I spent a solid week working on this issue, changing fuses, every male I know who works on cars has helped in one way or another with this. There were lots of chilly rides in the car (because being in the mid-west means your weather changes a lot and very quickly.) And, there were many days of the car sitting in the drive, under a tarp to keep the rain out. Luckily there was really only one day I needed my daughter to come and drive me places.
The windows are now UP, but non-functional. There is a wiring issue somewhere between the underhood fuse and the switch itself.
This spiral down needs to stop. We need to be able to level out and start the climb back. Please, please! let this stuff with the car companies be the last downward movement.
Hm. Car dealerships. Many years ago, I purchased a brand new car. The thing had something like 37 miles on it when I took delivery. It smelled wonderful! The paint job was a metallic black (not the proper name, but its been too long to recall the paint name) and changed color depending on the light. Ah she was beautiful!!! I wanted a smaller car with good gas mileage (I'd been driving a beat up old Ford mini-van that got 10 mpg.) I went to Saturn and purchased the car with little down and for 0% interest. (yeah, I had excellent credit back then.)
When I started law school, the old girl was still under warranty (don't ask me what parts were still under warranty, I just don't know, and now it doesn't matter.) And, now she is in her eighth year. Things go bad on older cars. It's a fact of life.
SO, the other day, it was hot in my area. Really really hot. I was preparing a pleading for a client and needed my Blue Book. It was not on the bookshelf or any of the random places I work and prepare for teaching. I thought it might be in the trunk. When I went to look, it was not there, so I looked in the passenger compartment. The book wasn't there either. The car interior was steaming hot though, and I rolled down ALL the windows.
I finished doing whatever I was doing, and headed out to teach. The temperature had climbed even more. I flipped on the AC. As soon as the air turned cool, I reached over and rolled up the back windows (the switch is on the console.) Soon the air was colder, and I reached over to roll up the front windows. Nothing happened. Thinking I had grabbed the back window controls again, my right hand searched for the front window buttons. Nada. I looked. NONE of the windows rolled up. All of them were stuck in the down position.
This happened once before, when the car was still under warranty. It was the window switch in the console. The next morning, I dropped my son at school and headed straight for the dealership near my house to purchase a new switch.
MUCH to my surprise, the dealership is gone. Gone. After a little investigation, I found that the dealer had 'resigned' his dealership a month ago. This particular dealership was the ONLY one in town. No, that isn't completely accurate, there were 3 locations, but all were owned by this one company. All three local dealerships are gone. The car that I have had for more than seven years no longer has an 'originating family' nearby.
I feel betrayed.
Are my windows working now? Long story short, the switch isn't the problem. I spent a solid week working on this issue, changing fuses, every male I know who works on cars has helped in one way or another with this. There were lots of chilly rides in the car (because being in the mid-west means your weather changes a lot and very quickly.) And, there were many days of the car sitting in the drive, under a tarp to keep the rain out. Luckily there was really only one day I needed my daughter to come and drive me places.
The windows are now UP, but non-functional. There is a wiring issue somewhere between the underhood fuse and the switch itself.
This spiral down needs to stop. We need to be able to level out and start the climb back. Please, please! let this stuff with the car companies be the last downward movement.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
The good, the bad, the unnecessary . . .
I am trying to embrace the time off, the rules of the unemployment office, and the impending bankruptcy (the attorney I called and I keep playing phone tag.) It is hard, in my opinion, to embrace things we do not want in our lives. It is so much easier to slip off the edge into depression. But it's not as easy to slip from depression into something deeper, something requiring good meds and a soft room.
There is a bouncy bottom to depression. Most people, I think, hit that bouncy bottom, and don't slip further down that slope. The bouncy bottom is named Hope. Sometimes Hope sucks a big green donkey dong. Seriously. How many times can you bounce before you are sick of the ride? Sick of the ride and begin to desire the muck of falling deeper into some mental disability?
Something, who knows what, has kept me from sliding off that rubbery bottom and completely into the muck. I have very good friends. And my family is around a bit . . . more than they've been in a while. And, despite this feeling of death, of some part of me dying, I am not dead. I must go on. The part of me that died had apparently outlived its usefulness.
I have things to do, decisions to make. I have time, finally, to get rid of the rest of the crap my ex-husband left in this house. No money to do it with, but I'll figure something out I guess. I've gotten rid of a LOT of it. He had a 2 car garage packed full, plus stuff (computer parts, broken furniture) around the house. After he moved, the garage was still mostly full, just not to the ceiling anymore. We, the kids and I, threw away a lot of it or gave it away, but there are still things down there that need to be tossed or given away. And then there are the things he left to be spiteful, the things he kept for no good reason; the old twin beds, the mostly used cans of paint, used tires. The computer parts are mostly gone. I thought completely gone, but there is still a very old monitor and some other stuff downstairs.
You know, that is a good analogy for this guy. He kept everything, the good, the bad, the unnecessary. Then, instead of sorting through and keeping the good and useful, he would just grab what he needed at the moment and move on. He certainly treated the marriage that way. When he did not understand something, instead of discussing it with me, he would make decisions on his own, and then expect everyone else to know what they were, agree to them, and follow them. He 'grabbed what he needed' and left the rest behind. Including me.
It's a huge "whatever" except that I am still having to walk around the crap he left in the garage. Most days I haven't wanted to look at it. I still don't want to, but it needs to leave and he sure isn't coming back to get it.
There is a bouncy bottom to depression. Most people, I think, hit that bouncy bottom, and don't slip further down that slope. The bouncy bottom is named Hope. Sometimes Hope sucks a big green donkey dong. Seriously. How many times can you bounce before you are sick of the ride? Sick of the ride and begin to desire the muck of falling deeper into some mental disability?
Something, who knows what, has kept me from sliding off that rubbery bottom and completely into the muck. I have very good friends. And my family is around a bit . . . more than they've been in a while. And, despite this feeling of death, of some part of me dying, I am not dead. I must go on. The part of me that died had apparently outlived its usefulness.
I have things to do, decisions to make. I have time, finally, to get rid of the rest of the crap my ex-husband left in this house. No money to do it with, but I'll figure something out I guess. I've gotten rid of a LOT of it. He had a 2 car garage packed full, plus stuff (computer parts, broken furniture) around the house. After he moved, the garage was still mostly full, just not to the ceiling anymore. We, the kids and I, threw away a lot of it or gave it away, but there are still things down there that need to be tossed or given away. And then there are the things he left to be spiteful, the things he kept for no good reason; the old twin beds, the mostly used cans of paint, used tires. The computer parts are mostly gone. I thought completely gone, but there is still a very old monitor and some other stuff downstairs.
You know, that is a good analogy for this guy. He kept everything, the good, the bad, the unnecessary. Then, instead of sorting through and keeping the good and useful, he would just grab what he needed at the moment and move on. He certainly treated the marriage that way. When he did not understand something, instead of discussing it with me, he would make decisions on his own, and then expect everyone else to know what they were, agree to them, and follow them. He 'grabbed what he needed' and left the rest behind. Including me.
It's a huge "whatever" except that I am still having to walk around the crap he left in the garage. Most days I haven't wanted to look at it. I still don't want to, but it needs to leave and he sure isn't coming back to get it.
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