"If only we'd stop trying to be happy, we could have a pretty good time."
- Edith Wharton

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

On Confessions and Cosmetics

I have a confession to make. I've been putting off writing this post for a couple days now because I know what you guys are going to think. Hopefully you aren't as judgmental as R, who told me he doesn't want to hear another word about it.

So here goes: P and I are back together.

I know, I know, what am I thinking? First, I didn't go running back, even though it was tempting. He was the one who asked if we could talk through the problems. Which we did, pretty calmly and openly. He apologized for not being there when I moved and said that he does love me and wants to be there for me and be a part of my life. He admitted he isn't very good at expressing that. :) We talked about why our recent disagreements got so out of hand and how to better manage them in the future. It all felt very grown-up.

I guess time will tell whether this was a true turning point or just another phase in a bad cycle. I'm proud that I spoke up for what I wanted and didn't compromise. So judge if you will. I can take it.

And now for a total change of pace ...

Miracle product alert: Maybelline Great Lash *Waterproof* Mascara
I've read countless raves over the years about how great Maybelline Great Lash is, but it never really worked for me. I've tried at least a dozen other brands -- high and low end -- but nothing was quite right. They were too clumpy, too heavy, made my lashes look fake, etc. So I decided to give Great Lash another shot, but this time I bought the waterproof formula. And it's perfect! No clumps, no garish fake-lash look, just nice, pretty, long lashes. Hooray!

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Out of Focus

Wow, this is hard. I miss P a lot and it's taking all my energy not to go running back. There's just enough there to make it tough to remember that ultimately, there isn't enough.

When I first tried to break up with P back in March (pre-blog; it lasted a week and was basically about the same thing as this one), he played it cool. I got no sense that he missed me or wished things were different ... nothing. With a complete absence of dignity, I went crawling back anyway. It wasn't my strongest, I-am-woman moment, but I have no regrets. We had a ton of great times after that, and I learned so much more about myself.

Now, he's not playing it so cool. When I asked for my Netflix DVDs back (I always left them at his place so we could watch together), he reluctantly returned them saying, "you know we can still watch movies together." I told him I'd like that at some point, but not just yet. There's no way I could spend time with him right now and have it be purely platonic.

It's so hard to stay focused on what I ultimately want because it's all so abstract. Sure, *someday* *someone* will love me back. But what about *right now*? Someday feels fuzzy and far away. The someone is even more out of focus. It's a leap of faith to believe he exists out there and an even bigger leap to give up what I have right now based on the belief that something better is possible.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Back in the Saddle

It's official, I'm single again. I broke it off with P on Tuesday night. He was sadder and sweeter about it than I expected. I was sad, but not inconsolable, as I was during our almost-breakup back in June. It sounds silly and a bit crazy, but that Duck Song really helped me finally understand and accept. I love P, and I will (and do) miss him a lot. But he can't love me back, or at least not in the way I need. I'm still very sad, but I get now that while I genuinely do miss him and the good parts of what we had, what I am really grieving is the loss of what I WISH we'd had.

Last night I was sorting through some boxes that I have hauled from attic to attic for years, forcing myself to decide what could get tossed. It was fun to find old keepsakes, many of which I loved, but had forgotten. I put many of them out to display last night and while it probably makes my house look a little cluttered in spots, I love seeing these treasures again. The cool/scary sword I bought in Portugal, all the oil paintings I did before I had kids (which are mediocre at best, but, hey, I made them!), the gorgeous conch shells exH and I brought back from our honeymoon. Among the memories were a bunch of old letters from ex-boyfriends, plus a journal I kept briefly my senior year in college. Wow, were those eye-opening! I cannot believe the hysterics I worked myself into over these guys. Even though I repeated some of those patterns with P (which is hard to admit; I was trying so hard!), I am glad that I've at least been more rational and mature in how I've handled myself and how I came to see the relationship for what it was.

That's all for now. I hope this blog won't become too boring without all the tortured tales of P! I'm going to embrace being single for awhile, but I hope someday there will be new romantic adventures to report.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Got Any Grapes?

Yesterday, R sent me a link to The Duck Song, which his kids love. Go ahead, watch it if you have a sec. If you don't have time, or like me, refuse to click on most of the links people recommend, here's a brief recap. A cute, but annoying duck waddles up to a lemonade stand and asks for grapes. The nice man explains that he doesn't sell grapes, only lemonade. The scene is repeated day after day and the nice man becomes increasingly irritated with this obtuse duck who just doesn't get it.


My initial reaction was to be a bit irked with R for making me watch this inane video. My second reaction was to hope that Boo never sees it, as we already play our our own little version of this drama every day when he insists on eating or wearing something that I just don't have at the moment. Over and over.
But after pondering it overnight, I had a revelation. I'm the duck. Stick with me here, you might be a duck too. How many times have I persisted in asking or hoping for something from someone that they simply don't have to give? Take ExH. For years, I asked him for time, attention, involvement in our life together. I asked him to get help for his ADD, anger, and drinking issues. I asked him to be engaged and loving to our children. I asked over and over, for years and years. And nothing ever changed. Because he was simply not capable of giving me those things. Yet I kept asking, growing increasingly angry and unhappy.
Now, this is not to excuse his behavior or in any way suggest that I should have put up and shut up. It's just to help understand my actions in the situation. It seems clear to me now that I was just as irrational in some ways as I thought he was. What I wanted and needed was perfectly reasonable, but what sane person repeatedly asks for grapes at a lemonade stand? It seems to me that a sane person (or duck!) would do one of the following things:

1. Walk away and head to the nearest produce stand.

2. Decide lemonade might be as satisfying as grapes and enjoy a glass.

3. Ask whether the lemonade stand would consider stocking grapes (if not, see #1).

It's like Einstein's famous definition of insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. I've been doing this with P, too, and not surprisingly, every time he failed to produce the grapes, I was disappointed. But still I kept going back, day after day, hoping the results would somehow change. No wonder I was making myself crazy!
(Now, if you watched the clip, you might wonder how the ending fits with my analogy. It doesn't really. Sorry to disappoint!)

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

So Here We Are

You know that old saying "wherever you go, there you are"? Well, here we are on the other side of what may have been the most challenging, exhausting month of my adult life. We are moved in (mostly, please ignore the 20 or so unpacked boxes scattered about), and more importantly, moved out. The old place is clean and empty and ready for the impending Canadian invasion. I feel a lot of things right now ... relieved, bone-tired, satisfied, alone (in a good way), alone (in a bad way), disoriented, and at home.

Overall, moving went as well as it could, and there were a few surprises along the way.

1. ExH was incredibly helpful, thoughtful, and kind. Whether he was feeling remorse for his behavior or started taking his medication again, I don't know, but he was (and no, I can't believe I'm saying this either) a godsend. He took my car to get fixed when the battery died the day before the move (and waited for it for four hours), packed up the last of the kitchen for me, did all sorts of little last-minute tasks, dealt with the movers, and most importantly, kept me company throughout the entire 12-hour process. Whatever he's done in the past and will undoubtedly do in the future, I'm grateful for those two days.

2. God, I have a lot of stuff. While not exactly headline news, I was completely floored by how many boxes I ended up needing (and now, unpacking).

3. Painting ceilings can cause you to lose sensation in several fingers on your right hand ... which has still not come back after almost a week. Also, painting ceilings should never, ever, ever be attempted at night. Just take my word on that please.

4. I need a wheelbarrow. Now THAT is a phrase this city girl never thought she would say.

5. It is substantially harder to move furniture on carpet than it is on hardwood. See Exhibits A and B, my very bruised legs.

The good news (other than that it's over!) is that the kids' rooms came out so well and they were absolutely thrilled. Boo's room is still waiting on Superman and Batman to join Spidey on the walls, but otherwise they are done. Please note, the yellow is much warmer and softer than it came out in the photo. Oddly, the pink is pretty accurate.

The rest of the house is a work in progress. I'm pleased but not overjoyed with how my living room colors turned out. I played it safe with lighter shades, which while pretty, don't have quite the impact I envisioned. So there may be some repainting in my near future.

You may notice that P is pretty much absent from this post. The weekend before I moved, he was so helpful and we had a fabulous few days together until right before he left on Sunday. We got into the stupidest argument ever (which was I'm guessing, in the tradition of all great stupid arguments, really about something else entirely, though I can't say what) and then I barely saw him last week. Not even a quick email or IM to check in on me during the move, or to ask about weekend plans, nothing.

I think I may be ready, finally, to let P go. It's so hard and sad because there's so much that's great with us. But I feel like I am holding up the entire relationship and my arms are tired. I wish so much that P could be what I need him to be, but it seems increasingly clear (and if I'm honest, it always was) that he's just not willing or able to be that guy. I don't blame him -- he is who he is -- and I am grateful for all that I have learned from him and all he has done and been for me. He's one of the coolest people I've ever met and if this is really it, I will miss him and our long talks about nothing and everything.