End Of Limbo, at Least for Catholics

and just like that, there was no more limbo.

I think the most telling part of the story is this:

The document published Friday said the question of limbo has become a "matter of pastoral urgency" because of the growing number of babies who do not receive the baptismal rite. Especially in Africa and other parts of the world where Catholicism is growing but has competition from other faiths such as Islam, high infant-mortality rates mean many families live with a church teaching them that their babies could not go to heaven.

Although this part was equally blunt:

It would also deprive Catholic leaders of a tool in their fight against abortion, Wolfe said. Priests have long told women that their aborted fetuses cannot go to heaven, which in theory was another argument against ending pregnancy. Without limbo, those fetuses would presumably no longer be denied communion with God.

The whole thing is ridiculous, but at least in this case, the lunacy is utterly transparent.

You Ever?

Write a blog post about one thing on your mind, only to realize it can easily be interpreted to apply to something else entirely? You can either delete or laugh at the sense of humor of the internet karma gods.

I have a friend (K) who has a friend going through a mountain of shit right now. Said friend's friend has completely withdrawn, isolated and cut everyone off because that's what she does when she gets backed into a corner. Burns bridges, crosses lines, all of that.

I guess I'll never understand those people. I think that is attributable to the manner in which I grew up. You could leave an entire country behind, only to run into a former friend in a new country, in a new school, with all of the old wounds unresolved. That happened more than I ever thought possible.

(Random story: There was a completely dorky guy in Saudi who had almost every annoying and unattractive quality and tic. Coke bottle glasses, spit when he spoke, generally nerdy, etc. I wasn't as big of an asshole to him as most, but I certainly wasn't friendly. Fast forward many years later and he is living in the country my parents were in. My parents had his family over for dinner and he was still a dork, albeit an older dork and one I could relate to better with the wisdom of a few more years of life experience. He and I ended up going on a trip that weekend that remains one of the better vacations I've ever taken.)

Another thing I'll never understand is the failure to directly communicate. So sayeth the recent divorcee, so there is plenty of irony poisoning on all fronts. In the early to middle parts of my marriage, direct communication was the norm - almost to a fault. If B had an issue? Oh I heard about it immediately - loud and clear, and the same was generally true from me, although I fancied myself a better communicator. It wasn't until the last two years that we stopped really communicating with each other and started avoiding.

That is the case with most of my relationships, especially my family. We are startlingly direct. Painfully so, much of the time, at least among the siblings. I am so much more comfortable with direct, head on collision, full on body contact communication. Put all the cards are on the table and there is a chance for resolution (not necessarily reconciliation, but resolution). Passive aggressive is not my style, doesn't look good on anyone and doesn't solve anything beyond perpetuating conflict. It continues to amaze me how many people don't realize that.

Reality is a Harsh Mistress

You ever feel like you finally have your shit together and your head screwed on properly, only to realize that you have just been sticking your head farther in the sand than you ever thought possible? That you weren't moving forward or anything approximating that, but really just sinking past several red flagged false bottoms with willful blindness? That for as fast as you thought you were running, it was just in circles and -- by the way -- running in circles? Makes you dizzy and disoriented.

When you find yourself confronting such a reality, you have several distasteful options:

1. You can continue the pattern unabated and throw yourself firmly and permanently under the bus. Flame the hell out and really see it through to the true bottom. There is a certain commitment with this option and it very may well end in white jackets and medications. At the very least, you saw it through.

2. You can wallow in your stupidity and revel in the fact that you're soaking in it. This could involve anything from never leaving your bed to tearful drunk dials to "friends" whom you haven't spoken with in years. I am fairly confident this option ends in a wholesale adoption of The Secret or some other self help mantra, which will make you popular with your more well-adjusted friends. Particularly when you offer your insights once you've figured it all out.

3. Denial. Pretend you had it together the whole time and act "as if." As if you were always in on the joke and always knew you weren't fooling anyone. It takes some steely nerves to pull this one off and almost no one will buy it, but if you stick to the script, you can at least be consistent. Consistency should not be underrated.

4. Own it entirely. Confront it, take responsibility for it, learn from it, change your behavior, one step at a time, and don't let it paralyze you. The only way to make progress and move forward is to build some momentum towards where you are trying to go and momentum requires steps forward, no matter how small.

4 is my lucky number, so I'm going to circle that choice.

The Story of Tiffany

Very few people who know me personally haven't heard me tell this story, but I truly love telling it. It is the story of the most important lesson a friend has ever taught me.

I met Tiffany in college - we both lived in the "rich bitch" dorm (although in my defense, I didn't know that when I signed up to live there). She was roommates with Hilarie, who is worthy of several blog entries herself. Hilarie and I were good friends, as were Tiffany and I, but the friendships couldn't have been more different. Those two were as different as night and day - Hilarie remains one of the most beautiful friends I've ever had, and with great beauty usually comes some personal issues. Hilarie was no exception, despite bearing a striking similarity to Paulina Por...whateverthefuckherRussiannameis. Tiffany was also a beauty, albeit in a girl next door sort of way. Long, gorgeous brown hair, big blue eyes, the unmistakable aura of a girl raised in the right part of Houston (River Oaks). Refined. Mannered. Polite. Good breeding.

(By way of contrast, I'll never forget asking Hilarie if my ass looked fat in a particular pair of shorts, just a few minutes before heading out to a party. She said -- and I quote, nearly 20 years later -- K, are you going to do squats and drop five pounds tonight? No? Then don't worry how your ass looks like. You can't do fuck all about it right now. Looking good is a state of mind and if you think you look fat, you'll look fat to everyone.) It probably comes as no surprise to know Hilarie and I are still friends. And I have never since asked that question right before I go out.

In any event, Tiffany and I ended up moving to the same apartment complex during our sophomore year. Tiffany was the very model of anal retentive -- seriously, she and B would have been a great match in that regard. Her place was not lived in - it looked like a museum, especially her closet. My place, on the other hand? A loft - very hip, very lived in. We never hung out at her place - we were always at mine. We worked at the same restaurant at night and took classes by day. Tiffany had financial issues owing to her dad's declining bond business while I was (partially) supported by my parents. I had a solid safety net, even if I never used it. Her family, however, was in real financial trouble.

The financial issues became pretty intense and she had to drop out and work full time to keep her apartment. She didn't have a car, either, so there were transportation issues to boot. Then the depression came. She was prone to the "can't get out of bed" moments that I couldn't fully (or even partially) understand at the time. She basically lived at my place whenever I was home and that? Got a little exhausting. I began relishing my nights out with others (including Hilarie, who couldn't stand Tiffany), even though I positively loved Tiffany.

The whole thing came to a head that December, when her dad had to come to Austin to move her back home. She was really troubled and blue and the three jobs had exhausted her. She had gained 40 pounds, she didn't like herself and nothing was going right for her. She needed to recharge. When she left, I hugged her and promised her I would come to Houston the next weekend and see her. Truth was, I had no intention of doing that. I was secretly relieved, as she was ALWAYS at my place and I felt responsible for her happiness, which was elusive. I am generally a pretty upbeat person and had no experience with her kind of depression.* As they drove away, I actually felt lighter. No more taking care of Tiffany - emotionally, financially, socially, etc.

The next week, if memory serves, I called her (I think I got voice mail) and gave some utter bullshit excuse on why I couldn't come that weekend. I lied. I was so looking forward to my first weekend alone, with no obligations. I told her I would be there the next weekend, and the next weekend, I didn't call and dodged her phone calls. Knowing she would be mad and hurt, I didn't call her that weekend - or the next week. Which gave way to another week, then another.

That was December. I didn't speak to Tiffany for six months. I missed our birthdays (days apart), important milestones in our personal lives, etc. Tiffany didn't call me, either. She was understandably disgusted with me. I abandoned her when she probably needed a friend the most. It was a shitty, shitty, self-centered thing to do.

Come July, I was ready to move to WA. I was done with TX - we weren't a good fit, me and TX. It caused all sorts of family strife, but I decided to move "home" (even though I had never lived here for more than 3 mos at a time since I was 7, WA was home to me). I couldn't leave, knowing I had burned that bridge. I believe in friendship more than anyone I know. There are no sins beyond forgiveness when it comes to true friendship. I hoped Tiffany felt the same way.

I called her at work and when she answered, I said "please don't hang up. This is K. I owe you a tremendous apology and if you will give me a few minutes, I'd like to offer it." She said "hold on, I'm going in the back" -- she then worked retail -- and got back on the phone and said "okay, K, go." I said "Tiffany, I owe you such an apology. I valued our friendship and took so many actions contrary to that friendship. I have no excuse other than a failure of my character. I am so very sorry. You earned more consideration over the course of our friendship and I completely fucked up. I am sorry, I thank you for your friendship and I hope that one day, you will once again consider me a friend. I am moving to WA next week and couldn't leave TX without saying goodbye to the best part of TX. I love you and thank you for one of the better friendships of my life."

The line went quiet and I thought she might have hung up. She then said "Are you driving to WA?" I said yes and she asked when. She then put me on hold and came back a few minutes later, asking the dates of my travel. She said "Do you have room for a passenger?" I confess that this nonsap burst into tears and said "yes, for you, yes." To make this long story short, she flew to Austin, we went and watched Thelma and Louise (oh fuck off, I was young) and we drove to Washington from Texas, evaluating chicken fried steak at every roadside diner we stopped at along the way. It was one of the best experiences of my life. The pictures alone are great.

At one point during the trip, I asked her why she was there and why she forgave me for my unspeakable acts against our friendship. She looked me dead in the eye - this refined girl next door from Houston -- and said "K, you owed me an apology and you gave it the right way. No conditions, no excuses. We all fuck up, when it comes to friendship, we're allowed to fuck up. We have friendship. We will be friends when we are old, ugly and flabby. We're allowed to fuck up, so long as we acknowledge the fuck ups and talk about them. You fucked up, you apologized, I forgave you and we still have the friendship that we spent a long time building." She probably said the f-word more in that speech than she did in our (then) three year friendship.

I got it. I really did. You don't burn bridges, you don't draw lines in the sand, not with people you love. The relationship can change - that is to be expected -- but once you love someone, male or female, really love them? I don't think I can ever really hate them. Tiffany was the first person I called after I took the bar exam. That is probably telling on other levels, but I digress. I will always love B, too, even if right now? I'm pretty indifferent. Friendship is just pretty sacred to me. I don't burn bridges and I don't commit sins beyond forgiveness. Tiffany - this rich bitch girl from River Oaks? She taught me that. And there are few days where I don't remember that whole thing. Friends are the family you choose. I believe in that.

*I had a week in November, 2004, where I slept all the time and took five days off work. I finally understood the "don't want to get out of bed" thing. I had a similar experience in August, 2006. I didn't eat for days and was utterly unmotivated. I can't imagine battling that every day. I don't pretend to understand it now, but at least have some personal experience with the overwhelming thoughts of heavy sadness.

I SAIL!

One of the stranger things I've discovered after a few years of being a practicing attorney is that I am almost the opposite of the stereotypical shark lawyer. I don't crave conflict and, for the most part, am much more geared toward resolution. So much of the job is trying to resolve conflicts, even though the perception is that attorneys are bloodthirsty opportunists.

Reading back over this blog, I realize that is true in my personal life. I didn't pick many fights during the course of the divorce. I was so angry at so many times and so hurt, but it never really occurred to me to launch a battle. B was always so capable of getting angrier and meaner than I could ever muster and truthfully, living in that state of mind was so far from where I wanted to be. It isn't stable and never leads to anything positive and rewarding.

The relationship as I knew it ended. Both our faults. We both let it end. It was probably just time, as we were no longer working towards the same thing. I am just as responsible as B - he just pushed the issue to the forefront. We both buried our heads in the sand during the separation and completely ignored the issue. I said (at the time) that I was waiting for a grand gesture from him, to show me that he would do anything and everything to keep the story of us together. I really believed that at the time, but in hindsight, where everything is clear, the truth is that I while I was not quite ready to surrender the idea of that story, I didn't do everything and anything to keep us together. I just sort of avoided it and escaped elsewhere.

I regret that the most, I think. I lost a few years, numbing the fuck out and not really working towards becoming the woman and person I really want to be. I think I am just now on that road and it is a daunting road ahead. There is certainly value in learning from my mistakes and not repeating them, so I spend a certain amount of time revisiting the mistakes of my past. Humbling, that. Humiliating, even. But I am working not to dwell on it - it is now out of my control - I can't rewrite history or revise it to support a different conclusion. But I can make changes now and rewrite the future. One that veers away from the mistakes and missteps of the past.

That seems entirely more productive that rubber necking over my shoulder and wallowing in regret. Forgiveness is perhaps the most proactive thing I can do, both of B and of myself. Forgiveness requires humility and self-awareness and acknowledgement and ownership of your mistakes, and ultimately, it also assures forward movement. I need to build some momentum and I think it begins with a pretty thorough accounting. I am almost there and that feels like considerable progress.

This sounds remarkably like a fucking self help post. It isn't intended to be. I've just found that writing this shit down? Really giving it some quality and intense analysis? Well, that kicks the shit out of self pity and regret and is something I can do to take control when my thoughts become defeating. At the end of the day, I have to look myself in the mirror and question whether I am proud of who I am.

Getting there. Baby stepping like Bob.

Chasing Pea

I have never really used this as a place to dump my random links, but fuck it. I'm in the mood.

I have a current love affair with this song. Yes, it is ridiculously cheesy. Yes, I have a thing for voices in harmony. Yes, it strikes a chord with me right now. I make no apologies.



Incidentally, I like that song in part because it reminded me of this scene in Six Feet Under, which didn't really work at the time but I now appreciate.

Also, as a companion piece to my last post, I submit that Clooney shares my general malaise with the internet. Coincidence? I think not.

Meat and Greet

Well, long time no blog. I have had a few soul searching weeks and have come to the conclusion that I don't much care for the internets at the moment. This is primarily owing to my mistakes and errors in judgment. No matter how much it may seem otherwise, items appear differently on the internet than they appear in your mind. It is a social distortion of day to day reality and everyone plays a part of that distortion, even yourself.

Fuck - even I don't understand that last sentence. And no, this has nothing to do with my online married friend. Not anywhere near that ballpark.

But I am nothing if not competitive and the pea is outblogging me and that? I cannot abide. Also, I started this whole thing is a chronicle of where I was and where I was headed. I wish I had stuck to it better, as I have reviewed some of my conversations in the past three months and I realize I wasn't doing as well as I thought. As a wise mentor once told me, you can either strain yourself looking behind you or put your efforts into moving forward. As another wise friend also reminded me, some of my most important relationships and friendships originated online and not everything is distorted.

Along those lines, I am going to meet one of my favorite people from the internets tomorrow, even though I have broken up with the internets for the forseeable future. N has been an internet friend from the beginning and very high on the short list of folks I wanted to meet in person. I think that is because certain friends and relationships transcend the internets and become part of your meatspace existence, even if you haven't met. Other relationships never really ever leave the internet, even if you meet them in meatspace. In any event, I will be meeting N and having meat at some point.

Pea will NOT outblog me

I can't get this song out of my head

I haven't been this crazy about a song in a long time. I first heard it at the conclusion of the Black Donnelly's pilot. If you haven't seen this show, you're missing out - can't believe it is network television. Go here to watch the episodes for free! Free!

I am less that two weeks out from the conclusion of my marriage. I have much to blog about that before I sleep.

Andy

This is the point where I start to confess my infidelities in my marriage. Not your run-of-the-mill affairs, but rather affairs of the heart. I preface all of this by saying that I believe in the power of crushes -- I really do -- but Andy was a little different. And I own my part in the demise of my marriage.

Okay - some background. Law school. This would take forever to fully explain, but suffice to say, I always knew I was headed to law school eventually. Knew that as a pre-teen. When I met B, however, I had just moved to the States (had been here three years) and was just a kid (21 when I met him). Granted, I had spent three years in TX, but that was as much a foreign country as any place I had lived. I was about a year and a half away from graduating college when I finally left TX and came to where I belonged. I was in TX for all the wrong reasons, but that is a post for another time.

So yeah. Came to WA in the summer of '91. Moved in with real dad. Bad fight with stepdad ensued. Met B in the spring of '92 at UW. I'll tell that story another time, but I was enchanted by him. We were living together (again, age 21) by the fall (never planned on that, but I was housesitting and he just came and never left). He had started a business a few weeks before we went on our first date, and by the third or fourth date, I was his partner. We just fit.

I'll skip over the next few years, as they aren't relevant to this post, but we started another successful business and had a lot of adventures together. Thing is, they weren't really my adventures -- I was just along for the ride and game for anything. I stopped going to college full time and threw myself into these adventures and I don't regret a day of it. I learned so much - I call it my real-world MBA. But about 1997 (we married in '94), I realized I wanted something of my own again and not to be B's supporting player.

Long story - I ended up finally graduating (which is funny, as I graduated high school in three years but took nearly 9 to get my degree). I studied and prepared my ass off and I got a really high LSAT score -- enough to get me into almost anywhere. Except I was vain and didn't want a reject notice -- to this day, I regret not applying to a few schools. I applied to a ton of schools, even though we were firmly grounded in Seattle. I am a nomad at heart, I think, plus I knew I probably needed to get away from B to have my own identity.

I accepted a full ride to ND (I wanted to go to Georgetown, but that was vetoed as too far away, as was NYU, plus B is Irish and loved the idea of me at ND), and although there was early talk of B coaching soccer at ND, he got a position at his current company. For whatever reason, it didn't seem weird to me for us to be apart for this. We were always nonconventional and we could do this.

Looking back, I needed to get away. I wasn't cut out for a supporting role and wanted something that I alone could accomplish and be proud of.

Holy fuck - so long and not even to Andy.

So in law school, I was happily married chick who wasn't looking to date but still fun to hang out with. Most of my best friends from law school are men, as a result, as the women friends were suspicious and jealous of those relationships. School B (again, another post) was my best friend -- we became close the day we really met. There was great chemistry between us, but sort of a "never-the-twain-shall-meet" chemistry. I kept hearing about this guy named Andy who was "hysterical," "awesome," "smart," "irreverant." We were in different sections in law school and had never met.

Cue to post-first-semester-law-school-exams. We finally met and I would be lying if I didn't admit I had a total crush on him before I met him. And then I met him. Oh dear lord, was he my type. Twinkling eyes, great smile, great personality, completely confident -- we were doomed. Within minutes of us meeting, we had our arms wrapped around each other (friendly) and were flirting and laughing like you wouldn't believe. It was a blast - we had a great connection. Both of our respective friend groups saw it and were worried someone would get hurt, most likely Andy. His friends dragged him away from me and so did mine (School B - again, a story for another time). I left that night not knowing where he was, but being ushered into a cab.

Turns out, Andy was pretty bummed to learn I was happily married chick and left the bar on foot. This was IN in December and ice was everywhere. He had been drinking and was a little down on himself and ended up slipping and breaking his nose. I was deemed the cause of his injury.

(I went home that x-mas and B and I took our first trip to the courthouse, ostensibly to file divorce or separation papers. We chickened out and decided we could weather anything)

Came back to ND and his friends had built a fortress around him. No contact with me whatsoever. I spent that second semester at an arm's length from him, until ST. Patty's Day. Big occasion at an Irish Catholic school. We both went to a party and eventually, were back in the same position. Laughing, talking politics, talking sports -- it was again very bad. Our friends again removed us from one another, but we kept sneaking back. Chemistry is a wild thing.

We ended up sneaking out of the back together, laughing how everyone had such impure thoughts about us. Then we walked to his place and ended up watching a tape of him on the Congressional floor (yes, these things are interesting to me). At one point he became rather emotional and told me that I had to leave. I obliged, ashamed, and he grabbed me and kissed me.

I won't lie. It was a great kiss.

But Andy then felt really conflicted (also? Andy? lone Jewish guy at ND), as, of course, did I. This was beyond a flirtation -- this was toe curling chemistry. We lived close to each other and I needed to clear my head, so I said I would walk home. Andy is nothing if not a gentleman and kept saying "the cab is coming." I needed to walk.

When I got home, there was a message on my machine. "Am utterly crazy about you and can't be. I can't see you anymore."

I have a few more stories about Andy in the next year, but that was pretty much it. The saddest day I can remember was the day I left ND. He saw me packing my books and came up to me, cupped my face, and said "you were the one." I felt very much the same way, except he loved IN and I hate the midwest. He ended up marrying the girl he told me he could never love as he loved me. I haven't spoken to him since the day he held my face in his hands and said that.

All this came to light, as a friend needed an attorney in Indy. I looked him up and he isn't listed right now. I have to hope that he is on some Democrat's campaign. He will, MARK MY WORDS, be the governor of Indiana some day.

Timing is everything, and Andy and I didn't have timing. Still adore him, though

Insanity

So I am so very tired of speaking about my divorce and all that, but I want to write this out so I remember it.

Yes. B has new girlfriend and new life. As do I. Life is moving the fuck on. Good times.

He called me yesterday (N.B. - this blog entry took me two days to compile, so this was Tuesday) to "update me" on all things B. I laughed, made a few remarks about how I am not interested in his life. Such is divorce. Not his wife, friend, attorney or lover. Don't care. We shared a few joking moments about my need to know everything and some remnants of our former life. Is awkward -- this whole thing. But at the end, I was feeling cool about where I am. Not angry, not bitter, just not wanting to be involved. It isn't my role anymore. I was content and I thought I made the point. Not your best friend. Not your attorney. Not your touchstone. Not your lover. Talk to your girlfriend about this shit. I don't care.

Next day (yesterday), I am totally under the bus at work and am about to start an at least two hour conference call with a very demanding client. B calls and says "do you have a minute? I need to ask you a question." I said "you have five minutes -- go." He said "no, I need more than five minutes, call me later." We go back and forth with me asking him to just tell me what the hell it is, but he won't budge. I get off the phone wondering WTF is the latest drama. Divorce related? Is he going to fuck with my hearing date? WTF?

Conference call has an abrupt end half an hour later and I get a phone call from J (his employee), who opens the call with "have you spoken to B?" Oh shit - this is bigger and worse than I thought. I said "no, he wouldn't tell me what was up -- WTF is up?" J tells me that B absolutely lost it at work - unleashed on his CFO. Unleashed has a different meaning here - when B loses his shit, all bets are off. He said some incredibly actionable things to his CFO (a woman), including cunt, "glad you never had kids," etc. Really bad. Is a cunt's hair away from losing his job, quite frankly.

Q. Why is this my problem?
A. It isn't, except I always rescue B.

Inevitable phone call with B ensues, wherein he relates his most recent act of self-destruction. I lay into him about how I am not his problem-solver anymore, these are inevitable consequences of being an asshole, blah blah. I finally said "B, what is your gut instinct to solve this problem?" His answer? "to call you."

Holy fuck. I have a decision to make. Tell him to man up and solve it himself or do what I believed at the time was the right thing - solve the fucking problem. So I said some unkind things about how I shouldn't be doing this shit, but gave him the right advice and solution to solve the problem (hint: it involves an unqualified apology to the CFO and a lot of humility). I am brutal in my advice but very specific in its application and he says "okay, I am going to do exactly what you said. I know I don't deserve this conversation, K, and you are an amazing person to do this."

No shit, Sherlock. I unleash a few more barbs, then tell him to get it done.

So here we are today -- big day where he has to somehow undo what he did, following my advice. As he is utterly wont to do, he followed it but put his own stupid, idiotic twists on it that changed it from a solution to a band aid, but the man is still employed.

You probably are expecting the paragraph about the conversation where he thanks me, yet again, for saving his ass. Except it didn't happen. Heard nothing today from him. Only from J, who told me what happened.

They say that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result. I did the same thing I did throughout our marriage, expecting that he would be grateful and appreciative and at least say thank you.

That, my few loyal readers, means I am insane.

And, We're Back

I realized after three weeks that this place was my release and my place to tell stories. I missed it, even though I have had little to say. Except I do. More to come later. Now, a story.

Dateline 2004 -- April, I think. This is a random story, but this is my corner of the internet, so whatthefuckever.

Angela is my brow waxer. She is amazing and written up everywhere in girly magazines. I got an appointment through a friend. I had had my brows waxed before (many times), but Angela? She does her job really well -- deride as you will for her chosen profession, but she is as good at her job as I am mine and that is just fucking cool.

So , I am having my brows (and face) waxed by Angela when I decide now is the time to make a comment on the trend of women to "take it all off." I found it bothersome and gross and whatnot. Women wanting to look like preteen girls. Gross. How awful. I had an opinion and I wasn't afraid to share it with Angela, who is also reknown (didn't know) for her quasi-Brazillians.

Angela is a different breed of the human species. She listened to my rant about men wanting pre-teen girls, etc. Then she said "K, there is another viewpoint you might consider." I, not being wont to listen to alternate viewpoints, was skeptical. She said "I think women grooming their (nether regions, she is more clinical), is a positive sign. Women are more comfortable expecting, receiving, and enjoying oral sex, whereas decades prior, they were considered whores for doing it in return."

It made me think, albeit from the odd place where you are half naked, asked a friend to get rid of unwanted hairs from your nether regions. It was an interesting point, to say the least. I know Angela -- she is a client - and I wasn't ready to go full monty on her. But I did do my first bikini wax, which was painful and interesting.

After she waxed me, she recommended that I visit May, her equivalent in the nether regions market, at a totally different salon. I met May and BOOM, we clicked. She explained the whole process in detail, with no shame and, as I was about to go to Cabo for Christmans (first x-mas sans B), I agreed. She shared Angela's philosophy about waxing "down there" and I had my first true Brazlillian wax. It was at once liberating and indignified. Something about hearing her order of "spread your butt cheeks, yes!" threw me off.

And yet. That was over a year ago and I still do it. I don't really know why, although I do agree about the power issue. Mostly it is a question of feeling like I control something, although I don't know what. I don't think that women should look like this -- public hair serves its purpose -- but I'll just let it ride.

Welcome back, loyal readers. I'm sure this was worth the wait.

Searching for Sean Maguire

I am in the process of interviewing shrinks.

I am sort of ambivalent about psychiatrists/psychologists/therapists/counselors. On one hand, I recognize that they, like I, provide a valuable service for people in crisis. On the other, I think a lot of it is self-indulgent emo bullshit, especially when I think of the real problems (hunger, disease, war, etc.) facing other people. When this is your biggest problem -- mourning a lost love and relationship -- I think you are getting off easy.

I had written a funny scene in the screenplay where the protagonist "auditions" shrinks. Today's experience provided a helpful addition. He was a very serious man who was interviewing me as much as I did him. I don't think I passed. He explained that his speciality was "deep psychotherapy" and he thought I was looking for something else -- a place to vent, mourn, and heal from the divorce. I threw my head back and laughed and said that was like holding a red flag up to a bull - challenging me. He managed to get even more serious and said that he was concerned that our different personalities would get in the way of the process. He said he was committed to working with people who wanted a deeper level of meaning in their life and who were dedicated to living that kind of life.

I confess that I burst out laughing. I do not mean to mock the process in any manner, shape or form, and I don't doubt this man's commitment to his profession. I have every confidence that he is a very valuable resource for many a troubled folk, as he came highly recommended. I told him that I didn't know anyone that didn't want a deeper purpose and meaning in their life, but in all things, balance.

We had a couple of really meaningful exchanges. One was when he asked me what I wanted. I rambled through the usual "learn from my mistakes, become a better human being, etc." but it all seemed trite as it came out of my mouth. I then said something that shocked the shit out of me. I said "I want and need more fulfilling relationships in my life." What tumbled out of my mouth after that shocked and horrified and rattled me. I realized something pretty profound, and that alone was worth the (free) hour.

I started to wonder if I could "interview" shrinks all over the city (for free) and gain a higher consciousness. I confess that that thought had me laughing (and writing tonight) for a while.

I got teary only at a few points, mostly when he said "I don't know you, but based upon our time today, I would say that you keep most people at a distance and don't trust anyone." I hated that assessment. He then said "I can also see that you have excellent masking and coping skills and are not comfortable being vulnerable." Bitch, I got teary at that, too, so shove that diagnosis up your ass. Finally, and here is when I thought I was going to lose it, he hit the proverbial nail. He said "look, K, yeah, you're going through a lot of shit, but you aren't desperate. You probably have desperate moments, but you aren't a desperate patient. You want therapy because that is what everyone tells you to do in a divorce, but you aren't desperate for it."

Somehow, that vote of confidence brought me to tears. By Mr. Intense Therapist. He isn't the one for me -- I'm sure I need "deep psychotherapy" but the time isn't right. I just need better coping skills and probably a sounding board. I have friends for that and need to use them. That said, I do need a professional to help me organize all of this crap and keep me grounded. I am going to keep interviewing them and getting as much free treatment as possible.

Watch this space for more tales from the therapy-crypt.

Lemons Into Lemonade

What started as kind of a joke has sort of morphed into a full on project. When I recounted the "will by the light of the convenience store" story here, I was thinking what a great scene in a movie it would have been. Truth is, I think I see a lot of things like that, which is probably a coping mechanism or other such psychobabble. In any event, I told the story to my online friend and he had the same reaction (as well as the divorce story of using B's check for the filing).

Yes. I know. Stop with the chats with the married guy. I know. But hold on.

Online friend is a very talented writer, which is how I first noticed him. He has a very respectable, well-paying day job at which he is quite good, but he is a frustrated writer. He writes short stories for his kid (amazing, I might add, and I intend to sign him as a client in the very near term) and has tackled a few screenplays, but not finished any of them. He doesn't have much time for them and has a demanding work and personal schedule that precludes any pure attention to such pursuits. This is one of the principal topics of conversation between us, as I have encouraged him to get his own supersecret blog and just start writing (he does not know where this one is). He has also had something of a writer's block for a year or so, frustrated with the tension of wanting to do it full-time, but not being able to put his life on hold while he did it.

Anyway, we got to talking about a potential story to be written, brainstorming about various arcs and whatnot. It led to my purchasing a screenwriting software program (he already has it, but I do not use pirated copies) and we are now something of writing partners! Shut up, it is the next best thing. Channeling what is probably unhealthy or otherwise self-defeating thoughts into something therapeutic and creative.

I have had a blast. I started out writing individual scenes, but that was utterly frustrating. No common thread, no sense where the bus was headed, so to speak. I know nothing about structured creative writing and he does and he started an outline, which was about half a page. Last night, I took it to nearly ten pages. Holy fucking shit, that was fun. Imagining a story from start to finish and putting the marker points in to guide the tale. Unreal. It is very much in raw form now, but it is a productive hobby that probably has multiple benefits. He has seen it like this and is contributing rewrites and offering suggestions. By the way, there is nothing quite as revealing as showing someone your private thoughts. My three readers would probably agree, as this corner of the internets is not for public consumption and is a portal into my thoughts. I am here to tell you that it is slighly more revealing when the work is quasi-fiction.

While the crush remains intact, I do believe that I am taking what could be a bad thing and turning it into something positive and productive. If I get up the nerve, and when it is better, I will probably post a link to it and get your feedback. I haven't done this kind of writing since college and can't believe how much I enjoy it. It is better than any therapy I can think of, it challenges me creatively and intellectually, and, perhaps most importantly, it has given me something better to do than feel sorry for myself or angry.

I less than three you, 2007 and you're only three days old.

Hello, Lover

I've been waiting for you, 2007. The anticipation and the longing, I know it was worth it.

I don't have unrealistic expectations for you. In fact, I expect very little from you. I hope you are downright boring and stable and safe. You are my transitional year - my rebound fling. I know the best is yet to come and 2008 may well be my soul mate. Nevertheless, I am glad you are here and I promise I will give you my undivided attention.

I will not reminisce or look back on the year whose name we will not speak. I can't very well move forward if I am always looking back over my shoulder. Truth be told, there isn't much to look at back there anyway. Everything worth seeing and discovering is on the road ahead.

So here's to 2007. I look forward to our time together.

Eye of the Storm

I think I survived it.

Today, I got the phone call I expected for at least a year. The one where B threatened me and rattled all of his chains. The one where I was scared to death.

I don't reach out. I did. I IM'ed the right folks and K and J were here within half an hour*. We got all of his shit out (I'm really downplaying my state of fear) and I am still here. I got a text from him (after I very nicely explained that I wanted to give him the key and hadn't taken anything from him) which was incredibly rude, menacing and basically gave me all of his shit. Including that which I had packed up earlier in the day. Outstanding. I'll spend my next wifetime trying to figure out how someone could be so cruel to someone who hadn't even tried to hurt them. People are nuts.

I am really le tired and I think my poor body and soul needs a nap. I think I am okay and feel remarkably positive. I hate that it came to this and hope this whole thing will pass, but at the end of the day, I maintained a sense of class and integrity, even if it is utterly disregarded. I am long past the loss of the man I was once married to, as he no longer exists even in my imagination. I just pray that his ghost leaves me the fuck alone.

* A special shout out to K and J. Truer friends, I'll probably never know. You cannot know how comforting it is to know that within one phone call, you are both out of work and here, ready to help. I am the luckiest girl on the planet to have you both as really good friends.

State of Affairs

I want to retell this story for posterity, as I glossed over it earlier. And if this is ever made into a book or movie, you can know you read it here first.

Christmas Eve, I awoke early. I hadn't slept much the night before, owing to the sister phone call and other such shit. I really didn't drink that much the night before, as I was already in an alternate reality. Everything was illuminated. Great book, by the way. However, when the sister called, I poured a glass of wine and we had our moment.

I slept into about 9, took the dog for an hour walk and came home. Had another conversation with J in which a few random details were shared. I shared more than I should have, but oh well. Someone needed to know he sucked as a lover. Might as well be the chick I thought had to deal with that. I found myself pouring a martini as we spoke. It was only noon.

By the time we got off the phone, I was a little buzzed. This was 2pm. I took a shower and decided I didn't want any alcohol in my body anymore. I had probably had enough wine over the weekend to supply a small bistro. I was just done.

It was pouring, but I knew I shouldn't drive because of the liquid lunch. I walked the dog into the day care (about fifteen minute walk) and walked the other fifteen to Nordy's. There, I bought myself a kickass Marc Jacobs purse, on B's dime. I sort of regret that now -- not buying it, but on his dime. I have been the classy one in all this. On the other hand, I handled the bills for all of our marriage. He is technically incompetent and probably won't figure it out -- and all of his mail comes here, as the son of a bitch hasn't even changed his address in the past two years. If he ever does figure it out, I have already taken the money out and put it into an envelope. The safe bet is he never figures it out. And I have a little "fuck you."

But the real story is my freak out en route to my folks. I staved the drive off as much as possible, as it was miserable out and I had had alcohol for lunch. I finally left around 8pm and it was a downpour. And I really, really hate driving in the rain at night -- my eyes are just shit and I kept imagining I was going to hit a patch of water and spin out. And my car and me and my dog would be totaled and dead. And B would get my things -- the condo, my savings, the art, my personal stuff.

I full on wigged. I was already holding my breath in the dark spots and already very light-headed. My mind was racing and going faster than the car. All I could think about was him stepping back into our life without consequence. And here's the really bizarre thing -- I was re-obsessing about a bar exam question I missed. On the bar exam, there was a question related to wills and witness signatures. I got it wrong -- I realized that minutes after the bar exam - and I spent two months completely convinced that I wouldn't pass the bar for those 2 points I missed.

Wiggage is weird -- I ended up pulling over at an exit with the only lit gas station I saw. I dug out that legal pad and wrote out a will -- in remarkably detailed fashioned and referencing cases and statutes that no one should know off the top of their head. Thing is, the rule requires that two people witness the testator's (person making the will) signature.

Yes, I went into the gas station, where exactly two people were present. I begged them to sign (that they had witnessed me signing a will) and required their names, ages and addresses. This is more than a little weird to do to anyone, let alone on Christmas Eve, let alone to strangers in a convenience store. Suffice to say, I persuaded them both to sign (carding the self-professed 18 year old who was, in fact, 18) and the convenience store clerk (who reminded me that the whole exchange was being recorded). I bought them both a half rack for their efforts (a misdemeanor caught on tape where the 18 year old was concerned), bought a box of envelopes and a stamp, mailed the will to myself, and then made my way to my parents. I was still white knuckling it, but with about 40% less hyperventilation.

Welcome to my world. This is the face of progress. It just takes a few steps back now and then.

There is more, but I need to walk the dog.

Merry Christmas!

I am wide awake at 3:30 am, but it is a good thing. I need to go to bed, but I wanted to get some thoughts down.

Today was a beginning of sorts. I was wide awake from last night and didn't get any quality REM, and the wine from last night was killing my head. I had a long phone call with J in which I gave her my forgiveness. She deserved it. She has been in a pretty shitty situation, given that her boss -- my soon-to-be-ex -- is dumping an amazing amount of shit on her. She made a choice to keep his secrets, although to her credit, she didn't keep in contact with me during the worst of it. I have a great deal of empathy for all of that, as I know that she, too, fell in love with a person who no longer exists. She really did believe in B but that is gone.

I found out some interesting details. By way of background, two years ago, I asked B to move out when I found out that he had had an affair. I didn't ask for details, other than "is it over?" and "is there anything else about this that will affect me?" I think I knew we were over, but hope, it does die slowly. I never even asked her name, although I came to learn she shared the name of my beloved aunt. Somehow, I filed that away in my head and didn't really think more of it. Denial, she is a powerful river. B told me some story about her being "psycho" (I rolled my eyes and showed him the door) and I really didn't think much more of it.

Apparently, he has been involved with this person consistently throughout our separation, despite claiming he had had to hire an attorney becasue she went nuts. Here's where it gets better -- B has been cheating on his new girlfriend with this person. Awesome. As much despair as I have felt as of late, I haven't fucked my life up the way he has utterly fucked his up his life. I don't wish him any ill will and only want him completely out of my life, but I realied that I will, in fact, survive and win this divorce. Holy shit. All those times he told me that I create strife in my head -- he can do it in real time. Knock yourself out buddy. You are absolutely out of my life.

I drove up to my parents' house tonight (they live overseas, but came home for Christmas). It was a white knuckle drive - I have shitty night vision and it was pouring out. I actually started hyperventilating and feeling light-headed because I was holding my breath during the rough spots. What really concerned me was that if I spun out and had a fatal car crash, B would be entitled to everything. I had a legal pad in the back of my car and ended up pulling over and writing a will. I know how insane that sounds, but yeah - welcome to my world. I am going to write a more comprehensive one next week, but that didn't make the 2 hour drive any easier.

B bought me a Marc Jacobs purse for Christmas. He doesn't know yet, but it is lovely. I thought about buying one for every one I know, but showed restraint.

At the end of the day, I came here and was wrapped in loving arms and support and realized that I missed so much of my life over the past ten years. I didn't even want a drink tonight, as I had so much around me that is real and loving and cool. My brothers? Seriously - no one should be this lucky. My sister is equally kickass (she hasn't made it here yet and I am starting to wonder) and my parents are so supportive. How I managed to ignore these magnificent human beings for years, I'll spend a lifetime regretting.

Merry Christmas to my friends who read this emo blog. I am truly humbled that I have made such good friends who care about me. Those of you that read this -- you need to know this -- I treasure you. More than you could ever know.

Sister Shoutout

Tonight, I rediscovered my belief in God. Allah. Buddah. Whatever. At 2:30am, no less.

I already wrote this post, but my goddamn computer fucked itself in a fury.

I sunk into a crazy false bottom tonight. I was dangerously depressed. I scared myself. I'm not going to go into it in detail, but I realized B's mom was faking it a few days ago and knew B and girl were en route the next day. Everything I knew and trusted was seemingly yanked from beneath me. Why lie? Why bullshit? This after about 10 really cruel text messages from B, getting locked out of my house, etc. I felt useless, worthless and utterly alone. I was literally crushed by my grief. I was convinced my kidneys were giving up, but alas, it was just menstrual cramps. I wanted to die, except I didn't want B to get the condo. Always an attorney, I guess. I am going to redo my will tomorrow. If I get hit by a bus in the interim, please let it be known that I want all of my estate to go to my sister, KC.

Earlier in the day, I made myself get out of the house and I took the dog to the dog park. We were there for two hours - we hiked, ran, walked, etc. I was still overwhelmed with the blue and needed to reach out. I knew I was in over my head and my head was kicking my ass. I NEVER reach out and I knew I needed to. Unfortunately, everyone I reached out to was MIA at that particular moment. And I felt stupid and worthless for needing help. Yes, own worst enemy and all that. I felt so incredibly terrible. Suffocating.

I had called my sister earlier in the day (with whom I am routinely estranged), even though we are currently ON A BREAK and not speaking to each other. KC and I have an odd relationship, in that we are tighter than tight at times and distant ships at others. She is currently mad at me (she is wrong, but I get it and probably deserve her ire) but I needed her. I needed someone. Anyone, preferably, someone who likes me. I am not skilled in the art of reaching out, but I reached out. KC's VM said "the subscriber is unavailabe." I called a few friends, got voice mails and sunk really, really deep into despair.

Don't hate yourself if I called you and got VM. Not your fault......not yours. Seriously -- it isn't your fault. Bad timing and all.

I got home and sort of collapsed in the entirety of it all. B taking the girlfriend home to meet mom. Mom lying and deflecting because she didn't know what to do. Me feeling crazy alone and despondent, ashamed and unfamiliar with this side of depression. High jinx ensued, as I tried to meet a friend for drinks, but in my state of mind, I got locked out.

So here I was, at 2 in the morning, hoping for sleep, and my phone rings. I ignore my phone regularly, but the time of day got my attention.

It was my sister. She saved me. Sure, it was a drunk dial, but it was sincere. I think I sobbed at least three times while I explained that her phone call -- at that time -- was exactly what I needed. My sister saved me tonight -- I was scary depressed and sad and now I know she may be here tomorrow. Honest to God, I believe in karma, but this is different. Her phone call made me believe in a higher power. I have a great family and great friends and I am so lucky. I am LUCKY!

My sister rescued me from a place of such sadness and heartbreak. I have to believe that a higher power put these actions into motion. I have to believe that. I may actually sleep tonight because I feel loved. Thank fucking God.

Victory and False Bottoms, Part Deux

I was actually excited to get this down today, as it was a great day in many ways. And then, of course, the bottom fell out. I've landed on my feet, so I am going to write it down.

I filed for divorce yesterday. It will be final on March 26, 2007. Mark your calendars and buy a ticket to Vegas. It will be a blowout.

The story:

I woke up very early and was sort of buzzing about the house. To paraphrase a cheesy movie, once you realize what you want, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible. I ended up running a bunch of errands and getting into the office around noon. The plan was to do a little legal research, then hit the courthouse.

My research led me to a site that actually lets you file for divorce online. Holy shit, the internets rule. It seemed so easy -- you fill out the docs online, they file them in a different county (one that doesn't require a court appearance -- and they take care of everything). Thing is, I already had signed papers and wasn't going to wait for B to sign fresh docs. Although it seemed to be so easy, I decided to just forge ahead and go to the courthouse. I then downloaded some information that strongly cautioned against filing in a different county, so everything felt right. I made five copies of the petition and headed out.

Random: when folks in my office leave for any amount of time, we are encouraged to fill out certain information on this little pad of paper at the front desk. Initials, time out, time expected back, destination, etc. I filled it out and put, as the destination: "the future."

I skipped out of the office and was genuinely feeling excitement. The courthouse is just blocks from my office, so I was there in minutes. I got up to the window and said, in my most courteous voice, "I would like a dissolution please." The gal laughed and I showed her my docs. As it turned out, I needed to fill out a couple of additional forms, so I handed her my credit card and started filling them out. The gal scrunched up her face and informed me that they didn't take cards, just checks and cash, and that there was an ATM on the first floor.

I don't do checks -- at all -- but have a box at my desk. And the filing fee was $250 -- ATMs only give you $200 at a time. I felt the wind going out of my sails, as I needed to walk back to the office and grab my checkbook (or walk the six blocks to my bank for cash). It was sort of deflating, but I was resigned and left the courthouse.

I was probably two feet outside the door when I remembered something. I had a single check in my wallet -- a blank check on B's personal account. I stopped dead in my tracks and thought about it for a few seconds. Would I ever need that check? Should I keep it and just go get my own? No - it seemed too perfect. I turned right around, headed back up to the clerk's office and gave B the pleasure of paying for our divorce. Awesome -- truly awesome. The clerk told me I could schedule a hearing anytime after 90 days to finalize it and I asked her if I could schedule said hearing right then. She seemed a little surprised and said "sure, if you're ready - just set it for 90 days out." I did, and March 26, 2007 is the magic date.

As I left the courthouse, I texted AB with the subject line "FILED" and almost floated back to the office. I felt giddy, relieved and hopeful. I haven't felt that good in so very long. I got back to the office and was wrapped in arms of support -- it truly took me by surprise. It never ceases to amaze me where you find sources of support and friendship*. When I drove home, I heard that song "I Can See Clearly Now The Rain Is Gone" was on the radio and I blasted it and laughed and cried. It was all good.

I picked up the dog, went for a walk and was ready to celebrate with friends. I got a celebratory phone call from J, who knew I was filing today. Then the bottom fell out. She informed me that B was en route to his mother's house with the girlfriend in tow.

It was devastating. I just spoke with his mother two days ago and she seemed truly wrecked when I mentioned the girlfriend. Either it was an act, or B hadn't told her who was coming home to dinner. In any event, he is clearly into this chick and very much past our relationship. That was quite a blow. It took the wind out of me. Hell, it took everything out of me. I can't even write about it without sobbing. I don't really know why, as I am truly all about moving on. I just can't believe he would do something like that -- he doesn't even know I filed and is bringing another woman to his mother's house for Christmas? What kind of a person does that? Seriously, I know we're done and all that, and rationally, I shouldn't care, but holy hell? Who fucking does that? Especially when you're calling your wife almost daily for advice, guidance, assistance and all that?

I had myself a good, old-fashioned sobfest (I really need to answer my phone during these, as I know good friends were really worried about me) and allowed myself to feel the pain. It was so shocking to go from this giddy euphoria to absolute darkness, but I think I have emerged. I know I will have reverberations over the next few days, but I'll be okay. I'll make it. It won't be easy, but I'll make it. It is hard to know your partner of so many years is that cruel and unfeeling, but that is what it is. Even typing that, I sob. Pain sucks, but what are you going to do? I can't change the situation, I can only react to it in a constructive manner. I'm trying.

Tomorrow, I am renting a storage unit and moving out the last of B's things. I will bill it to his credit card and send him the key. That is a constructive act. I will pack my shit and go up to my parents' house and maintain the best I can. I will remember that I can weather anything and that I have great friends and family who want to help in any way they can and I will take them up on that. I will remember that no one has died from a broken heart (aside from folks like my biodad, whose hearts gave out too soon) and that one day, I will look back on this and congratulate myself on having moved on. I will survive this. This too, shall pass.

I will be okay. I know that I will. I have a broken heart, but my character and integrity is intact. I will make it. Bring on the next false bottom.

* I received the present of a lifetime today. I don't think I can give it justice here, but some person I have never actually met sent me an inukshuk, with the explanation that it is to be used as a beacon for where you are going and a reminder of your friends. When I opened it, I was all WTF mate, but once I googled it and read the note, I was moved beyond belief. Say what you want about the internets, but I have made some amazing friendships from them.

False Bottoms

Tomorrow (Friday) is the day. No excuses jeans. I had planned on filing next Friday for practical and tactical reasons, but I really feel the time is now. Any reason for delay can be cured.

Today wasn't a good day by any stretch of the imagination. By now, I have concluded that 2006 is, in fact, the year of the cunt (although the Chinese may have been onto something with the whole Year of the Dog thing, given the Darby acquisition), and I have finally yielded to its prowess. 2006 won. I lost. I concede the race and am just going to hide out in a bunker and wait for the shadow of 2007. I very rarely toss in the white flag, but now, in the very final days of the year, I realize it got the best of me. I put up a good fight and battled most of the year, but, like Al Gore, I have concluded that sometimes? The deck is just too stacked against you and your mental health and dignity requires surrender.

Yesterday, I learned that B does, in fact, have a girlfriend and learned her identity. Now, him having a girlfriend wasn't exactly earth-shattering news, as I knew that instinctively. We've been separated for two years, haven't slept together once in all that. People do crave intimacy and sex, quite frankly. I, myself, had a good mercy/sympathy shag last Christmas that was probably better than my entire sex life with B, so I didn't have unreasonable expectations. If you can't have sex with other people during a separation ("WE WERE ON A BREAK!"), what is the point of separating?

What killed me was learning who it was (no one I really know or care about) and that he is stepping out with her publicly. She is probably six or seven years younger than me (and I am six years younger than B) and she is a wallflower -- I guess she's cute, but she's not the kind of person you remember after meeting her. Or I was self involved the two or three times I met her. My word for her is "boring." Uninteresting. That was hard to swallow. B refused to sign the divorce papers for months, then I couldn't file because of HIS work concerns, then he stalled and pleaded with me not to file, all while he is basically begging for my personal and professional guidance in certain important (to him financially, to me philosophically) matters. I put aside all of my sadness and rage to do something constructive, even though I knew it wasn't good for me emotionally. To find out he has the audacity to date in public -- to humiliate me at the expense of his own ego and needs -- all the while calling me several times a day for advice, guidance, etc. That was the harshest blow. This is not the man I married. I think that man died a long time ago and I am just now coming to terms with that loss.

It wasn't J, as J was the one who told me who it was. J did cover for B several times over the past few months, but now, B has included her in his dumping grounds of barked orders and has treated her as his equivalent "work spouse." I think the guilt finally got the best of her, or she realized she hitched her wagon to the wrong horse. In any event, J and I probably can't ever be friends again, as the whole thing is just too toxic for words. More collateral damage, I guess.

Incidentally, my sister has this phrase called "false bottoms" -- just when you think you've hit rock bottom, the floor gives out and you realize you can sink farther.

If that wasn't bad enough, I called my MIL last night to get her address (I was lazy and didn't feel like digging for it). At the end of the conversation, I told her that even though B and I weren't going to make it, I loved her and thanked her for always being a great friend and source of support. She responded by saying "You two are going to make it -- of course you'll work it out. No two people belong together like you and you have such love for each other." She repeated it over and over. I sort of blurted out "well, Mom, when your husband has a girlfriend, you have to harsh up to the reality that is probably isn't going to work out."

Awkward silence ensued. I never, ever wanted to say anything bad about B to anyone who knew us both. I'm sure I ruined her Christmas by telling her that her son wasn't the man either of us thought we knew. I wish I hadn't said anything.

Oh, but it gets better (false bottoms and all). This morning, I called AD, who was originally introduced into my life as B's new best friend. AD used to get on my last nerve and still can, but over the years, we have developed a very special bond. B and I separated while AD and his long-term girlfriend were having issues. We talked each other down off of ledges and forged a strange but real friendship. When I told AD about B's girlfriend (including identity), his response was "well, shit, K - I had heard something about that through the grapevine and had hoped it wasn't true. B is going to wake up one day and realize he thoroughly fucked his life up."

I lost it -- not at his words, but at the realization that there was a grapevine that was likely pitying me or otherwise titilating that B had a new girl while his long-suffering wife was still playing the do-gooder role. That B had such little respect for me and my contributions to this marriage that he would humiliate me while simultaneously extracting my counsel and advice. That this man could, in any conscience, take advantage of my respect for our relationship and solicit my support and advice for his business matters, all the while showing absolutely no respect for me while he pursued whatever hole he had to fill during all of this.

When I got into the office this morning, I promptly lost my shit in my boss' office and had an all-out sobfest. That was a new false bottom.

In any event, in the depths of this sorrow, I have some clarity. This needs to be behind me, and now. I am filing tomorrow. I need to sever the umbilical cord of our relationship. It need not be hostile and I will try really hard not to be hostile -- just definite.

And I need to stop with my online married friend. On one hand, I know what purposes we are fulfilling -- aside from the obvious friendship chemistry. He makes me crush on him, and it feels good to me to crush on someone that specifcially --- to say nothing of the fact that he is utterly crush-worthy. I make him feel alive and interesting and attractive, as married men are clearly wont to need that affirmation. He is a good - no -- a great man and I am better for having gotten to know him, but I need to redirect my efforts to persons who are available to me. Having really felt the pain of a breaking heart, that can only come from realizing your husband is pretty much dead and his reincarnation is an asshole, I don't think I can weather another broken heart. He is just a good man, who should be appreciated as such, and not anything more.

And I really need to rediscover something resembling a cheery outlook.