At first he seemed like he didn’t understand. He claimed to love me. He claimed that we could work it out if only we tried. Counseling, he suggested, would fix it all. We’d be a family if only I’d meet him halfway. He sacrificed so much for me! He wasn’t going to throw 8 years away like that. If I’d just spend time with him, at his club, and stop hanging around with my best friend everything would go back to the way it was.

Halfway. The way it was. Did he hear me? Did he look at my face and see that there is no more trying left in me?

I changed the core of my being trying to make this marriage work. I became a whole new person. I rejected everything and everyone from my past life. I laid down and let him kick my confidence until there was nothing left but bravado and show– but only for my Internet peeps. No one else was allowed to get close enough to me for even that. I allowed him to decide who I was, what I wanted, what direction I was going. And I was miserable. How could he not see that?

I talked to him for three hours. Talked and explained and pleaded. I needed him to see that this is over. I needed him to know why. There was no anger or tears. Just frustration as he continued to tell me how I could change to make this marriage better. He doesn’t like the new me, he said. I told him this isn’t the new me, this is the old me– the one he met and did all in his power to eliminate. She’s a lot stronger than the Jen he’s used to. She’s not afraid of being alone anymore. She accepts that she’s worth more than what she gets from him. And this Jen isn’t going to feel the guilt and shame of just being herself and getting the fuck on with her life. I told him this in the most basic and rational way I could. I looked him straight in the eye and was completely honest about my feelings with him. I don’t know how many different ways I told him that I am done. There is no fixing this and I don’t want to even try anymore.

I’ve been spending a lot of time out at my friend’s house. We have a lot of fun together. It’s nice to be accepted without all the judging. We laugh a lot. We act silly (probably more than two women in their late thirties should) and have a really good time. When Lil’lady sees this she’s uncertain about how to behave. She’s 6 years old and has never seen her mother laugh so much. She’s never seen her mother cry from laughing and she doesn’t know what to think about it. She just stares at me and when I try to get her to laugh with me she frowns. My own child is so unfamiliar with her mother’s happiness that she cowers at the sight. In what universe is this even ok? I dance for no other reason that I feel like it and she watches as if she’s half afraid of what I might do next. That breaks my heart. It’s not fair that this little girl has no experience with a happy mother.

But it also makes me stronger. I need to show her how to laugh and dance and not feel shame for who she is. I want her to hear a bird sing and then twirl to the melody of it. I want her to laugh at the tickle of sunbeams on her face. I want her to know passion for life. I want her to rage and love and sing off-tune. I want her to recognize her strength and to embrace it. I don’t want for her what I’ve allowed him to make me.

Lil’ Miss is ecstatic about the changes I’ve under gone. Our relationship has improved 100 times over. She wants to spend time with me and talk to me. She wants to hear “Jen’s Life: The Soundtrack” again. She remembers how I embraced life before I thought I needed saving. She tells me that I’m strong and that I can do this. She reminds me that I’m worth loving just the way I am. “Mommy,” she says to me¹”I love you like this.” I didn’t even realize until recently that her and I share the same smile. I was fascinated by that and she thought my reaction was funny. She smiles a lot, but there were no pictures of her and I smiling together since she was little. That’s been remedied. I have a beautiful daughter and I’m damned proud that she’s got my smile.

So, what’s next?

Well, I caught a woman leaving my house on Tuesday night. It’s a really long and complicated story, but the end result was that I didn’t care. I talked to him about it on Wednesday afternoon and just told him that if he’s going to do that I’d like for him to change the sheets. I told him that he should move on and that I want him to find someone that can actually make him happy. He told me that I was free to see other people and that we should just not bring folks back to the house. And then I took off my wedding ring. We don’t have the money right now to file for divorce and move to separate quarters, so we’re living together for now. I don’t know for how long, but at least until I start making more money. We’re just going to continue to live separate lives and coexist until we can’t stand to be around each other anymore. At this point it’s an “open relationship”, but I don’t even feel like I’m in a relationship. I feel freer than that. And I don’t feel guilty about feeling that way.

I want to not be married anymore. I want this to already be over so that the really ugly stuff can be done. I’m anxious to officially be single again. I’m not anxious for the legal work that is involved in the divorce, though. I can tell you this, when I’m not married anymore I will not get married again. This is my final ride in this particular parade. I’m convinced that I’m meant to be an old spinster and I appreciate that. Fuck, I want that at this point. Marriage is for lovebirds and wolves. People like me need to be able to get up and move on without all the legal maneuvering. I thought for a long time that I could make this match work, but then I woke up. And now I just want it over. Finished. Done.

1. My 19 year-old baby.

Comments are closed. You’ve been warned.

I’ve found my music again. I didn’t know it was gone for a long time. I didn’t miss it. But when I found it again I became obsessed. I couldn’t get enough. I still can’t get enough. Right now I’ve got Black Lab’s “Gone” blaring from the music machine¹. It’s a beautiful song². I forgot that part of me.

I always had music. “Jen’s Life: The Soundtrack”, I called it. Lots of little mix tapes. And then CDs. I could always find just the right ones to go with whatever situation I was in at the time. Then I stopped doing that. Stopped listening to it and craving it. Until a couple of weeks ago when that part of my soul seemed to break free. I started searching for music. This time it’s “Gone”, “This Night” (Black Lab) and “Familiar Taste of Poison” (Halestorm) at the top of my soundtrack.

I tried. I really tried. I put my self in a box and buried her somewhere she couldn’t escape. I tried to be normal, do normal things, think normal thoughts. I made promises in the early part of January 2009 and, fuck me, I kept them. I took vows and I was holding up my end of the fucking bargain. I stopped socializing again, shut off the music and accepted that this was my life and I was making a valiant goddamned sacrifice for my children. I stifled myself because I thought I deserved it. That part of me was horrible, selfish and wild. She hurt people, including herself. She burned bridges and made enemies. She had to go. He didn’t love her anyway. Stuff her in the box and forget about her. We were better off that way.

I thought I needed a knight-in-shining-armor and he thought he could “fix” me. I was somewhere really dark and I needed saving. I thought it was the right thing to do. I tried so hard to let him shape me into what he wanted. I fought against it sometimes, but mostly I allowed him to mold me into someone so different that anyone who knew me and loved me couldn’t even recognize me. “Why him, Jen?” they asked. “Better than the alternative,” I’d say,”and I love him.” Didn’t like the tattoo, the clothes, the music, the writing, the friends…changed it all. Because I promised them I would. I’d try to open up to him, but he didn’t like that. Too much of her still left in me. So, I closed off my history to him. No sharing secrets with him. Shared them on the blog. Shared them with strangers because he didn’t really love me enough to want to know me.

I had an out when he cheated on me. Could’ve let her have him and been done with it. But it wasn’t right. “Think of the Lil’lady!” So, I did. Didn’t want to struggle with her like I did with Lil’ Miss. Wanted her to have a better life. A normal life. Brought out the box just long enough to make sure he came back. Needed her to be able to do what I did, afterall. I honestly thought, though, that it would be different. I would be more like he wanted me to be and he would… I believed that. I believed I had to make it work. Pushed her back in the box and locked her back up. It was the “right” thing to do. Even my counselor, Goddess bless her, wondered if I’d made the right choice. Of course I did, I told her, I’m good at this shit. Heh.

That box wasn’t secure though. That part of me would peek out every so often. I put the car in my own name. Kept my own bank account. Kept with my schooling. He’d try to convince me otherwise, of course. Didn’t need a separate account, he said. Don’t need the car in your name, he whined. I didn’t listen to that. Not after what he did to me. Some things I’d give in, but that part of me wouldn’t give up total independence. I kept trying to be what he wanted, though, and I failed miserably. It was pitiful, really. He pulled away again and it didn’t even take 3 months for things to start going back to the way they were.

We’ve only been intimate 3 times since he got back. And it stopped completely 15 months ago. Not that I didn’t try that too. But he pushed me away one too many times. Physically pushed me away. Didn’t want me to touch him. So I didn’t. And for a while I accepted that this was how it was supposed to be. I settled for that because I deserved it. God, I was so lonely.

It started when he took me to his “club” and I had a few beers. I got up to dance with an old (as in 65+ years old) lady. We were having fun and I was thoroughly enjoying the music. He got irritated and decided it was time to go. Then he told me I was “fucking embarrassing” and that my laugh “is goddamned irritating”. Nice.

Then on my birthday he said something that sparked that part of me that I had so willingly given up. “I’m not going to buy you anything because I don’t know what you like.”

What. The. Fuck.

Eight motherfucking years I gave to this person. This man who did not even bother to get to know me. This person for whom I’d sacrificed everything that I am. It was worse than forgetting my birthday. It was worse than him picking out the wrong color or the wrong size or the wrong brand. He was so nonchalant about it. As if it was nothing. That’s when it started. That’s when she started fighting me to get out. She started screaming and burning and begging to be let out. It wasn’t worth the sacrifice. Not anymore.

I didn’t know it right away. But I could feel it. Just a little bit crazy coming on. My thoughts kept going over our history and how I could fix it. I promised. Everything was forgotten then. I didn’t work. Didn’t talk to anyone. I walled myself off completely from the world. I knew this wasn’t right anymore, but I wanted so much to fix it. But it didn’t take long before he committed one last crime against me and who I am.

Lil’ Miss was in the ER. Her grandmother called me to tell me she was bleeding really bad and that she needed me. She’d been living in another town and I didn’t know she was sick. We don’t speak much anymore. My fault, of course, because he wanted it that way. So, I told him “She’s in the hospital and I’ve got to go”. His response was too much for me. “Why isn’t her boyfriend with her?”

I didn’t tell him who was or wasn’t with her. For all he knew her boyfriend was with her. No, he didn’t want me to go. Thought she wasn’t worth it. I told him “She wants her mother” and then I left. No more fighting. No more trying to convince him of anything– trying to salve his hurt feelings. I went to be with my child and I spent two days with her up there. I was so scared for her. And he didn’t even bother to call to see what was going on.

Eight fucking years.

Then I stopped sleeping and I started craving the music. I went 40 hours with no sleep and then only slept 3-4 hours a day. I was crawling out of my skin and couldn’t figure out why. I had so much energy and just felt like I was caged. I don’t think I’d ever realized what “high strung” really meant until these last couple of weeks. How is it even possible for someone’s nerves to be so raw? I couldn’t get away from him fast enough. That part of me that I thought I didn’t need anymore burst out of her box and took over. I gave up. No more. No fucking more.

That feeling is still there. I still can’t sleep, even though I know what I have to do now. I’ve got too much energy. Too much I feel like I’ve missed, I think. I feel like I’ve wasted so much time on this. I made the decision and it’s only a matter of time. And I can’t fucking wait. Gods, but I’m losing my mind with wanting to get out of here. But I’ve changed more than I realized. I stopped hiding and allowed her to come out. And she’s, pardon the conceit, beautiful and fun and full of life. She’s anxious to get on with it, but I know that I’ve got to wait a bit. I’m not ready yet. Soon, though.

People that have never met this part of me are a little shocked at my “transformation”. At work they say they’ve never seen me smile. They think I’m fun. They like to hear me sing. “What happened to you?” someone asked. I’ve been awakened, whatever that means. No more hiding. Here I am, in all my evil, fucked up glory.

Last weekend I went dancing for the first time in a long time. My friend and her husband took me. They know what’s going on and they know what’s going to happen. It’s been so long since I had so much fun. I even managed to get hit on, which was an unbelievably big ego booster. You don’t miss that stuff until the cute little convenience store clerk tells you that you look really nice and he hopes to see you out. I can’t even tell you when the last time was that he looked at me like that.

I feel like I should feel guilty for starting to move on before I’ve even done it. But I don’t. So I feel a little guilty about not feeling guilty. It’s very strange. But I’m anxious to start living again. In my way. Without the restraints I’ve put on myself. I hated that part of me that I hid away. Hated her so much. But it wasn’t really her that caused me so much grief. I was in a cycle and made decisions based on what I learned from my mother. I know that now. And I know I can do better now. I’m better equipped now. I’m not the least bit afraid of myself anymore.

(To Be Continued)

1. Not a stereo. He says we don’t need one of those.
2. Check out my blip.fm if you’ve not heard it

One:
If you’re having trouble getting the image caption to appear below the image in IE, make sure you’re not floating it in a separate selector. Oops. Yes, I did spend almost a whole day trying to figure out why it was lovely in FF but floating right in IE. Dur. There was a float I didn’t need in there. This is what happens when you make adjustments and forget to note which adjustments you just made and/or don’t take out the extra garbage. My bad.

Two:
Don’t expect some people to know what the hell you’re talking about when you’re discussing your messed up float. They will look at you like you’re completely insane when you say “My list was floated right but then I floated my img to the right too!!” This means nothing to some people– even when you think that someone should know². Sorry, Unnamed Person, I really thought you knew more about it. I didn’t mean to “try to impress with that damned jargon”. Really. I thought since you’d signed up for a Website Design elective you might think my error was as hilarious as I thought it was.

Three:
Ask for confirmation in emails or you may go a whole two weeks thinking you’d sent an important note only to find out the recipient was still waiting for that note. My bad again.

Four:
Messing up my coding is really good for my brain fog. No, really, it is. Working my brain to solve a puzzle like a messed up float³ is good for the gray matter. I can’t leave it alone until I’ve fixed the problem and that helps with the cognition. I can actually hold conversations again. Of course, I don’t always want to have a conversation (blame the pain pills, yo) but I can have one if I so choose. Awesome.

Five:
I really like “V”. I also like “Spongebob” and “Buffy the Vampire Slayer”, so there you go.

Six:
After this semester is over I’m going to publish a couple of my best papers from my English College Writing class. I don’t want to yet for fear my prof will think I’m plagiarizing myself, but I did some good work on those things this semester. Can we say “A”? Why, yes we can. Of course, I think my prof doesn’t really care all that much about the quality of the paper as long as we keep it on topic, but that’s not the point. The subject matter is very interesting. Of course, I’ll probably forget that I want to do that. You’ll have that from me.

Seven:
It’s time for bed and I’ve stopped having thoughts. Ha!

1. ARGGGGHHHH!!
2. A fellow classmate, for example
3. I’m still laughing about that. And anyone who has made a minor error in coding only to have that minor error drive them bonkers for hours will appreciate this.

I finally got a laptop. What? I bought a new desktop last year (and it still rocks socks) but I thought I needed a laptop. Obviously I also needed a router. So I got one that would allow me to sit in my yard and surf the toobs. Of course, because I’m going to be going out into the yard I had to get the warranty that covers drops and spills. And, well, I had to have that fancy wireless mouse. Wheeeee!!!!!!!! That was quite a chunk of change².

Speaking of work, Vince gave me some feedback on the site³ and I’ve decided to make some changes. And I did. It’s looks pretty good, actually. I’ve got some weird ideas, I think, but I like being able to play around with it. I added some funky buttons and a jQuery video slider so, um, yeah, it’s pretty cool. I wouldn’t necessarily call it the most bomb-diggity site ever, but it’s getting close.

In similar news, and keeping with the spirit of this blog, I decided to ask Millie what she was paying her designer for her site. Well, Millie assumed I was going to ask her to hire me or some such nonsense and tells me:

My site is more than one page.

No shit. But just in case I’m as idiotic as she must be, she tells me that a couple of more times. OMG!! I can’t do more than one page!! Bleh. Oh, and the best part? There’s apparently stuff on the site I wouldn’t understand. This is where I said:

I’m kinda good at that stuff. And I am in school for this very thing. Graduating in December as a matter of fact.

WTFever, heiffer.

So, she tells me she paid this woman $2000 for her site (Whis is MORE THAN ONE PAGE!!!) and pays her $250 a year for hosting. This is where I was kind of taken aback. Why did she need that kind of money for hosting? I told her that my hosting is just over $100 a year and you could justsee her deflate.

Mwahahaha!!! You got took. How’s it feel? Oh, yeah? Her husband does your computer work? The dude you paid $75 to defrag your hard drive? Hahaha!! Still a dummy I see. Pssst. I could’ve done that for you for free but who am I? Just the mother of your only grandchild and the wife of your only child.

Sorry, where was I? Oh… So, she’s starts again telling me why I’m not qualified to do her website (meh) when I tell her I’m just trying to learn pricing structures. I don’t want to work for her (meh). So she tells me this chick charges her $30-40 to change an image on the site and for other changing other types of information. Really? Well, of course I’m intrigued. Changing an image is was easy, right? What’s it take? About 35 seconds (if you’re not waiting for the image to upload)? This is sounding good to me. And I find it hilarious that she could be helping her daughter-in-law enlarge her portfolio for a fraction of that, but is insisting I’m too stupid to breathe.

So, I break out my laptop and show her friend the new site I just did. Her friend is impressed but Millie isn’t interested. I told you– HEIFFER. That’s ok. I go on to say that I’m going to undercut the competition and try to offer the same kinds of services for not quite so much. Her friend doesn’t realize that Millie is a heiffer and agrees with me that I had a good idea. We’re talking about my business goals but Millie will have none of it and declared the conversation boring. Ha! Who doesn’t hate being shown how they’ve been taken straight to the cleaners? Sucks to be her.

Then TheMan and I come home and I go to Millie’s site so I can get the link to her designer’s site. First, her site sucks donkey turds⁴. I looked at the source page and it was built with Microsoft FrontPage 2005 with all inline styles that are, get this, capitalized. Anyone who knows W3C standards knows that CSS is preferred and tags should be lowercase. Ahem. Anyway, with my browser, which is 1300+/- wide, her site floats to the left. The images are pixelated and there are typos.

Can I laugh again? Hahahaha!!!

So, I click on the link at the bottom of the page and get… a “This Domain for Sale”. No shit. Pffft.

$2000 for a site that is not standards compliant, was built in FrontPage and is just not attractive (seriously, no :hover affect? REALLY?) isn’t really something to laugh at. I applaud chick for getting money for that stuff. Here I am working hard to learn the code and to make it as compliant and semantic as I can and here I could’ve built that shit in Expression Web and been done with it. Another Pffft.

My friend told me not to take Millie’s insults personally, but I did. And so laughing at the result of that $2k makes me feel better. She didn’t even look at what I can do. Didn’t even give my skills a second thought. So, I’m going to build her a brand new site with beautiful graphics that will resize with different browsers. Then I’m going to show it to her. And then I’m going to tell her she can’t have it.

Because I really am that spiteful. ;P

TheMan’s dad says his VFW commander may need a site and is going to give him my name. He’s also going to let me build him a personal site so I can build my portfolio. That’s nice. I’m glad part of my inlaw family isn’t off the deep end. I told him he will be blessed with awesome Karma– but not until I actually get the work. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Oh, and I’m over my ill feelings toward Millie now. I feel better after a good rant.

1. Holy flare, bat person!!
2. Just under $1k) but thankfully George Soros/Rahm Emanuel finally sent out those refunds shill checks and I was able to swing it. I’m going to use the laptop primarily for work, though, so hopefully I’ll be able to write that off next year.

   At any rate, I’ve finally joined the 21st century with this particular acquisition. My next planned big work purchase is Adobe Creative Suite 4 for students– at a big $349. Oh yeah. That’s way cheap. I’m saving up for that mother. When I start school again in the fall I should be able to buy one of the school’s old systems and stick that bad boy on that. Then I’ll be able to get rid of that old one finally. I’m thinking of giving the old one to my little sister as she’s taking Graphic Design in her high school and can’t afford a PS on her own. Considering the fact that her school sucks I’m going to teach her how to use it too. Then I might hire her ((That’s me wishing for lots of work and tons of money.

3. Which I can’t link to from here, but that’s ok
4. I’m trying sooo hard not to cuss

I’m not easily brought to tears, but this debate has brought me there twice. The first time was when it was “decided” that this issue was dead because Scott Brown was elected. All the “smart” people were saying that it should be tabled and that the Democrats would have to try to take it up again later. I was heartbroken again. I’ve noted here on a few occasions why I wanted this bill to pass and when it really seemed that it was going nowhere I was lost.

Prior to Sunday I reserved emotions on this subject. I was not going to get my hopes up again. Then the final vote happened. I was sitting by myself in the living room– my Networking text book in front of me and my computer turned off– listening half-heartedly to C-Span. Then Nancy Pelosi pounded her gavel and declared the measure adopted.

Relief. Pride. A childish sense of victory.

I came into my office so I could log on to Twitter and poke at teabaggers– except my computer was turned off. So I didn’t do that. I just went back into the living room and sat down. Now what? What’s going to happen with this precious reconciliation bill that everyone just loves¹.

Yesterday I took a few minutes to watch the President sign the bill into law. Again I didn’t mark the time on my Twitter feed. Maybe I should have, but I was too busy watching. The speeches don’t move me at this point, but dayum, the action of making this bill finally a law was just awesome. Beautiful.

I can’t explain to anyone what it feels like to be on the winning side this time. I’m so used to being a loser when it comes to politics² and fully expected the Republicans to squash this thing like an ugly bug. But they failed and the teabagged failed and the cursed firebaggers failed. People like me, who will actually benefit from this bill and who see this as a foot in the door to nationalized medicine, won.

1. Which, I admit, I haven’t paid much attention to as yet.
2. Dennis, I may yet forgive you for your little “dance”. We’ll see.