Winter Break

I survived finals. December has been a very long month, and my last final wasn't finished until about 7 PM on the 20th.

We successfully got and decorated a tree (a bit crooked) and I had at least two gifts for each child, plus a couple of stocking stuffers. They were slightly disappointed to not have piles of loot, but hid it reasonably well. Each child got one gift they really wanted (Minecraft foam sword, anyone?). Anyway, it was a nice, peaceful day.

I'm enjoying not having to study, cram everything in, rush rush rush, and most of all having the chance to take it easy in the morning rather than get everyone off to school.

Financial agreement one step closer to being done. Not fair to me, but not sure I want to pay a lawyer to make it fair and create ill will. Mr. Gone still doesn't understand why I went back to school instead of just returning to work (woo hoo, 60 hour work week, tiny benefits, every weekend, yeah, right) but not his business. He's doing the song and dance about his company folding, too. As long as he keeps paying me something.

Breathing deep, trying to stay focused on me and the kids. Chasing after #2 to get homework done; major projects that he's lost the directions for and is stalling on. SO tired of having to be bad cop.

Sometimes single parenting just sucks. Wish I could spend the weekends seeing movies with the kids, playing video games, sitting on my behind. But I have to be the grownup here.

Privileged

A comment in a previous post got me thinking about giving and receiving. I've always tried to be on the giving, not the receiving end. Hard to know when to tough it out and when to ask for help. I am always grateful that the cushions and safety nets are there for me; it does help me to sleep at night. Still trying to be a giver, though. Hmm. Still worth some thought.

Right now I am in a 2 am state of bliss and privilege. Spent the evening playing music with friends, and being paid for it. One of the dancers commented that I sounded very confident. I played tonight like I had absolutely nothing to lose. Picked tunes that suited me. Didn't worry about whether all the notes would come out right. Didn't worry about the formerly resident critic that would compare me, pick apart, damn with faint praise. Or my inner critic -- do I sound as good as X? Am I worthy? I just played. Watched the dancers, and let the notes come out.

Now I'm unwinding with a glass of flat Prosecco (a birthday gift that took me five months to open and three weeks to drink) laced with bitter Aperol, and delaying falling asleep in my lonely bed.  I was part of something really lovely tonight, and it felt good. People danced to my music. I made beautiful harmonies with friends.

Moments like this are to live for, and to sustain us through the dark times.

Get busy living, or get busy dying. I feel like I lived tonight. I was free.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gaVIwwNhocg

Pity Party

Feeling wiped.
Drained.
Kaput.

Not enough money, not enough time.
Too much to do, too many demands.

What can I let go?
Parenting, nope
School, could ease back on my schedule next semester but need the degree ASAP
Work? Writing online now as my other work hours were cut wayyyyy back. But we need money for food, clothing, shelter. And winter is coming and we have oil heat.

Have the urge to sleep for months.
To walk away from it all.
I know it's temporary and we'll get through but on a rainy day like this a cup of tea, novel and a nap have a lot more appeal than anything else I can think of.

I plan to take a day off for Thanksgiving and just veg with the kids. Eat breakfast in our jammies. Do some messy craft projects. Play board games. Watch a family movie. Mr. Gone decided he really DIDN'T want the kids for Thanksgiving. I suspect there's a girlfriend he has plans with. But, ya know, if you're still legally married, it's adultery. If you mentally checked out years ago, maybe it's not mental adultery. That's irking me too.

Move on.
Move on.
Move on.

Take care of myself. Take care of my kids. Snuggle with my pets.

Oh, and do the work that must be done so other people can snuggle with their kids and pets.

Getting By in Grad School

GO ME!

I had to write a paper for one of my classes; 25 % of my grade.

The paper was sociologically oriented. Behavioral models. What this "hard science" geek thinks of as psychobabble to explain why people do what they do. Necessary, but irritating. Not my strong suit; I'm used to following recipes. Mix agar A; add bacteria B and antibiotic C. Either it will grow or not. There are biochemical reasons why.

This is a little softer, squishier, and unsatisfying because it's trying to use hard science labels for something not hard. I loved English Lit; it was all squishy. Music is  "hard," but when you add squish, it becomes good. But categorizing something squishy in hard science terms, no, not for me. This blend is just really uncomfortable.

SO, I got a 95 on the paper! The "hard" professor in this team-taught course graded it.

The house is a mess, keeping all the balls in the air is really challenging, but I'm doing it, one paper, one exam at a time.

The Good Year in Review

So what have I done this past year, that's good?

I have found out that I have a lot of true friends. I have people that will ask, "What can I do?" And then they will step up and do that thing. I LOVE my community. I also feel a small twinge of schadenfreude at the things other people are saying about Mr. Gone. I am trying to move beyond that to a better place, but still, it makes me feel loved, supported, and that I don't have some insane personal perspective, that what he did was WRONG.

I have started on my new career path. Balancing work/school/parenting is tricky, but I did the whole thing: GRE, essays, applications, financial aid. And I did it all myself. Not much help from anyone. I got into one of the most exclusive schools in the country! That's saying something. Of course, I'm going to the state school instead because exclusive = expensive.

I have cut my hair really short, let the coloring grow out, gotten new hip glasses. My hair is salt and pepper grey now, actually kind of cool looking. Ten years ago it was mousy brown. Now it's very dark with grey streaks. I look older, but I've always looked very young and am finally looking like a grownup.

I'm enjoying eating what I want to eat without catering to the whims of someone who was, looking back, really kind of picky. We can have mac n' cheese for dinner! The bizarre list of things he wouldn't eat included cheddar cheese, fresh tomatoes, cucumbers, salad, anything "vegetarian" or "healthy", egg things like quiche or souffle, melon of any sort . . . yeah, he was meat and potatoes all the way. Cooking has been simplified so much.

I'm watching my kids step up and grow up. Sometimes I've lost it with them, I'm short on patience. But they are really trying to do what they can to help, when I'm not here to start dinner, when things need to be cleaned up, laundry put away . . . and I'm also finding more fun times with them. Used to be I was the homework and chores parent and Mr. Gone was the fun parent. He now gets to be mostly disneyland dad due to the visitation schedule, but I'm trying to make sure that I get to do fun things with them too.

And I'm finding strength, ability, and resources to fix up things around here that need fixing up, and prioritize and get household repairs done without having to wait, go through a long conversation with another adult with different opinions about what's a priority (ya know, water in its many forms is always a priority!) and adjust expectations. I fixed two cracked windows (lots more to go), and am reglazing the whole darn house! I'm learning drywall! I can flux a pipe! I feel like Rosie the Riveter, only my guy is not coming home from the war.

Things are better than I thought they would be. I still wish for a time machine to go one, two, three years back and fix the cracks in the marriage. But honestly, they were not cracks I could have fixed; they were mostly defects in Mr. Gone's character and personality. I'm still not OK. But I'm going to be.

One Year Ago This Weekend

One year ago I returned from a girl's weekend getaway, several hours earlier than expected.

Mr. Gone said, "Oh, you're back early" without looking at me and went back to his computer game while the kids played video games.

He ignored me the rest of the afternoon.

After the kids were in bed I pressed him to tell me what was wrong. He didn't want to, but finally said, "I like and respect you but I haven't been in love with you for a long time." My life fell apart.

Looking back, I think there was someone else. Several someone elses. There was one affair I suspected around the time #2 was born. Why else would a married man with two small kids go and spend precious weekend time with another woman? And I think he had a fling during his high school reunion. The weirdness and wrong feeling really started then. I think it was guilt.

How much responsibility do I have?

I could have pushed for counseling sooner.

I went through my own perimenopausal crisis, and a couple of SAHM years that sucked. Multiple small kids, grinding monotony, and continuous uncertainty about whether daddy was coming home that night or being shipped off on a two week overseas business trip. I was not happy. But I had come through that to the other side. Made peace with my partner's faults. He was never going to see the dirty dishes in the sink, or underwear and kleenex on the floor. But that was OK, because I loved him for his good and bad parts together.

I let him get away with putting me and the family very last behind his job. I resented his work. The late nights, the missed holidays, the phone calls during dinner where he would turn from daddy to a-hole in front of my eyes. The work paid for the dinner, and the roof over our heads. A choice I made, and that I let him make.

I dismissed his ideas. Rent out the house and live overseas for a year? No. The packing and prep would all fall to me, and I don't really want to live in the middle east.
Buy an investment property and become landlords? No. We SUCK at maintenance. We had no spare time. At least, HE had no spare time and it would have fallen to me, like so many other projects.
Move closer to his office? I found a couple of houses. He didn't like them. I told him to look. He found houses we couldn't afford. No, really, a mortgage that's 50 % of your gross income is a bad move. Really. Really. And then he told me I didn't understand money and real estate was a smart investment.

Mostly, I let him get away with being absent. Emotionally. Physically. When I tried to bring him back, I always backed off so he wouldn't accuse me of being clingy. I worked on myself but didn't urge him enough to work on himself.

But in the end, can we change other people? No. Only ourselves.

So that's how I got to where I was a year ago. Self justifying, maybe. The universal reaction, though, has been, "He's going through a midlife crisis." From my friends. Our mutual friends. Acquaintances. Neighbors.

Next time, the past year in review.

Grad School AAAAAHHHHHH!

First full week of classes is now under my belt. Starting to figure out where things are, who people are, getting in the groove. Also beginning to wonder what I've gotten myself into.

It's probably the most diverse group of people I've ever spent time with; mixed race, mixed background and experience from the fresh out of college student from Ghana to the pulmonologist who's getting another degree. Very rich environment. I'm having actual conversations with an active reserve military guy who is bright and reasonable, and breaking through a lot of my anti-military prejudices. Much less feeling of competitition than my previous grad school experience as we all want to "save the world" and all in very different fields. So this is all wonderful, empowering, cool, amazing stuff.

The kids survived my first day of long classes, got themselves home, most of homework done, and all ok.

My hours have been way cut back at work, and I'm missing the money there but enjoying the time. The orchestra conductor may try to send some strings students my way, which would be great-working from home, more flexible hours.

Bad news: the schedule that didn't look so bad on paper -- one class Tues, one Wed, three Thurs -- is going to be a bigger mouthful than I thought. Lots of homework, lots of very very dense reading.

Uh-oh.

But I can do this, I will do this, I want to do it. One step at a time. Women's health. Health disparities. Major issues that need addressing. I'm smart. I will beat my head against a wall in this field, but I can advocate for change, those things that NEED to be changed. Maybe someday someone will get the mammogram they need, will use the contraception or tell her boyfriend "no," or breastfeed a baby who then won't get allergies, or will leave the abusive partner and have a social safety net, because of some work that I did.

My life sucks a bit. But I'm SO lucky. Clean water, a palace to live in, enough to eat, able to make a living with my brain instead of my body, and having control over that body and brain.

Movie night at school last night was "The Princess Bride." Wesley says, "Life is pain. Anyone who says different is selling something." Well, maybe I can reduce someone's pain. Make life a little more fair for someone. Just have to balance that with my family.

Time for house cleaning.