I came home from work today and voila! My divorce order was waiting for me in my mailbox. I was so excited as I tore into the envelope that I almost mowed down a lady coming out of the elevator.
Ironically, I was with my friend Jason who is proposing to his girlfriend next week on their vacation. I went shopping with him last week for the ring. Tonight was the return trip to Spence to finalize the order.
And the court awarded me the cost of $497!! So now I have to go after that bastard for the money but it'll be worth it. :)
Yay! It's Done. Over. Finished. Baby.
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
08-FD-336102 - Part II
This was written at a coffee shop on the corner of Queen St. W. & John St.
It's done. Done. Over. Signed and sealed, just waiting to be delivered.
I'm usually very particular about what I choose to wear on days like today - life changing events. However, as I thought about it in the shower this morning, I decided that I really don't give a shit today. It's not like my outfit is going to bring me luck or change the outcome.
I wore my white Ginger Spice shirt with an off white skirt and black flip flops. I purposely didn't wear my mother's earrings. Instead I wore a pair of amethyst and diamond earrings I bought myself back in March, after my first failed attempt at finishing off the divorce. I also purposely wore an old grey sweater that I stole from my Dad about 12 years ago. I always wear it when I need comfort.
I contemplated wearing my wedding band. I had a vision that as the clerk turned away to file my case, I'd take off my ring and leave it on the counter. The clerk would turn again and see that I was gone, and in my place, my lonely ring. The music swells, the camera pulls back into a wide shot, and then fade to black.
In reality, the clerk would pick up the ring, toss it into a drawer with countless other rings whose owners were feeling dramatically melancholic, and the sell the lot on Ebay in her monthly auction.
I had Amy Winehouse blasting in my earbuds as I got off the subway. Ironically the songs "Wake Up Alone" and "Some Unholy War" were playing at the time I was making my way into the courthouse. I decided that I shouldn't feel any different when I finally got up there. Today was just an arbitrary line in the sand. Had my separation agreement stated July 14, 2007 as the last day we were together, then I would have been making that walk yesterday. And yesterday I was just as ready and not sad about the marriage ending. I did sad back in October when I lost my marbles and had to take a leave of absence from work.
I got up to the 10th floor, hung a left and started the process again. James Bond was at his desk giving directions to two ladies in line ahead of me. One thing I hadn't noticed the first two times at the courthouse was how many women were there. I'm sure most of them were there for the same reason I was.
James looked over my paperwork and asked if there were any children born of the marriage. Nope. He hand marked zero on one of the pages of my affidavit. He questioned an order I'd asked for covering my costs. "Let me know how that goes. I don't think it's going to wash with the judge." Geez. You'd think I was asking the court to order Simon be skinned alive. I did all the grunt work in getting this shit together. The least the asshole can do is pay for it.
James ordered me over to the file room to pick up my case file. As I crossed that hallway, something changed. Suddenly, the whole situation really started to suck.
I filled out the case file request card and a clerk retrieved my folder. He handed it to me and I walked away, back to where James was waiting on the other side. "Ma'am! Ma'am! You can't leave the room with that!" Oops. "We don't want to have to call security." Oh for fuck's sake, it was an honest mistake. I forgot about that rule - look only, no touching. Another clerk grabbed the file from me and walked it back behind the counter. The first clerk pointed out my mistake, I had checked "Viewing" instead of "Counter Tray". Excuuuuuuuuse me. The second clerk took my file and walked it over to James. He was guarding it like I was about to mug him for it. I could have taken him, he was a pussy. :P
I got my number from James - B3 - and sat down to wait. Again, the feeling of weird was happening. Not quite sad, but I was no longer happy. I thumbed through my paperwork until I got to my marriage certificate. That little piece of paper was still binding me to Simon.
I remember one particularly nasty fight we had where he had grabbed the certificate and threatened to rip it up. I totally fucking lost it on him. I grabbed his sketch book that had a number of drawings he had been labouring over for a few weeks.
"Give it back or I trash your drawings!" I yelled.
"You fucking stupid bitch. I hate you!" He screamed back.
"Give it back RIGHT NOW!" I screamed as I held his book up over my head.
He relented and put down the certificate. I threw his book at him. I picked up my precious piece of paper. He'd bent the folder it was in a little bit. That infuriated me even more because the folder had cost $25, and I hadn't wanted to spend the extra money on top of the already $500 we were spending on the ceremony. I tried to bend it back into shape. I opened it up to make sure the paper itself was okay, which surprisingly it was.
It was such a pretty certificate, much nicer and more ornate than the ones they hand out for Ontario marriages. It was colourful and had a pretty silver seal. That piece of paper represented the only time in my marriage that I had been truly happy. The five days we were in Vegas getting hitched were an absolute dream. That piece of paper was the keeper of my sweet blissful memory. And that motherfucker tried to rip it up.
And now I was a few minutes away from having to hand it over to an anonymous clerk. I didn't want to. I wanted to keep it, to keep my small moment of happiness, where all my dreams had come true and I was to live happily ever after.
There was nothing I could do to keep the clerk from getting it. I couldn't threaten to tear up her files. I couldn't cry or scream or freak out. I had to surrender it, in exchange for my freedom.
She was going over my paperwork and asked me, as James had, if there were any children born of the marriage. "No, THANK GOD" was my response. She hand marked another part of my affidavit saying as such. That made me wonder how many people have lied on their application. I wonder if it was mothers lying so the fathers wouldn't have claim over the children? Perhaps they were protecting the children from abusive fathers. Perhaps they were being vindictive and using the kids as weapons.
Stamp, sign, stamp, sign, staple, label - done.
And that was it. Done.
She wished me a nice day.
I left with my receipt of payment and suddenly I felt really sad. I remembered all the excitement I was filled with when Simon asked me to marry him. I remembered how happy I was that he agreed to eloping in Vegas and getting married by Elvis. I remembered all the planning and booking and organizing I did to make my dream wedding a reality. I remembered finding my dress, finding his suit, finding my wedding band and getting it sized the day before we left. I remembered the morning of our wedding and breakfast in the hotel restaurant. The limo ride to the chapel. The crazy awesome way Elvis walked me down the aisle. The vows. The kiss. The pictures. The champagne toast in the hotel bar. The call to our parents. Their reaction of pure joy. All our firsts as husband and wife.
And all that's left is a receipt for $280.
I sent a text to my DT. "It's done. I feel weird."
"I know. It's ok. Enjoy the spa and let this day wash over you and wash away."
I walked to the corner of Queen & John. I don't know what it is about that particular spot in the city, but whenever I need solace, I go there.
And as I have been sitting here, drinking coffee and writing it all down over the last hour, I've cried. My tears are mixed up - some of joy, some of anger, and some of sadness.
I didn't get to live happily ever after as a Mrs. I didn't even really get to live all that happily.
But now it's just me - Miss Paprika. And I get to choose how my ending is to play out, and everything in between.
R.I.P.
One Really Bad Marriage
08 JAN 2006 - 15 JULY 2008
A new life begins today.
It's done. Done. Over. Signed and sealed, just waiting to be delivered.
I'm usually very particular about what I choose to wear on days like today - life changing events. However, as I thought about it in the shower this morning, I decided that I really don't give a shit today. It's not like my outfit is going to bring me luck or change the outcome.
I wore my white Ginger Spice shirt with an off white skirt and black flip flops. I purposely didn't wear my mother's earrings. Instead I wore a pair of amethyst and diamond earrings I bought myself back in March, after my first failed attempt at finishing off the divorce. I also purposely wore an old grey sweater that I stole from my Dad about 12 years ago. I always wear it when I need comfort.
I contemplated wearing my wedding band. I had a vision that as the clerk turned away to file my case, I'd take off my ring and leave it on the counter. The clerk would turn again and see that I was gone, and in my place, my lonely ring. The music swells, the camera pulls back into a wide shot, and then fade to black.
In reality, the clerk would pick up the ring, toss it into a drawer with countless other rings whose owners were feeling dramatically melancholic, and the sell the lot on Ebay in her monthly auction.
I had Amy Winehouse blasting in my earbuds as I got off the subway. Ironically the songs "Wake Up Alone" and "Some Unholy War" were playing at the time I was making my way into the courthouse. I decided that I shouldn't feel any different when I finally got up there. Today was just an arbitrary line in the sand. Had my separation agreement stated July 14, 2007 as the last day we were together, then I would have been making that walk yesterday. And yesterday I was just as ready and not sad about the marriage ending. I did sad back in October when I lost my marbles and had to take a leave of absence from work.
I got up to the 10th floor, hung a left and started the process again. James Bond was at his desk giving directions to two ladies in line ahead of me. One thing I hadn't noticed the first two times at the courthouse was how many women were there. I'm sure most of them were there for the same reason I was.
James looked over my paperwork and asked if there were any children born of the marriage. Nope. He hand marked zero on one of the pages of my affidavit. He questioned an order I'd asked for covering my costs. "Let me know how that goes. I don't think it's going to wash with the judge." Geez. You'd think I was asking the court to order Simon be skinned alive. I did all the grunt work in getting this shit together. The least the asshole can do is pay for it.
James ordered me over to the file room to pick up my case file. As I crossed that hallway, something changed. Suddenly, the whole situation really started to suck.
I filled out the case file request card and a clerk retrieved my folder. He handed it to me and I walked away, back to where James was waiting on the other side. "Ma'am! Ma'am! You can't leave the room with that!" Oops. "We don't want to have to call security." Oh for fuck's sake, it was an honest mistake. I forgot about that rule - look only, no touching. Another clerk grabbed the file from me and walked it back behind the counter. The first clerk pointed out my mistake, I had checked "Viewing" instead of "Counter Tray". Excuuuuuuuuse me. The second clerk took my file and walked it over to James. He was guarding it like I was about to mug him for it. I could have taken him, he was a pussy. :P
I got my number from James - B3 - and sat down to wait. Again, the feeling of weird was happening. Not quite sad, but I was no longer happy. I thumbed through my paperwork until I got to my marriage certificate. That little piece of paper was still binding me to Simon.
I remember one particularly nasty fight we had where he had grabbed the certificate and threatened to rip it up. I totally fucking lost it on him. I grabbed his sketch book that had a number of drawings he had been labouring over for a few weeks.
"Give it back or I trash your drawings!" I yelled.
"You fucking stupid bitch. I hate you!" He screamed back.
"Give it back RIGHT NOW!" I screamed as I held his book up over my head.
He relented and put down the certificate. I threw his book at him. I picked up my precious piece of paper. He'd bent the folder it was in a little bit. That infuriated me even more because the folder had cost $25, and I hadn't wanted to spend the extra money on top of the already $500 we were spending on the ceremony. I tried to bend it back into shape. I opened it up to make sure the paper itself was okay, which surprisingly it was.
It was such a pretty certificate, much nicer and more ornate than the ones they hand out for Ontario marriages. It was colourful and had a pretty silver seal. That piece of paper represented the only time in my marriage that I had been truly happy. The five days we were in Vegas getting hitched were an absolute dream. That piece of paper was the keeper of my sweet blissful memory. And that motherfucker tried to rip it up.
And now I was a few minutes away from having to hand it over to an anonymous clerk. I didn't want to. I wanted to keep it, to keep my small moment of happiness, where all my dreams had come true and I was to live happily ever after.
There was nothing I could do to keep the clerk from getting it. I couldn't threaten to tear up her files. I couldn't cry or scream or freak out. I had to surrender it, in exchange for my freedom.
She was going over my paperwork and asked me, as James had, if there were any children born of the marriage. "No, THANK GOD" was my response. She hand marked another part of my affidavit saying as such. That made me wonder how many people have lied on their application. I wonder if it was mothers lying so the fathers wouldn't have claim over the children? Perhaps they were protecting the children from abusive fathers. Perhaps they were being vindictive and using the kids as weapons.
Stamp, sign, stamp, sign, staple, label - done.
And that was it. Done.
She wished me a nice day.
I left with my receipt of payment and suddenly I felt really sad. I remembered all the excitement I was filled with when Simon asked me to marry him. I remembered how happy I was that he agreed to eloping in Vegas and getting married by Elvis. I remembered all the planning and booking and organizing I did to make my dream wedding a reality. I remembered finding my dress, finding his suit, finding my wedding band and getting it sized the day before we left. I remembered the morning of our wedding and breakfast in the hotel restaurant. The limo ride to the chapel. The crazy awesome way Elvis walked me down the aisle. The vows. The kiss. The pictures. The champagne toast in the hotel bar. The call to our parents. Their reaction of pure joy. All our firsts as husband and wife.
And all that's left is a receipt for $280.
I sent a text to my DT. "It's done. I feel weird."
"I know. It's ok. Enjoy the spa and let this day wash over you and wash away."
I walked to the corner of Queen & John. I don't know what it is about that particular spot in the city, but whenever I need solace, I go there.
And as I have been sitting here, drinking coffee and writing it all down over the last hour, I've cried. My tears are mixed up - some of joy, some of anger, and some of sadness.
I didn't get to live happily ever after as a Mrs. I didn't even really get to live all that happily.
But now it's just me - Miss Paprika. And I get to choose how my ending is to play out, and everything in between.
R.I.P.
One Really Bad Marriage
08 JAN 2006 - 15 JULY 2008
A new life begins today.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Singular Sensation
"Tomorrow! Tomorrow! I love ya, tomorrow! You're only a day away!"
From the musical Annie
"One, singular sensation! Every little step she takes!"
From the musical A Chorus Line
I woke up this morning without a voice. Yup, totally voiceless. I tried to yell at the cat for swatting my head to wake me up and no sound came out.
Nothing.
For a moment I thought I'd died, because of course you can't make sounds when you're dead. Then for a moment I thought I'd died still married to Simon. Then I jumped out of my bed and really hurt my abdomen. I'm not catching any breaks this month when it comes to my health.
Ironically, I've had quite a few dreams over the last few weeks where I've lost my voice. I've been in really bad situations where I need to scream and I am physically unable to make any sound at all.
The last time I lost my voice was 5 years ago when I was producing/directing/writing/starring in a play for the local Fringe Festival. There was a lot of crap happening on and off the stage. I felt like no one was listening to me at all. Not as a fellow actor, not as the director, and certainly not as the boss-girl producer.
About 3 weeks before opening night, I woke up and my voice was gone. I went to the doctor and he diagnosed it being stressed induced laryngitis. I had to take a vow of silence for 3 weeks and even then, I only managed to squeak through opening night. That was one of the roughest months of my life. The show was well received, however I ended up losing a thousand dollars on the show overall and never spoke to the cast ever again.
My current condition could be due to the fact that I had two consecutive shows with my band, and then I spent the day at Canada's Wonderland hollering my head off on the roller coasters.
Or it could be due to the fact that tomorrow, I will be finally putting the last nail in the coffin that holds my dead marriage.
I'm really scared that something is going to go wrong between now and tomorrow morning. And maybe that fear has manifested itself in laryngitis.
All I can do is suck back honey & warm water and try to relax. Everything is going to be fine. I will be at the courthouse at 8:30am tomorrow and I will finally sever the ties that have bound me for the last 2 1/2 years. And then it's off to the spa!
Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock....
From the musical Annie
"One, singular sensation! Every little step she takes!"
From the musical A Chorus Line
I woke up this morning without a voice. Yup, totally voiceless. I tried to yell at the cat for swatting my head to wake me up and no sound came out.
Nothing.
For a moment I thought I'd died, because of course you can't make sounds when you're dead. Then for a moment I thought I'd died still married to Simon. Then I jumped out of my bed and really hurt my abdomen. I'm not catching any breaks this month when it comes to my health.
Ironically, I've had quite a few dreams over the last few weeks where I've lost my voice. I've been in really bad situations where I need to scream and I am physically unable to make any sound at all.
The last time I lost my voice was 5 years ago when I was producing/directing/writing/starring in a play for the local Fringe Festival. There was a lot of crap happening on and off the stage. I felt like no one was listening to me at all. Not as a fellow actor, not as the director, and certainly not as the boss-girl producer.
About 3 weeks before opening night, I woke up and my voice was gone. I went to the doctor and he diagnosed it being stressed induced laryngitis. I had to take a vow of silence for 3 weeks and even then, I only managed to squeak through opening night. That was one of the roughest months of my life. The show was well received, however I ended up losing a thousand dollars on the show overall and never spoke to the cast ever again.
My current condition could be due to the fact that I had two consecutive shows with my band, and then I spent the day at Canada's Wonderland hollering my head off on the roller coasters.
Or it could be due to the fact that tomorrow, I will be finally putting the last nail in the coffin that holds my dead marriage.
I'm really scared that something is going to go wrong between now and tomorrow morning. And maybe that fear has manifested itself in laryngitis.
All I can do is suck back honey & warm water and try to relax. Everything is going to be fine. I will be at the courthouse at 8:30am tomorrow and I will finally sever the ties that have bound me for the last 2 1/2 years. And then it's off to the spa!
Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock....
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Friday, July 11, 2008
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
VI
Six is the second smallest composite number, its proper divisors being 1, 2 and 3. Since six equals the sum of these proper divisors, six is a perfect number. As a perfect number, 6 is related to the Mersenne prime 3, since 21(22 - 1) = 6. (The next perfect number is 28.) Six is the only number that is both the sum and the product of three consecutive positive numbers.
Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock....
Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock....
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
604,800
One more week.
Seven more days.
168 more hours.
10,080 more minutes.
604,800 more seconds.
I'm having a hard time hanging on now. I'm about ready to jump out of my skin. I'm having trouble sleeping again. I just want this week to zoom by so I can get to that courthouse and get it done.
Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock....
Seven more days.
168 more hours.
10,080 more minutes.
604,800 more seconds.
I'm having a hard time hanging on now. I'm about ready to jump out of my skin. I'm having trouble sleeping again. I just want this week to zoom by so I can get to that courthouse and get it done.
Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock....
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
One Weak Week
Seven days later and I'm still bloated, still sore, and still alone.
I just re-read my last post...what does a girl have to do to get a little bit of attention from the guy she really likes? One would think surgery would do it, but not in this case.
I have heard zilch from my Butterfly since those few fleeting text messages after my surgery. No emails, no phone calls, no text messages, no smoke signals, and no pigeons (although there are a few nesting on my balcony, none came with a note).
NOTHING
NOTHING
NOTHING
Which is what I should be feeling for him now. NOTHING. He has shown me beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is a grade-A-son-of-a-bitch-loser-mother-fucker.
But last night I was lying in bed wishing on a star, hoping with all my might, that he would contact me. He's leaving tomorrow for a 2 week vacation to Portugal. His Facebook status says "Butterfly wants your home address if You want a postcard from him." I am soooooooo tempted to email him my address. But I know I'll only be disappointed when he doesn't send me a postcard. Just like he didn't call me this WHOLE week. I'm housebound, and he's currently between jobs so there's nothing stopping us from being together for a few hours.
Okay, I think I'm done being a whiny loser. But you gotta cut me some slack. It was the first guy I allowed myself to care about since my husband. Since LAST SUMMER! I knew it would be hard, and I knew it would hurt, but I didn't anticipate it would suck this badly.
I just re-read my last post...what does a girl have to do to get a little bit of attention from the guy she really likes? One would think surgery would do it, but not in this case.
I have heard zilch from my Butterfly since those few fleeting text messages after my surgery. No emails, no phone calls, no text messages, no smoke signals, and no pigeons (although there are a few nesting on my balcony, none came with a note).
NOTHING
NOTHING
NOTHING
Which is what I should be feeling for him now. NOTHING. He has shown me beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is a grade-A-son-of-a-bitch-loser-mother-fucker.
But last night I was lying in bed wishing on a star, hoping with all my might, that he would contact me. He's leaving tomorrow for a 2 week vacation to Portugal. His Facebook status says "Butterfly wants your home address if You want a postcard from him." I am soooooooo tempted to email him my address. But I know I'll only be disappointed when he doesn't send me a postcard. Just like he didn't call me this WHOLE week. I'm housebound, and he's currently between jobs so there's nothing stopping us from being together for a few hours.
Okay, I think I'm done being a whiny loser. But you gotta cut me some slack. It was the first guy I allowed myself to care about since my husband. Since LAST SUMMER! I knew it would be hard, and I knew it would hurt, but I didn't anticipate it would suck this badly.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Ms. Appendectomy
I had quasi-emergency surgery at 1:30am yesterday morning. It was to remove my inflamed-but-getting-close-to-bursting appendix. I am really glad I listened to my body enough to get myself to the doctor for the diagnosis.
The pain started on Sunday night, after eating a few hamburgers my brother had cooked on the BBQ. I figured my tummy just wasn't liking my brother's cooking. I was running a fever and feeling super duper nauseous. I slept it off and woke up Monday morning ready to take on the world! Well, I was ready to get my annual physical from my family doctor, aka hand-up-in-my-junk exam. I skipped breakfast knowing he would be sending me for blood work, which usually requires at least 8 hours of fasting.
I was feeling fine during my examination so I figured whatever was bugging my tummy the night before had worked its way out. Along with the blood work, my doctor wanted me to get an x-ray on my left leg to make sure I didn't break it from dropping a box on it 6 months ago. There's still a bruise which is tender to the touch.
As I was waiting for my x-ray, I started to feel a bit queasy. Then as I was getting my blood drawn, I was feeling down right vomit-ious. Of course, I chalked it up to not having had anything to eat since the disaster burgers the night before. The remedy for nausea is of course, getting a cheeseburger Happy Meal from McDonald's on the drive back to Toronto.
I got to the office at about 2pm and by 3pm, I was running a fever and feeling down right bad. I left the office at 4pm and when I got home, I called Telehealth Ontario. After being on hold and then getting on the call back list (there's even a wait time for a phone service!), a nurse listened to me describe my symptoms and suggested I see a doctor within 4 hours. And upon that advice, I ate a plain piece of bread and passed out around 9pm.
Tuesday morning arrived and with it, more pain. There was no sleeping off whatever this was. I emailed work to let them know I would be going to the doctor and would probably be in the next day. Famous last words!
The doctor at the clinic took a look at me for about 2 seconds and declared me to be suffering from appendicitis. He asked me if anyone had come with me, to which the answer was no, as I don't have a husband or even a boyfriend. He advised me to "get someone" and get my ass to a hospital ASAP.
I called my Faux Beau and of course, he came to my rescue (as per usual). I checked into the ER at 2pm on the "urgent care" list. Two hours later I was finally examined, on a chair outside of the nurses station. Apparently, they were all full up, not an empty bed in sight. My doctor was this beautiful, delicate, picture-perfect woman. I wanted to punch her for that, and for telling me they were going to yank out my appendix. I started to cry and she told me to save my tears for later. Later? Later?! Like how about right at that moment when I realized that my family was 2 hours away, my cat was at home unfed, and I had my FAUX beau there with me instead of my HUSBAND or even my Butterfly.
I sucked it up long enough to get an ultrasound which took an hour and a half because my appendix was hiding behind all sorts of gas in my bowels. The technician couldn't get a clear picture so she suggested a vaginal ultrasound. Sure! Why not?! That's exactly what I needed - a condom covered wand that would make all my dreams come true. Sadly, that was the most action I'd seen since my Butterfly faded away.
Still with no appendix in sight, the technician called in not one, but two doctors. Thankfully there wasn't going to be a repeat wand-up-the-vajayjay. However they had me half twisted on the exam table and jabbing me mercilessly with the ultrasound wand. Finally the gas passed enough for them to get a picture of my appendix. Yup, as suspected, it was angry and inflamed.
They shipped me back to the ER to await my doom, er, the surgeon. At this point my Divorce Twin had arrived. She did quite a routine to keep my mind off the impending abdominal slicing. When my surgeon finally arrived around 8:30pm, both DT and I fell in love with him. He was the CUTEST thing EVER! Tall, brown hair, bluuuuuue eyes, slightly unshaven. Heaven in scrubs!
He explained the surgery to me and asked if I had any questions. (Question: How many of these have you done? Answer: 500, all lived to tell the tale.) When he left my room, my DT suggested I should ask him out. Ha! Really, how do you ask out someone who's about to go head first into your bowels? I took a pass on that one.
Midnight came and went and so did DT as she had an early morning meeting with her boss that was not to be missed. Faux Beau let me play with his blackberry and I updated my Facebook status to let everyone know I was going under the knife sooner rather than later.
Then it was time to go up to the OR. This is the part where I really wished I was in the alternate universe where Simon was not insane and still my husband and holding my hand as they wheeled me into prep. This is the part where I wished my Butterfly wasn't so fucking neurotic and afraid of his feelings and was beside me, holding my hand while the anesthesiologist was explaining how he was going to shove a tube down my throat to keep me alive during surgery. This is the part where I wondered why someone who is as smart and funny and wonderful as me was lying there by herself, having to face her own mortality because of a little useless organ that decided to get angry.
My heart rate hit 166 beats per minute before the anesthetic kicked in and knocked my sorry ass out.
Faux Beau told me it took about 2 hours before they brought me out of recovery. Apparently I had a hard time waking up. He emailed my dad & brothers to let them know I was alive and then headed home to get some much needed sleep. It was 4:30am and I was lying in a bed with 3 shiny new cuts in my belly. I was lying there shivering, in pain, and ALONE.
I fell in and out of consciousness until about 9am. My McDreamy Surgeon came in to check on me and he told me a bunch of stuff I can't remember because I was totally STONED on MORPHINE. Again, another reason why it's better to have someone with you during life changing events.
Later, when I could make out solid shapes, I turned on my cell phone and there were a few worried text messages from my Butterfly. Yay! He actually cared!! I responded to let him know I was alive. He sent a message back asking where I was. Yay! He's going to come and visit!! I sent him the info. He asked me if they'd given me jello. Yes, I said. What colour, he asked. Red! I said! And then NOTHING. I truly must have been stoned out of my mind to think he'd actually show up.
Faux Beau, DT and my friend Jason all arrived in the afternoon with tea, flowers and jogging pants respectively. They kept me entertained while I ate my shitty hospital food and then packed me up and brought me home. My cat had thrown up while I was away. He does that if I don't let him know I'll be gone overnight. It's touching, yet sad that the only creature on this planet who throws up if I'm gone, licks his own balls.
And then I was alone, again. And again I was wishing for that alternate universe where Simon would be taking care of me. Or where Butterfly would be over, trying to make me laugh but not because it hurt my stitches. Or another universe where there was SOMEONE, who loved me in the biblical sense, taking care of me.
Sleep last night was excruciating. I should have stayed in the hospital where my fancy bed could maneuver me into a position that didn't feel like my stomach was being ripped apart. I should have stayed so that I could pull on the cord and someone (although paid for it) who gave a shit would come help me to the bathroom.
This experience reinforced why it is that I so badly want to be in a relationship now. Alone hurts. Alone and scared hurts more. Alone and facing the unknown is truly unbearable.
The pain started on Sunday night, after eating a few hamburgers my brother had cooked on the BBQ. I figured my tummy just wasn't liking my brother's cooking. I was running a fever and feeling super duper nauseous. I slept it off and woke up Monday morning ready to take on the world! Well, I was ready to get my annual physical from my family doctor, aka hand-up-in-my-junk exam. I skipped breakfast knowing he would be sending me for blood work, which usually requires at least 8 hours of fasting.
I was feeling fine during my examination so I figured whatever was bugging my tummy the night before had worked its way out. Along with the blood work, my doctor wanted me to get an x-ray on my left leg to make sure I didn't break it from dropping a box on it 6 months ago. There's still a bruise which is tender to the touch.
As I was waiting for my x-ray, I started to feel a bit queasy. Then as I was getting my blood drawn, I was feeling down right vomit-ious. Of course, I chalked it up to not having had anything to eat since the disaster burgers the night before. The remedy for nausea is of course, getting a cheeseburger Happy Meal from McDonald's on the drive back to Toronto.
I got to the office at about 2pm and by 3pm, I was running a fever and feeling down right bad. I left the office at 4pm and when I got home, I called Telehealth Ontario. After being on hold and then getting on the call back list (there's even a wait time for a phone service!), a nurse listened to me describe my symptoms and suggested I see a doctor within 4 hours. And upon that advice, I ate a plain piece of bread and passed out around 9pm.
Tuesday morning arrived and with it, more pain. There was no sleeping off whatever this was. I emailed work to let them know I would be going to the doctor and would probably be in the next day. Famous last words!
The doctor at the clinic took a look at me for about 2 seconds and declared me to be suffering from appendicitis. He asked me if anyone had come with me, to which the answer was no, as I don't have a husband or even a boyfriend. He advised me to "get someone" and get my ass to a hospital ASAP.
I called my Faux Beau and of course, he came to my rescue (as per usual). I checked into the ER at 2pm on the "urgent care" list. Two hours later I was finally examined, on a chair outside of the nurses station. Apparently, they were all full up, not an empty bed in sight. My doctor was this beautiful, delicate, picture-perfect woman. I wanted to punch her for that, and for telling me they were going to yank out my appendix. I started to cry and she told me to save my tears for later. Later? Later?! Like how about right at that moment when I realized that my family was 2 hours away, my cat was at home unfed, and I had my FAUX beau there with me instead of my HUSBAND or even my Butterfly.
I sucked it up long enough to get an ultrasound which took an hour and a half because my appendix was hiding behind all sorts of gas in my bowels. The technician couldn't get a clear picture so she suggested a vaginal ultrasound. Sure! Why not?! That's exactly what I needed - a condom covered wand that would make all my dreams come true. Sadly, that was the most action I'd seen since my Butterfly faded away.
Still with no appendix in sight, the technician called in not one, but two doctors. Thankfully there wasn't going to be a repeat wand-up-the-vajayjay. However they had me half twisted on the exam table and jabbing me mercilessly with the ultrasound wand. Finally the gas passed enough for them to get a picture of my appendix. Yup, as suspected, it was angry and inflamed.
They shipped me back to the ER to await my doom, er, the surgeon. At this point my Divorce Twin had arrived. She did quite a routine to keep my mind off the impending abdominal slicing. When my surgeon finally arrived around 8:30pm, both DT and I fell in love with him. He was the CUTEST thing EVER! Tall, brown hair, bluuuuuue eyes, slightly unshaven. Heaven in scrubs!
He explained the surgery to me and asked if I had any questions. (Question: How many of these have you done? Answer: 500, all lived to tell the tale.) When he left my room, my DT suggested I should ask him out. Ha! Really, how do you ask out someone who's about to go head first into your bowels? I took a pass on that one.
Midnight came and went and so did DT as she had an early morning meeting with her boss that was not to be missed. Faux Beau let me play with his blackberry and I updated my Facebook status to let everyone know I was going under the knife sooner rather than later.
Then it was time to go up to the OR. This is the part where I really wished I was in the alternate universe where Simon was not insane and still my husband and holding my hand as they wheeled me into prep. This is the part where I wished my Butterfly wasn't so fucking neurotic and afraid of his feelings and was beside me, holding my hand while the anesthesiologist was explaining how he was going to shove a tube down my throat to keep me alive during surgery. This is the part where I wondered why someone who is as smart and funny and wonderful as me was lying there by herself, having to face her own mortality because of a little useless organ that decided to get angry.
My heart rate hit 166 beats per minute before the anesthetic kicked in and knocked my sorry ass out.
Faux Beau told me it took about 2 hours before they brought me out of recovery. Apparently I had a hard time waking up. He emailed my dad & brothers to let them know I was alive and then headed home to get some much needed sleep. It was 4:30am and I was lying in a bed with 3 shiny new cuts in my belly. I was lying there shivering, in pain, and ALONE.
I fell in and out of consciousness until about 9am. My McDreamy Surgeon came in to check on me and he told me a bunch of stuff I can't remember because I was totally STONED on MORPHINE. Again, another reason why it's better to have someone with you during life changing events.
Later, when I could make out solid shapes, I turned on my cell phone and there were a few worried text messages from my Butterfly. Yay! He actually cared!! I responded to let him know I was alive. He sent a message back asking where I was. Yay! He's going to come and visit!! I sent him the info. He asked me if they'd given me jello. Yes, I said. What colour, he asked. Red! I said! And then NOTHING. I truly must have been stoned out of my mind to think he'd actually show up.
Faux Beau, DT and my friend Jason all arrived in the afternoon with tea, flowers and jogging pants respectively. They kept me entertained while I ate my shitty hospital food and then packed me up and brought me home. My cat had thrown up while I was away. He does that if I don't let him know I'll be gone overnight. It's touching, yet sad that the only creature on this planet who throws up if I'm gone, licks his own balls.
And then I was alone, again. And again I was wishing for that alternate universe where Simon would be taking care of me. Or where Butterfly would be over, trying to make me laugh but not because it hurt my stitches. Or another universe where there was SOMEONE, who loved me in the biblical sense, taking care of me.
Sleep last night was excruciating. I should have stayed in the hospital where my fancy bed could maneuver me into a position that didn't feel like my stomach was being ripped apart. I should have stayed so that I could pull on the cord and someone (although paid for it) who gave a shit would come help me to the bathroom.
This experience reinforced why it is that I so badly want to be in a relationship now. Alone hurts. Alone and scared hurts more. Alone and facing the unknown is truly unbearable.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Brush and Rinse
Girl misses boy.
Girl wants to send boy an email.
Girl knows better than to lay herself out like a doormat (even more so than she has already).
Girl posts would-be-email here.
"So I came home and found your toothbrush laying helpless in the sink. It looked like she was trying to commit suicide. My toothbrush was still confined to his holder. I'm not sure if he had anything to do with assisting her in flinging herself off the edge. I've called in the SIU with this case.
I picked her up and cradled her in my hand. She looked up at me with her gorgeous blue & white eyes and asked me why you haven't been around.
I shook my head and shrugged. I sort of know the answer, but I'm still not really clear. And being a believer in not passing along misinformation, I didn't answer her question.
She asked me to pass along a message to you. She wants you to come back soon, it's safe here.
So that's all. I'm just passing along the message..."
Girl wants to send boy an email.
Girl knows better than to lay herself out like a doormat (even more so than she has already).
Girl posts would-be-email here.
"So I came home and found your toothbrush laying helpless in the sink. It looked like she was trying to commit suicide. My toothbrush was still confined to his holder. I'm not sure if he had anything to do with assisting her in flinging herself off the edge. I've called in the SIU with this case.
I picked her up and cradled her in my hand. She looked up at me with her gorgeous blue & white eyes and asked me why you haven't been around.
I shook my head and shrugged. I sort of know the answer, but I'm still not really clear. And being a believer in not passing along misinformation, I didn't answer her question.
She asked me to pass along a message to you. She wants you to come back soon, it's safe here.
So that's all. I'm just passing along the message..."
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Flatline
Things between me and my butterfly are pretty much dead. He cancelled a sleep over last night. He said it just wasn't in the cards for him, as he's in a "bad head space".
What the fuck is a bad head space? Honestly, I don't get that. How bad can your head be to turn down SEX?!
I know that when I dumped Simon, I was in the worst emotional state of my life. But my head still had enough sense in it to recognize that I shouldn't start a relationship that I couldn't fully participate in.
Butterfly started a relationship with me, and is now backing out because he's not emotionally equipped to deal with it.
I wish he would have just said from the beginning, "All I want is sex from you, whenever I want it. Don't make plans with me, don't introduce me to your friends, just boo-tay please and thanks." That way I could have made an informed decision about whether to get involved. But that's not what happened. He wooed me. He played the part of a boyfriend, which is what I was looking for.
So with that, I quit. Again.
Never again.
Never again.
Never again.
Never again...
What the fuck is a bad head space? Honestly, I don't get that. How bad can your head be to turn down SEX?!
I know that when I dumped Simon, I was in the worst emotional state of my life. But my head still had enough sense in it to recognize that I shouldn't start a relationship that I couldn't fully participate in.
Butterfly started a relationship with me, and is now backing out because he's not emotionally equipped to deal with it.
I wish he would have just said from the beginning, "All I want is sex from you, whenever I want it. Don't make plans with me, don't introduce me to your friends, just boo-tay please and thanks." That way I could have made an informed decision about whether to get involved. But that's not what happened. He wooed me. He played the part of a boyfriend, which is what I was looking for.
So with that, I quit. Again.
Never again.
Never again.
Never again.
Never again...
Sunday, June 01, 2008
Final Countdown
In 32 hours, my Divorce Twin will be filing her second set of court papers. And in 30 days, she'll have a shiny new divorce decree.
In 44 days and 8 hours, I'll be filing my second set of court papers. And then you'll find me passed out in a bar somewhere shortly thereafter. I won't be drinking to drown my sorrows, I'll be drinking to celebrate my freedom!
As identical as this experience has been for me and my DT, there is one fundamental difference. I'm happy about it being over. She's profoundly sad. I am having a hard time providing her support at this point in time because I'm just so bloody happy it's almost done. I'm sure she doesn't want to hear how happy I am.
DT - I love you. You are amazing and strong and even though you are sad, you will be okay. I'm going to keep telling you this until one day you will look in the mirror and realize it's true. It's okay. It'll all be okay. You have the strength to do this, I promise.
Twelve months ago, the beginning of the end arrived. It was June 2007 when everything started to unravel at a speed I couldn't manage. Watching my life dissolve before my very eyes was overwhelming to say the least.
And now sitting here, with twelve months in between that life and this life, all I can do is breathe. Big breath in, and all of it out. My life is better, but not. My outlook is clear, but fuzzy. My hope for the future is there, but not at all. Conundrum. I never really understood the weight of that word until now.
I've had to patch myself back together, piece by microscopic piece. I don't think I've found all the pieces yet. I don't think I ever will. Some were completely obliterated on July 15, 2007. But for the most part, the core of me has been reset to where I was prior to meeting my husband.
I wish life could be like a computer. You can always reboot when everything crashes.
In 44 days and 8 hours, I'll be filing my second set of court papers. And then you'll find me passed out in a bar somewhere shortly thereafter. I won't be drinking to drown my sorrows, I'll be drinking to celebrate my freedom!
As identical as this experience has been for me and my DT, there is one fundamental difference. I'm happy about it being over. She's profoundly sad. I am having a hard time providing her support at this point in time because I'm just so bloody happy it's almost done. I'm sure she doesn't want to hear how happy I am.
DT - I love you. You are amazing and strong and even though you are sad, you will be okay. I'm going to keep telling you this until one day you will look in the mirror and realize it's true. It's okay. It'll all be okay. You have the strength to do this, I promise.
Twelve months ago, the beginning of the end arrived. It was June 2007 when everything started to unravel at a speed I couldn't manage. Watching my life dissolve before my very eyes was overwhelming to say the least.
And now sitting here, with twelve months in between that life and this life, all I can do is breathe. Big breath in, and all of it out. My life is better, but not. My outlook is clear, but fuzzy. My hope for the future is there, but not at all. Conundrum. I never really understood the weight of that word until now.
I've had to patch myself back together, piece by microscopic piece. I don't think I've found all the pieces yet. I don't think I ever will. Some were completely obliterated on July 15, 2007. But for the most part, the core of me has been reset to where I was prior to meeting my husband.
I wish life could be like a computer. You can always reboot when everything crashes.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Flutter
After two weeks of not talking to my butterfly, I broke down and sent a message via FB. It simply said, "Why aren't you talking to me anymore?"
I got back a huge diatribe. My favourite line was, "I offended you grandly, you offended me specifically." I replied with a simple, "I'm sorry. I miss you." And I got back another long diatribe, at the end of which was "I miss you too."
That was enough for me. Seriously, he had me at hello. (groan) So I sucked up my pride and made nice.
We went for a walk on Thursday and made small talk. I linked my pinky around his. He squeezed my hand. At the end of our walk, he gave me a really great hug and said "sorry" in my ear. I would have given him anything at that moment had he asked.
We made plans for the next night, dinner and a movie. Dinner was great. Lots of smiling and genuine conversation. Then it was back to my place.
We never did end up watching the movie...
I got back a huge diatribe. My favourite line was, "I offended you grandly, you offended me specifically." I replied with a simple, "I'm sorry. I miss you." And I got back another long diatribe, at the end of which was "I miss you too."
That was enough for me. Seriously, he had me at hello. (groan) So I sucked up my pride and made nice.
We went for a walk on Thursday and made small talk. I linked my pinky around his. He squeezed my hand. At the end of our walk, he gave me a really great hug and said "sorry" in my ear. I would have given him anything at that moment had he asked.
We made plans for the next night, dinner and a movie. Dinner was great. Lots of smiling and genuine conversation. Then it was back to my place.
We never did end up watching the movie...
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Jerk Punch
I think there should be a law that allows women to punch men in the balls with brass knuckles when they act like assholes in a relationship.
Men are like dogs, you have to train them. And I think if men knew a brass knuckled punch in the balls was a consequence for their actions, that would probably make them think at least twice before going ahead with said asshole-ish action.
I saw my dead butterfly outside of the office yesterday. I know he saw me. And he didn't even acknowledge my existence. That hurt my feelings on top of everything else he did to hurt them.
A solid jerk punch should be allowed in this case.
Men are like dogs, you have to train them. And I think if men knew a brass knuckled punch in the balls was a consequence for their actions, that would probably make them think at least twice before going ahead with said asshole-ish action.
I saw my dead butterfly outside of the office yesterday. I know he saw me. And he didn't even acknowledge my existence. That hurt my feelings on top of everything else he did to hurt them.
A solid jerk punch should be allowed in this case.
Thursday, May 08, 2008
I'm Worth It?
My good friend's husband has this to say about my dead butterflies. I think it's absolutely correct. I'm posting it here so I can come back and reference it whenever I need a reminder.
“Men are LAZY. They will only treat you well enough to keep you. The reason I treat my wife so well is because if I didn't, she'd be GONE IN 60 SECONDS. The reason she'd be gone is because she KNOWS she's worth it, and DEMANDS that level of respect. The reason men walk all over Paprika is because she doesn't like herself enough to believe that she deserves better. She SAYS that she loves herself and she's confident, but if that were true, she wouldn't spend so much time worrying about "What does THIS mean? What does THAT mean? What does it mean when he does THIS?" You want to know the correct answer to those questions? WHO CARES? Even if you're going to lie awake at night worrying about how your relationship is going, trust me, HE'S NOT. You talk about what you WANT (I want him to want to spend time, call, think about me, whatever). If what you want has to come from someone else, you're never going to be happy.”
“Men are LAZY. They will only treat you well enough to keep you. The reason I treat my wife so well is because if I didn't, she'd be GONE IN 60 SECONDS. The reason she'd be gone is because she KNOWS she's worth it, and DEMANDS that level of respect. The reason men walk all over Paprika is because she doesn't like herself enough to believe that she deserves better. She SAYS that she loves herself and she's confident, but if that were true, she wouldn't spend so much time worrying about "What does THIS mean? What does THAT mean? What does it mean when he does THIS?" You want to know the correct answer to those questions? WHO CARES? Even if you're going to lie awake at night worrying about how your relationship is going, trust me, HE'S NOT. You talk about what you WANT (I want him to want to spend time, call, think about me, whatever). If what you want has to come from someone else, you're never going to be happy.”
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Dead Butterflies
So much for that. Just when it was feeling so good, it crashed and burned.
Perhaps I'm just meant to be alone. Perhaps I'm not worthy of anyone to care about me for more than a minute.
Somehow my crazy ex-husband can convince a woman to carry his baby while he's living in his parents' basement without a car and is still married to me.
I can't convince the guy I was dating to spend more than one evening a week with me.
Let's say it together - WTF?!
I'm going to NYC next week. I think I may have to follow in the foot steps of Kim Cattrell's character of Samantha in "Sex and the City". Find me a random hottie and just fuck him.
Perhaps I'm just meant to be alone. Perhaps I'm not worthy of anyone to care about me for more than a minute.
Somehow my crazy ex-husband can convince a woman to carry his baby while he's living in his parents' basement without a car and is still married to me.
I can't convince the guy I was dating to spend more than one evening a week with me.
Let's say it together - WTF?!
I'm going to NYC next week. I think I may have to follow in the foot steps of Kim Cattrell's character of Samantha in "Sex and the City". Find me a random hottie and just fuck him.
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Stranger Love
Lately I've been getting a lot of hugs from either total strangers or slight acquaintances. I don't know if I have some sort of pathetic look on my face, but people (mostly men) have felt the need to put their arm around me in comfort.
I've had a coworker, a film director, a band mate, a doctor and a mechanic all scoop me into their arms. Some have even kissed me on the forehead.
Do I look sad? I don't feel sad. And I'm finally all the way off my antidepressants. I am happy to report that I feel totally fine. I've been a little sick lately with blocked sinuses, but other than that, this is the happiest I've been in a long time.
Maybe it's because I'm just way too cute. So totally cute that these men can't help themselves. :)
Or maybe the universe is showing me some love. Either way, it's nice. Sometimes a little weird, but nice.
I've had a coworker, a film director, a band mate, a doctor and a mechanic all scoop me into their arms. Some have even kissed me on the forehead.
Do I look sad? I don't feel sad. And I'm finally all the way off my antidepressants. I am happy to report that I feel totally fine. I've been a little sick lately with blocked sinuses, but other than that, this is the happiest I've been in a long time.
Maybe it's because I'm just way too cute. So totally cute that these men can't help themselves. :)
Or maybe the universe is showing me some love. Either way, it's nice. Sometimes a little weird, but nice.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Baby Mama #2
Not only does Simon collect wives, he collects baby mamas. I found out through a friend of mine that he's gotten his current girlfriend pregnant. My friend wanted to break the news to me gently so she asked me out to dinner last night. She didn't want me to find out the way she did, via Facebook. Apparently, both Simon's profile picture and the baby mama's is a close up shot of the positive pee stick. (Eeewww!)
Now before you all shake your head thinking it was a mistake, I also found out that it was planned.
Planned?
PLANNED?
P.L.A.N.N.E.D?!?!?!?!
HELLOOOOOOOO? MCFLY?! Did you forget about your first daughter, for whom you can't provide child support? Did you forget you are living in your parents' basement? Did you forget you make minimum wage? Did you forget you don't own a car? Did you forget you don't even know how to file your own taxes?
Two words come to mind - mandatory sterilization.
And a few more words come to mind - thank GOD it's not me.
Now before you all shake your head thinking it was a mistake, I also found out that it was planned.
Planned?
PLANNED?
P.L.A.N.N.E.D?!?!?!?!
HELLOOOOOOOO? MCFLY?! Did you forget about your first daughter, for whom you can't provide child support? Did you forget you are living in your parents' basement? Did you forget you make minimum wage? Did you forget you don't own a car? Did you forget you don't even know how to file your own taxes?
Two words come to mind - mandatory sterilization.
And a few more words come to mind - thank GOD it's not me.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Bingo
I have a huge smile on my face. And it's because a man put it there last night. :)
Butterflies...
Butterflies...
Monday, April 21, 2008
Red Flags
The Hot Docs Film Festival is in full swing, and I'm the Head Theatre Rep at the Al Green venue.
I was walking along Bloor on my way to the theatre yesterday, when I managed to catch a whiff of a guy's cologne who was walking in the opposite direction. It was Dolce & Gabbana, the exact same cologne that Simon wears.
Shudder.
My heart stopped for a good 10 seconds. I actually had to turn around to make sure it wasn't him. I knew smells could conjure up memories, but I didn't realize how strong of an association smell has with particularly bad memories.
I managed to recover from my slight heart attack and started my shift. Part of my job is making sure the directors who are in attendance are well taken care of. My 9pm screening had a director with the last name of Simon.
Double shudder.
Good thing I'm allowed to call them by their first name (Marc).
In that same screening, a young couple came with their baby boy. Of course, all of us girls were cooing over the little guy. I asked the father the baby's name. Simon.
Triple shudder.
I had to take a moment before I could regain my power of speech and continue cooing over Simon.
So, if you've taken a moment to tally, you can see there were three very distinct Simon signs. I have an eerie feeling that some sort of confrontation is going to happen. Things happen in threes for a reason. And I don't think those signs could have been any more clear.
I officially have my guard up. Here's to hoping it's just a false alarm.
I was walking along Bloor on my way to the theatre yesterday, when I managed to catch a whiff of a guy's cologne who was walking in the opposite direction. It was Dolce & Gabbana, the exact same cologne that Simon wears.
Shudder.
My heart stopped for a good 10 seconds. I actually had to turn around to make sure it wasn't him. I knew smells could conjure up memories, but I didn't realize how strong of an association smell has with particularly bad memories.
I managed to recover from my slight heart attack and started my shift. Part of my job is making sure the directors who are in attendance are well taken care of. My 9pm screening had a director with the last name of Simon.
Double shudder.
Good thing I'm allowed to call them by their first name (Marc).
In that same screening, a young couple came with their baby boy. Of course, all of us girls were cooing over the little guy. I asked the father the baby's name. Simon.
Triple shudder.
I had to take a moment before I could regain my power of speech and continue cooing over Simon.
So, if you've taken a moment to tally, you can see there were three very distinct Simon signs. I have an eerie feeling that some sort of confrontation is going to happen. Things happen in threes for a reason. And I don't think those signs could have been any more clear.
I officially have my guard up. Here's to hoping it's just a false alarm.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Friday, March 28, 2008
Worst Day Ever
I called the Superior Court of Justice this morning to see if my divorce application had been cleared by Ottawa. Much to my surprise, it was back!!!
My stomach started doing flips and my heart started beating a million beats a second. I called my DT to let her know about the amazing news! She immediately called the court to see if hers was back too - it was!!!
We made plans to meet at the courthouse at 3:30pm so we could file the 2nd and final set of papers.
I scrambled around my apartment grabbing all my documentation - original application, original separation agreement, original marriage certificate and anything else I thought I would need.
I was late for work, but I didn't care. I was flying high and nothing was going to pull me down! I sent out an email to everyone I know announcing the good news. I told my coworkers that I was leaving at 3pm to go get my divorce!! I felt like I had won the superball of all lotteries.
My DT was freaking out in a different way. She was terrified and crying and doubting everything. I told her it was going to be FINE. I would carry her on my back if I had to, to get her through these last steps.
I was the happiest girl in the world until 4pm, when much to my horror, I was told by the court that they would NOT process my application until on or after July 15th, as that date is the one year anniversary of my separation. And the law says I must be separated for a year. And the court must uphold the law.
Which begs me to ask, why did Ottawa clear my application?
WTF?!
If Ottawa says it's okay, then the court should also say it's okay! If my application was not compliant with the law, then Ottawa should not have cleared it, and put it on hold until such time that it becomes compliant with the law.
Now I know why people send bombs in the mail to the Government.
I have 16 more exruciating weeks until I can go back and have them process the application. I'm taking Tuesday July 15th off of work, going to the court at 8am, be first in line, get it done, and then head to the nearest pub. If any of you care to join me I'll be grateful for the company, and for y'all scraping me off the floor and making sure I get home in one piece.
My stomach started doing flips and my heart started beating a million beats a second. I called my DT to let her know about the amazing news! She immediately called the court to see if hers was back too - it was!!!
We made plans to meet at the courthouse at 3:30pm so we could file the 2nd and final set of papers.
I scrambled around my apartment grabbing all my documentation - original application, original separation agreement, original marriage certificate and anything else I thought I would need.
I was late for work, but I didn't care. I was flying high and nothing was going to pull me down! I sent out an email to everyone I know announcing the good news. I told my coworkers that I was leaving at 3pm to go get my divorce!! I felt like I had won the superball of all lotteries.
My DT was freaking out in a different way. She was terrified and crying and doubting everything. I told her it was going to be FINE. I would carry her on my back if I had to, to get her through these last steps.
I was the happiest girl in the world until 4pm, when much to my horror, I was told by the court that they would NOT process my application until on or after July 15th, as that date is the one year anniversary of my separation. And the law says I must be separated for a year. And the court must uphold the law.
Which begs me to ask, why did Ottawa clear my application?
WTF?!
If Ottawa says it's okay, then the court should also say it's okay! If my application was not compliant with the law, then Ottawa should not have cleared it, and put it on hold until such time that it becomes compliant with the law.
Now I know why people send bombs in the mail to the Government.
I have 16 more exruciating weeks until I can go back and have them process the application. I'm taking Tuesday July 15th off of work, going to the court at 8am, be first in line, get it done, and then head to the nearest pub. If any of you care to join me I'll be grateful for the company, and for y'all scraping me off the floor and making sure I get home in one piece.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Faux Beau No More
I fixed up my Faux Beau with a friend of mine. They hit it off and are now happily coupled.
So no more movie cuddle fests for me.
I guess I have to work on finding a real beau. Yeesh.
So no more movie cuddle fests for me.
I guess I have to work on finding a real beau. Yeesh.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Just Because
Sometimes I need to be childish in expressing my anger towards Simon.
Ahhh. I feel better.Sunday, March 09, 2008
Get Your Own Wardrobe
A friend of mine told me that Simon has another new girlfriend. It's all over his Facebook page, but what else is new. Ppffftttt.
Both his and her profile have a picture of the two of them. The thing that strikes me about the pictures is that he's still wearing the same clothes that I bought for him when we were together. And he's still wearing the watch that I gave him for Christmas 2005.
As with most gifts, I put a lot of thought into them. And if it takes me weeks to find the perfect gift, then I will put in that time. And usually cost is not a deciding factor.
The watch I gave him was a special edition Fossil watch, made specifically for The Matrix movie in 1999. He loves The Matrix trilogy. I searched high and low for that watch. I eventually found it on Ebay, in Korea. I paid a pretty penny for that watch. I made sure it would be delivered in time for him to open it on Christmas morning.
He loved it (of course) and whenever someone would pay him a compliment on the watch, he'd be sure to let them know that his wife gave him the watch as a Christmas present. He got a LOT of compliments on that watch. It really is a freaking cool watch.
So I wonder what he says now? I wonder what he told his current girlfriend about the watch. I wonder what he tells new people about the watch. Imagine, he's at karaoke with his new gf, and the waitress notices the watch. "Here's your beer. Wow, that's a really great watch! Where did you get it?"
I would hope it would go something like this:
Idiot Boy: "Thanks. Yeah, it's a really nice watch."
Waitress: "So where did you get it?"
IB: "Um, my wife gave it to me."
W: (turning to new gf) "Oh wow, you must really love him."
GF: "I'm not his wife."
(awkward silence)
W: "Well, just let me know if you want anything else."
GF: "You should stop wearing that watch."
I can imagine the same scenarios with his clothes, because I got him some really awesome stuff. And I hope everytime he gets dressed in the morning, he looks in the mirror and he sees my face. And I hope he chokes on it. And I hope she chokes on it too when she's doing his laundry. Especially his underwear, cuz I bought them for him too.
Double Ppffffftttt.
Both his and her profile have a picture of the two of them. The thing that strikes me about the pictures is that he's still wearing the same clothes that I bought for him when we were together. And he's still wearing the watch that I gave him for Christmas 2005.
As with most gifts, I put a lot of thought into them. And if it takes me weeks to find the perfect gift, then I will put in that time. And usually cost is not a deciding factor.
The watch I gave him was a special edition Fossil watch, made specifically for The Matrix movie in 1999. He loves The Matrix trilogy. I searched high and low for that watch. I eventually found it on Ebay, in Korea. I paid a pretty penny for that watch. I made sure it would be delivered in time for him to open it on Christmas morning.
He loved it (of course) and whenever someone would pay him a compliment on the watch, he'd be sure to let them know that his wife gave him the watch as a Christmas present. He got a LOT of compliments on that watch. It really is a freaking cool watch.
So I wonder what he says now? I wonder what he told his current girlfriend about the watch. I wonder what he tells new people about the watch. Imagine, he's at karaoke with his new gf, and the waitress notices the watch. "Here's your beer. Wow, that's a really great watch! Where did you get it?"
I would hope it would go something like this:
Idiot Boy: "Thanks. Yeah, it's a really nice watch."
Waitress: "So where did you get it?"
IB: "Um, my wife gave it to me."
W: (turning to new gf) "Oh wow, you must really love him."
GF: "I'm not his wife."
(awkward silence)
W: "Well, just let me know if you want anything else."
GF: "You should stop wearing that watch."
I can imagine the same scenarios with his clothes, because I got him some really awesome stuff. And I hope everytime he gets dressed in the morning, he looks in the mirror and he sees my face. And I hope he chokes on it. And I hope she chokes on it too when she's doing his laundry. Especially his underwear, cuz I bought them for him too.
Double Ppffffftttt.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Jordan
One of the loose ends I've been wanting to tie up is saying a proper goodbye to my stepdaughter Jordan.
I loved her as if she were my own. And she was very easy to love because she was just such an adorable and pleasant little girl.
So it broke my heart that I didn't get the chance to let her know even though things didn't work out between me and her father, I will always hold her in a special place in my heart.
The last time I saw Simon face to face was before Christmas (see post "Wreckage Part III"), and I had asked him what he had told Jordan about our separation. The answer of course, was nothing because Simon has no clue about reality, let alone child rearing.
I couldn't put my finger on why this has been bothering me so much, to the point where I was starting to obsess about it. A session with my therapist shed some much needed light on this subject. Did I mention how much I am loving therapy?
As I was explaining the situation to my therapist, I started to cry pretty hard about it. I don't think I've cried that hard in a session since just after having thrown Simon out. The last time I saw Jordan, I told her I'd see her again real soon. And then poof, I vanished and Simon did nothing to explain why.
I made the connection to my mother's death, and how I've had zero closure with that. The last time I saw my mother alive was probably about a week before she passed away. I remember crying really hard, not wanting to leave her. She hugged and kissed me and promised she'd see me again real soon. And then poof, she vanished. I wasn't allowed to go to the funeral (neither did my brothers). I never got to see her again to have a final goodbye.
I remember for years after her death thinking it was all a mistake. After all, she had promised she'd see me again real soon. And my mom would never lie to me.
I didn't want what happened to me to happen to Jordan. Obviously I'm not her mother. And obviously I'm not on her top 10 list of most important people. But she was a loving little girl who bonded to me very quickly and I just didn't want her to be confused.
My therapist asked me what it was I wanted to do to bring me some closure. I told her that I wanted to write to Gillian, Jordan's mother, and simply say that I would have liked to have said goodbye in person. Since the circumstances didn't allow for me to do that, I wanted Gillian to at least explain to Jordan that I am saying goodbye.
So with my therapist's blessing, I sent an email to Gillian. Here it is, with the response I received.
To: Gillian <*******@yahoo.com>
Date: Fri, Feb 22, 2008 at 5:21 PM
Subject: Loose Ends
Hi Gillian,
I'm not sure what Simon has told you, but he and I have been separated since July. I served him with divorce papers this past Monday. The whole thing should be finalized by the summer.
I wanted to let you know that I think of Jordan often. You have an amazing little girl who is so sweet and smart. You have done a fantastic job bringing her up.
I never got a chance to say goodbye to Jordan in person, and that has been a loose end I've wanted to tie up. So I thought I would just send you this email and if you feel it is appropriate, please let her know that she has and always will have a special place in my heart.
I wish you, Jordan, Jeff and your baby boy all the happiness in world.
From: Gillian <*******@yahoo.com>
Date: Fri, Feb 22, 2008 at 7:17 PM
Subject: RE: Loose Ends
Hi.
I did actually know you were separated. I'm sorry things didn't work out. Jordan was upset when she heard and she still talks about you a lot. Trust me, I know how special she is! :)
Thank you for saying I had anything to do with that; she's just a super special little thing. I definitely will tell her - actually I will show her this email so she will know. I can tell you in advance that she will be very happy to hear from you.
Thanks, and the best to you too. Onwards and upwards!
gillian
In the moment it took me to read her response, I experienced something which I have never experienced before - closure.
Closure is peaceful, kind, quiet and light. I am grateful for this gift that Gillian has given me.
I loved her as if she were my own. And she was very easy to love because she was just such an adorable and pleasant little girl.
So it broke my heart that I didn't get the chance to let her know even though things didn't work out between me and her father, I will always hold her in a special place in my heart.
The last time I saw Simon face to face was before Christmas (see post "Wreckage Part III"), and I had asked him what he had told Jordan about our separation. The answer of course, was nothing because Simon has no clue about reality, let alone child rearing.
I couldn't put my finger on why this has been bothering me so much, to the point where I was starting to obsess about it. A session with my therapist shed some much needed light on this subject. Did I mention how much I am loving therapy?
As I was explaining the situation to my therapist, I started to cry pretty hard about it. I don't think I've cried that hard in a session since just after having thrown Simon out. The last time I saw Jordan, I told her I'd see her again real soon. And then poof, I vanished and Simon did nothing to explain why.
I made the connection to my mother's death, and how I've had zero closure with that. The last time I saw my mother alive was probably about a week before she passed away. I remember crying really hard, not wanting to leave her. She hugged and kissed me and promised she'd see me again real soon. And then poof, she vanished. I wasn't allowed to go to the funeral (neither did my brothers). I never got to see her again to have a final goodbye.
I remember for years after her death thinking it was all a mistake. After all, she had promised she'd see me again real soon. And my mom would never lie to me.
I didn't want what happened to me to happen to Jordan. Obviously I'm not her mother. And obviously I'm not on her top 10 list of most important people. But she was a loving little girl who bonded to me very quickly and I just didn't want her to be confused.
My therapist asked me what it was I wanted to do to bring me some closure. I told her that I wanted to write to Gillian, Jordan's mother, and simply say that I would have liked to have said goodbye in person. Since the circumstances didn't allow for me to do that, I wanted Gillian to at least explain to Jordan that I am saying goodbye.
So with my therapist's blessing, I sent an email to Gillian. Here it is, with the response I received.
To: Gillian <*******@yahoo.com>
Date: Fri, Feb 22, 2008 at 5:21 PM
Subject: Loose Ends
Hi Gillian,
I'm not sure what Simon has told you, but he and I have been separated since July. I served him with divorce papers this past Monday. The whole thing should be finalized by the summer.
I wanted to let you know that I think of Jordan often. You have an amazing little girl who is so sweet and smart. You have done a fantastic job bringing her up.
I never got a chance to say goodbye to Jordan in person, and that has been a loose end I've wanted to tie up. So I thought I would just send you this email and if you feel it is appropriate, please let her know that she has and always will have a special place in my heart.
I wish you, Jordan, Jeff and your baby boy all the happiness in world.
From: Gillian <*******@yahoo.com>
Date: Fri, Feb 22, 2008 at 7:17 PM
Subject: RE: Loose Ends
Hi.
I did actually know you were separated. I'm sorry things didn't work out. Jordan was upset when she heard and she still talks about you a lot. Trust me, I know how special she is! :)
Thank you for saying I had anything to do with that; she's just a super special little thing. I definitely will tell her - actually I will show her this email so she will know. I can tell you in advance that she will be very happy to hear from you.
Thanks, and the best to you too. Onwards and upwards!
gillian
In the moment it took me to read her response, I experienced something which I have never experienced before - closure.
Closure is peaceful, kind, quiet and light. I am grateful for this gift that Gillian has given me.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
08-FD-336102 - Part I
I am really glad that I had my Divorce Twin with me when I filed for divorce. It was a weird and unorganized building, with weird and unorganized people. I know the government has a bad rep for being totally ass-backwards, but for some reason I thought that was just a misconception perpetuated by people for whom the system did not smile down in their favour. I was wrong. The whole damn place was a disaster and it's no wonder why people constantly curse how our tax dollars are being spent.
We came off the elevator onto the 10th floor of 393 University Ave. There weren't any clear labels as to where we were. Just a big bulletin board with a ton of paper tacked to it. We looked to the right, and then to the left, and then down to our forms to make sure we got the right floor. Yup, 10th floor. We decided to go to the left.
A big mess of cubicles with a bunch of people meandering aimlessly was the scene we were met with. DT and I looked at each other and were both thinking the same thing - there is no way THIS is an official courthouse. We went back into the hallway to see if we had missed something, like a worm hole to get us out of there. No such luck.
We went back into the maze and saw a sign that said we were to get a number, with an arrow pointing to the left. So we look to the left. And all we see are more messy cubicles with more confused people wandering around. There was nothing indicating where we were to get a number.
I finally noticed a sign that said "Information" hanging over a desk that was placed haphazardly in the middle of the messy cubicles and wandering people. There were several stanchions around the desk, but they weren't placed in a manner which indicated where the line was to form. So we stood at the end of the stanchions, where we believed the line was to start. There was a man already at the desk speaking with the attendant. So we waited.
The attendant behind the desk waved us over. "How can I help you?" I say, "We're here to file for divorce." He looked up at the both of us, with a quizzical look on his face. DT piped up with, "Not from each other!" The lady behind us started laughing her head off.
He took a look at our forms and told us we would need to make copies, and gave us each a number. He pointed us in the direction of the copy room. It turns out that the government charges you FIFTY CENTS PER PAGE to use their shitty old photocopiers. If the stupid website had said anything about needing an extra copy, I would have just made it at work for FREE. Geez.
After spending $5 between the two of us, we went back into the crazy room and took a seat. It wasn't too long before my number came up and I made my way over to one of the messy cubicles.
The lady there looked like a pleasant woman. She said hello and asked me what I was there for. I said, "I'm filing for divorce." Now, I don't know what I was expecting her response to be, as I'm sure she deals with thousands of filings a year. But I was expecting something. I'm a young, nice looking girl. I would think a simple "Oh I'm sorry to hear that" would have sufficed. But she said nothing.
She took my papers and started typing, typing, typing. She had a fan turned on, it was set up just behind her monitor. My papers kept getting caught up in the breeze. Type, type, paper blowing, catch, type, type, paper blowing, catch, type, type. It was amusing at first. I wondered how long she would continue to just let the papers blow away. Then it got annoying. What should have taken her maybe 5 minutes had turned into 10 minutes because she had to stop every 10 seconds to keep my papers from flying away.
I wanted to scream "JUST ANGLE THE FUCKING FAN TWO MILLIMETERS TO THE LEFT" but instead, I looked around at the chaos behind the cubicles. One word sums it up - PAPER. Piles of paper everywhere. I'm sure to the untrained, non governmental eye it looks like a mess. But to those who have pledged their lives to making our legal system the fine bureaucratic machine it is, I was in fact looking at the most advanced filing system on the planet. Yeah right. After the lady finished playing blow and catch with my paperwork, she wrote a case number on it, signed it, stamped it, sealed it and asked me for payment. It cost me $167 (GST included!) for all that nonsense. She told me to go back to the information desk to be given instructions on what the next steps are.
We came off the elevator onto the 10th floor of 393 University Ave. There weren't any clear labels as to where we were. Just a big bulletin board with a ton of paper tacked to it. We looked to the right, and then to the left, and then down to our forms to make sure we got the right floor. Yup, 10th floor. We decided to go to the left.
A big mess of cubicles with a bunch of people meandering aimlessly was the scene we were met with. DT and I looked at each other and were both thinking the same thing - there is no way THIS is an official courthouse. We went back into the hallway to see if we had missed something, like a worm hole to get us out of there. No such luck.
We went back into the maze and saw a sign that said we were to get a number, with an arrow pointing to the left. So we look to the left. And all we see are more messy cubicles with more confused people wandering around. There was nothing indicating where we were to get a number.
I finally noticed a sign that said "Information" hanging over a desk that was placed haphazardly in the middle of the messy cubicles and wandering people. There were several stanchions around the desk, but they weren't placed in a manner which indicated where the line was to form. So we stood at the end of the stanchions, where we believed the line was to start. There was a man already at the desk speaking with the attendant. So we waited.
The attendant behind the desk waved us over. "How can I help you?" I say, "We're here to file for divorce." He looked up at the both of us, with a quizzical look on his face. DT piped up with, "Not from each other!" The lady behind us started laughing her head off.
He took a look at our forms and told us we would need to make copies, and gave us each a number. He pointed us in the direction of the copy room. It turns out that the government charges you FIFTY CENTS PER PAGE to use their shitty old photocopiers. If the stupid website had said anything about needing an extra copy, I would have just made it at work for FREE. Geez.
After spending $5 between the two of us, we went back into the crazy room and took a seat. It wasn't too long before my number came up and I made my way over to one of the messy cubicles.
The lady there looked like a pleasant woman. She said hello and asked me what I was there for. I said, "I'm filing for divorce." Now, I don't know what I was expecting her response to be, as I'm sure she deals with thousands of filings a year. But I was expecting something. I'm a young, nice looking girl. I would think a simple "Oh I'm sorry to hear that" would have sufficed. But she said nothing.
She took my papers and started typing, typing, typing. She had a fan turned on, it was set up just behind her monitor. My papers kept getting caught up in the breeze. Type, type, paper blowing, catch, type, type, paper blowing, catch, type, type. It was amusing at first. I wondered how long she would continue to just let the papers blow away. Then it got annoying. What should have taken her maybe 5 minutes had turned into 10 minutes because she had to stop every 10 seconds to keep my papers from flying away.
I wanted to scream "JUST ANGLE THE FUCKING FAN TWO MILLIMETERS TO THE LEFT" but instead, I looked around at the chaos behind the cubicles. One word sums it up - PAPER. Piles of paper everywhere. I'm sure to the untrained, non governmental eye it looks like a mess. But to those who have pledged their lives to making our legal system the fine bureaucratic machine it is, I was in fact looking at the most advanced filing system on the planet. Yeah right. After the lady finished playing blow and catch with my paperwork, she wrote a case number on it, signed it, stamped it, sealed it and asked me for payment. It cost me $167 (GST included!) for all that nonsense. She told me to go back to the information desk to be given instructions on what the next steps are.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
File file file
So a few posts ago I had made the decision that I wasn't going to file for divorce. Well, I've changed my mind.
I kept reading that nasty little email Simon sent me for my birthday and the part where he said, "I'm still your husband so respect me" has raised more than a few alarm bells in my head.
I've dreamt about him every night this past week. In all of those dreams, he's come back to me and he's 100% normal. Also, I remember thinking to myself, thank goodness we got back together again and worked everything out.
I guess a small part of me still really hopes that someday he'll come knock on my door and tell me that he's changed, he's fixed it all, and he'll never abuse me again.
My DT is filing tomorrow and she's been encouraging me to do the same. When we talk on the phone, she'll randomly whisper "File, file, file" at the end of sentences. She's so hilarious - I thank my lucky stars I have a funny DT.
Today she called me to see if I could come with her to the court house tomorrow. (Of course) She slipped in another not-so-subliminal "File" message.
That, coupled with the stupid birthday email and crazy dreams, made me stop for a moment and really think about it again.
I was trying to get him to take responsibility for something in the marriage, hence leaving the divorce up to him. However the fact of the matter is, if he were the responsible type, we wouldn't be getting a divorce.
So folks, tomorrow is D-Day for me. Let the death of my marriage finally begin.
I kept reading that nasty little email Simon sent me for my birthday and the part where he said, "I'm still your husband so respect me" has raised more than a few alarm bells in my head.
I've dreamt about him every night this past week. In all of those dreams, he's come back to me and he's 100% normal. Also, I remember thinking to myself, thank goodness we got back together again and worked everything out.
I guess a small part of me still really hopes that someday he'll come knock on my door and tell me that he's changed, he's fixed it all, and he'll never abuse me again.
My DT is filing tomorrow and she's been encouraging me to do the same. When we talk on the phone, she'll randomly whisper "File, file, file" at the end of sentences. She's so hilarious - I thank my lucky stars I have a funny DT.
Today she called me to see if I could come with her to the court house tomorrow. (Of course) She slipped in another not-so-subliminal "File" message.
That, coupled with the stupid birthday email and crazy dreams, made me stop for a moment and really think about it again.
I was trying to get him to take responsibility for something in the marriage, hence leaving the divorce up to him. However the fact of the matter is, if he were the responsible type, we wouldn't be getting a divorce.
So folks, tomorrow is D-Day for me. Let the death of my marriage finally begin.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Done Over
My birthday party was a super duper SUCCESS!! Everything happened the way it should have happened 2 years ago.
I had 30 of my friends and family help me celebrate the end of a craptastic year, and the beginning of a bright and shiny new one.
Thank you to everyone who helped make this birthday a memory that will be treasured forever.
I had 30 of my friends and family help me celebrate the end of a craptastic year, and the beginning of a bright and shiny new one.
Thank you to everyone who helped make this birthday a memory that will be treasured forever.
Friday, February 08, 2008
WTF
This speaks for itself. A small mark on an otherwise perfectly lovely birthday. My apologies (always) for the grammatical horrors.
From: Simon <***********@gmail.com>
Date: Feb 8, 2008 6:01 PM
Subject: happy birthday
even though you like to put me down and bash me behind my back,im still the bigger person.
please take [down] those disgusting comments of me even if its true or not..thats not right..(THE BOWLING NIGHT EVENT)
im still your husband so respect me...ppl have asked me what happened and i just said it didnt work out..do you want me to say to ppl that you were a prude or disfuctional in relationships and bossy, and maybe a person that likes to be center of attention, just because she had a bad childhood.
no i wouldnt do that..actually quite often i think about you like today so dont be a bitch.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY...AND STOP BEING NASTY OK!!!!
THATS HALF THE REASON WHY I LEFT YOU!!!!
SO NO MORE BASHING ME PLZ...be an adult you are a year older act it.
From: Simon <***********@gmail.com>
Date: Feb 8, 2008 6:01 PM
Subject: happy birthday
even though you like to put me down and bash me behind my back,im still the bigger person.
please take [down] those disgusting comments of me even if its true or not..thats not right..(THE BOWLING NIGHT EVENT)
im still your husband so respect me...ppl have asked me what happened and i just said it didnt work out..do you want me to say to ppl that you were a prude or disfuctional in relationships and bossy, and maybe a person that likes to be center of attention, just because she had a bad childhood.
no i wouldnt do that..actually quite often i think about you like today so dont be a bitch.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY...AND STOP BEING NASTY OK!!!!
THATS HALF THE REASON WHY I LEFT YOU!!!!
SO NO MORE BASHING ME PLZ...be an adult you are a year older act it.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Rosie
This post has nothing to do with my marriage. However, it's exciting for me, so I thought I would share it with you all.
I am a devout Rosie O'Donnell fan. I have watched and read everything she has done. Including her now very famous blog at http://www.rosie.com/.
She has a feature called "Ask Ro", where you can submit one question daily. I of course have done this many times without any response. Usually someone else asks a similar question and gets answered, so I indirectly get an answer. Never my question, until TODAY! WHOO HOO. And a day before my birthday too. How cool is that?
Here's a picture of her blog's updated status:
I am a devout Rosie O'Donnell fan. I have watched and read everything she has done. Including her now very famous blog at http://www.rosie.com/.
She has a feature called "Ask Ro", where you can submit one question daily. I of course have done this many times without any response. Usually someone else asks a similar question and gets answered, so I indirectly get an answer. Never my question, until TODAY! WHOO HOO. And a day before my birthday too. How cool is that?
Here's a picture of her blog's updated status:
Here's a picture I saw of Rosie today:
And here's the question and answer about this picture:
Here's the permalink: http://www.rosie.com/blog/2008/02/07/ask-ro/ My question is the 12th one down from the top.
YAY!!
Monday, February 04, 2008
Labels
I am an email pack rat. Usually I just leave them in my inbox. I hate deleting them because I have found that more often than not, I need to reference an email. Sometimes even up to a few years after I received it.
Gmail has a bunch of handy features, my favourite being labels. Instead of creating folders to file away your emails, you just apply a label to it and then a single click will archive it. So anytime you need to find something, you just click on a label and it will pull up all the emails you've tagged. With Gmail labels, they exist as links on the left hand menu of your webmail view. I never thought twice about them until I started dating Simon.
He had this wicked habit of looking over my shoulder whenever I would check my Gmail, to see what had come into my inbox since the last time he snooped. He would ask a million insane questions and we would get into horrible fights. I started making sure to quickly slap a label on any new emails and then immediately archive, thus getting messages out of my inbox.
Then Simon noticed my label menu. Of course, that lead to him asking what the labels are for and to see the emails associated with each label. So I found a feature that could hide those too. So when he would look over my shoulder he saw nothing, no labels on the menu and nothing in my inbox.
We got into many screaming matches about my Gmail. He was convinced that I was hiding things from him since my inbox was always cleaned out and he couldn't see the labels anymore. He wanted full access to my email accounts. I was, and always will be adament about the fact that just because I was married to him, it didn't mean I had to give up my privacy.
It's taken me until now to bring back the label links on the side menu. The reason being that I was waiting for a package from Linens'N'Things. The tracking info was in an email which I had labelled and archived. It was getting annoying having to type the label into the search function every time I wanted to track my package. On the 28th time doing this, I remembered that I could just have my labels showing.
So I've turned them back on. And for the last week or so, I freak out when I log into my Gmail. I keep thinking that any moment, Simon will come around the corner, see my labels and start screaming at me.
I still have a long way to go to shake off the shackles of panic.
Gmail has a bunch of handy features, my favourite being labels. Instead of creating folders to file away your emails, you just apply a label to it and then a single click will archive it. So anytime you need to find something, you just click on a label and it will pull up all the emails you've tagged. With Gmail labels, they exist as links on the left hand menu of your webmail view. I never thought twice about them until I started dating Simon.
He had this wicked habit of looking over my shoulder whenever I would check my Gmail, to see what had come into my inbox since the last time he snooped. He would ask a million insane questions and we would get into horrible fights. I started making sure to quickly slap a label on any new emails and then immediately archive, thus getting messages out of my inbox.
Then Simon noticed my label menu. Of course, that lead to him asking what the labels are for and to see the emails associated with each label. So I found a feature that could hide those too. So when he would look over my shoulder he saw nothing, no labels on the menu and nothing in my inbox.
We got into many screaming matches about my Gmail. He was convinced that I was hiding things from him since my inbox was always cleaned out and he couldn't see the labels anymore. He wanted full access to my email accounts. I was, and always will be adament about the fact that just because I was married to him, it didn't mean I had to give up my privacy.
It's taken me until now to bring back the label links on the side menu. The reason being that I was waiting for a package from Linens'N'Things. The tracking info was in an email which I had labelled and archived. It was getting annoying having to type the label into the search function every time I wanted to track my package. On the 28th time doing this, I remembered that I could just have my labels showing.
So I've turned them back on. And for the last week or so, I freak out when I log into my Gmail. I keep thinking that any moment, Simon will come around the corner, see my labels and start screaming at me.
I still have a long way to go to shake off the shackles of panic.
Friday, February 01, 2008
Ancient Irony
A friend of mine did a Google search on my last name and sent me an excerpt of how my last name may have been derived from the name of a musical instrument at some point in its history. Which is cool as I'm a singer, and anything that connects me more to music is super awesome in my books.
The general meaning of my last name is to "shake hands in peace". I never even thought to look to see if there were any other meanings.
So I went to the link my friend had found and read up on where my last name may have originated. And much to my horror, I found this:
"...may also be derived from the Semitic (Arabic and Hebrew) 'sami' meaning 'to hear' and in fact the root word of the personal name Simon or Shimon."
Irony is an evil thing. I may have to go find this historian and hit him in the head with my separation agreement. :P
The general meaning of my last name is to "shake hands in peace". I never even thought to look to see if there were any other meanings.
So I went to the link my friend had found and read up on where my last name may have originated. And much to my horror, I found this:
"...may also be derived from the Semitic (Arabic and Hebrew) 'sami' meaning 'to hear' and in fact the root word of the personal name Simon or Shimon."
Irony is an evil thing. I may have to go find this historian and hit him in the head with my separation agreement. :P
Monday, January 21, 2008
Do Over
Of the many things that Simon ruined for me with his angry paranoid delusions, my 31st birthday was one of the most awful public displays of fuck-titude.
That birthday started with drama and ended in disaster. Simon was to have made reservations for my bowling birthday bash at the local bowling alley. He didn't quite get around to that teeny detail and when we showed up, only 5 pin lanes were available. So we headed upstairs to the 5 pin lanes and I tried calling all my expected guests to let them know of the change. I got a hold of most, but some I didn't. So I was constantly keeping an eye on the door to see if my friends had found the place.
Simon decided that I was in fact checking out some guy who happened to be standing by the door the entire time. He freaked out and started screaming at me in front of everyone. I burst into tears and sent everyone home. Happy effing birthday to me.
My 33rd birthday is coming up in a few weeks and I decided that I want to do over my 31st birthday. So I whipped up a Facebook invite and sent it to all my friends, which included the horrible story as to why I wanted a do over.
The one thing I didn't take into consideration is that my invite is public, and available to anyone on Facebook, including stupid ex-husbands who have nothing better to do than to troll around Facebook in the early morning hours doing searches on your name.
I got a message in my Facebook inbox this morning. Here it is, in all its grammatical dysfunction.
Subject: happy birthday( loser)
Date: Today at 5:35am
have fun at bowling....it was lame anyhow.....you just want attention...
grow up....
Hmmmm. Uh. Yeah. Can we say "restraining order coming soon"?
That birthday started with drama and ended in disaster. Simon was to have made reservations for my bowling birthday bash at the local bowling alley. He didn't quite get around to that teeny detail and when we showed up, only 5 pin lanes were available. So we headed upstairs to the 5 pin lanes and I tried calling all my expected guests to let them know of the change. I got a hold of most, but some I didn't. So I was constantly keeping an eye on the door to see if my friends had found the place.
Simon decided that I was in fact checking out some guy who happened to be standing by the door the entire time. He freaked out and started screaming at me in front of everyone. I burst into tears and sent everyone home. Happy effing birthday to me.
My 33rd birthday is coming up in a few weeks and I decided that I want to do over my 31st birthday. So I whipped up a Facebook invite and sent it to all my friends, which included the horrible story as to why I wanted a do over.
The one thing I didn't take into consideration is that my invite is public, and available to anyone on Facebook, including stupid ex-husbands who have nothing better to do than to troll around Facebook in the early morning hours doing searches on your name.
I got a message in my Facebook inbox this morning. Here it is, in all its grammatical dysfunction.
Subject: happy birthday( loser)
Date: Today at 5:35am
have fun at bowling....it was lame anyhow.....you just want attention...
grow up....
Hmmmm. Uh. Yeah. Can we say "restraining order coming soon"?
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Home Invasion
Over the last week, I've been having crazy nightmares about Simon. The general theme is him coming back into my life in some way.
Most of these dreams take place in the house I grew up in. I did a quick Google search and it turns out that when you dream about a house, it represents your soul.
Last night's dream was particularly crazy and weird. I was back at my old house and I was looking for the spare key to my car. I suddenly realized that Simon had somehow snagged it, and took the car out. He was sending me text messages telling me he'd be home soon.
I remember thinking that he was going to go ape shit when he got home. The reason I was so desperate to get my car was because I had plans the next day with my friend Ryan, and I was driving. Simon didn't know that Ryan and I had become so close. Simon would come home expecting that I take him to wherever it was I was going but of course, I would have to come clean about making plans without him.
He called me and told me he'd won a prize a karaoke and he was going to stay and drink some more. I was like fine, take your time. That would give me some time to come up with a way to distract him and get the key away from him.
He finally showed up and got out of the car. I tried to distract him long enough to get the key. It worked, I snagged it and hid it in my underwear. I noticed he'd gotten a bunch of tattoos on his arms, all bleeding heart type. He grabbed me and started to dance with me. I tried to wiggle free but I couldn't. He couldn't understand why I didn't want to be near him.
Eventually he let me go and wanted to go back to the car. I managed to sneak back into my house and started madly packing things. My brothers and some friends were in the living room now, playing Nintendo.
I ran up to my bedroom still searching, looking for something. I'm not really sure what it was. All I know is there was a sense of panic, I had to get out of there fast before Simon could figure out that we hadn't been together in the last 6 months and that I was moving on.
Then I woke up because snot was running down my face from a stupid cold I managed to catch this week.
I never took psychology in university, but this one seems pretty clear to me. I'm feeling anxious about Simon because he's been very quiet lately. The last time I heard from him was a text message at Christmas. I never responded. I guess I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. Hopefully it's in the form of him telling me he's found his new soul mate and wants to file for divorce.
Most of these dreams take place in the house I grew up in. I did a quick Google search and it turns out that when you dream about a house, it represents your soul.
Last night's dream was particularly crazy and weird. I was back at my old house and I was looking for the spare key to my car. I suddenly realized that Simon had somehow snagged it, and took the car out. He was sending me text messages telling me he'd be home soon.
I remember thinking that he was going to go ape shit when he got home. The reason I was so desperate to get my car was because I had plans the next day with my friend Ryan, and I was driving. Simon didn't know that Ryan and I had become so close. Simon would come home expecting that I take him to wherever it was I was going but of course, I would have to come clean about making plans without him.
He called me and told me he'd won a prize a karaoke and he was going to stay and drink some more. I was like fine, take your time. That would give me some time to come up with a way to distract him and get the key away from him.
He finally showed up and got out of the car. I tried to distract him long enough to get the key. It worked, I snagged it and hid it in my underwear. I noticed he'd gotten a bunch of tattoos on his arms, all bleeding heart type. He grabbed me and started to dance with me. I tried to wiggle free but I couldn't. He couldn't understand why I didn't want to be near him.
Eventually he let me go and wanted to go back to the car. I managed to sneak back into my house and started madly packing things. My brothers and some friends were in the living room now, playing Nintendo.
I ran up to my bedroom still searching, looking for something. I'm not really sure what it was. All I know is there was a sense of panic, I had to get out of there fast before Simon could figure out that we hadn't been together in the last 6 months and that I was moving on.
Then I woke up because snot was running down my face from a stupid cold I managed to catch this week.
I never took psychology in university, but this one seems pretty clear to me. I'm feeling anxious about Simon because he's been very quiet lately. The last time I heard from him was a text message at Christmas. I never responded. I guess I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. Hopefully it's in the form of him telling me he's found his new soul mate and wants to file for divorce.
Friday, January 18, 2008
The Ayes Have It
So my little poll closed with 100% of you voting that I should file for divorce.
My first reaction would be to fall to peer pressure. After all, you have an outside perspective. Which is usually a clearer, less emotional way of looking at things.
However, I had long discussion with my therapist and have concluded that I won't file for divorce.
Shock! Horror! Dismay!
I thank the 6 of you for your input - believe me, your click was not in vain.
The root of the issue was figuring out what was more important for me, having the marriage dissolved, or having Simon take responsibility for this disaster.
I explained my problem to my therapist, and even begged her to tell me what to do. She laughed and said she couldn't tell me what to do, but she could help me look at the pros and cons of the situation. So I told her everything I was feeling about why I should and shouldn't. And then she reiterated it back to me. It's always different hearing it come back from a person who has absolutely no emotional attachment to you. And as I listened to her telling me what I had just told her, the decision was suddenly so clear.
As I have said many times in the last 6 months, I will never sign a marriage license again. I will have another wedding, but when it comes to the part where we sit down and sign the marriage license, that will be very purposefully omitted from the programme.
For me, I have absolutely nothing to lose by not having the marriage legally dissolved. I have a signed separation agreement that is legal and binding. So as far as I'm concerned, it's done.
For Simon, I'm sure he will be looking to make some unlucky woman Wife #3. He will need more than a signed separation agreement to make that happen.
I understand that at some point I will have to deal with him again. He will need to contact me to get the marriage certificate, as that is required to file for divorce. But that will be a small price to pay to know that he will finally take responsibility in cleaning up the mess he made.
My first reaction would be to fall to peer pressure. After all, you have an outside perspective. Which is usually a clearer, less emotional way of looking at things.
However, I had long discussion with my therapist and have concluded that I won't file for divorce.
Shock! Horror! Dismay!
I thank the 6 of you for your input - believe me, your click was not in vain.
The root of the issue was figuring out what was more important for me, having the marriage dissolved, or having Simon take responsibility for this disaster.
I explained my problem to my therapist, and even begged her to tell me what to do. She laughed and said she couldn't tell me what to do, but she could help me look at the pros and cons of the situation. So I told her everything I was feeling about why I should and shouldn't. And then she reiterated it back to me. It's always different hearing it come back from a person who has absolutely no emotional attachment to you. And as I listened to her telling me what I had just told her, the decision was suddenly so clear.
As I have said many times in the last 6 months, I will never sign a marriage license again. I will have another wedding, but when it comes to the part where we sit down and sign the marriage license, that will be very purposefully omitted from the programme.
For me, I have absolutely nothing to lose by not having the marriage legally dissolved. I have a signed separation agreement that is legal and binding. So as far as I'm concerned, it's done.
For Simon, I'm sure he will be looking to make some unlucky woman Wife #3. He will need more than a signed separation agreement to make that happen.
I understand that at some point I will have to deal with him again. He will need to contact me to get the marriage certificate, as that is required to file for divorce. But that will be a small price to pay to know that he will finally take responsibility in cleaning up the mess he made.
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Un-anniversary
January 8, 2006: I walked down the aisle at a little chapel in Las Vegas.
January 8, 2008: I walked down the street in the rain in downtown Toronto.
Happy un-anniversary to me.
January 8, 2008: I walked down the street in the rain in downtown Toronto.
Happy un-anniversary to me.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Flirty Fun
I went dancing last night with 3 girlfriends, including my Divorce Twin. We hit a packed club, rocked the dance floor and ended up dancing the night away with a pack of hotties. It was two boys for every girl! I was the meat in a hottie sandwich. LOL.
My hips were bumped, my bum was grabbed and I even got a few kisses. I gave my phone number out to two different boys! Count 'em - TWO! I know they won't ever call, but the fact they asked me gave my ego a much needed boost.
Not once did I think about Simon. My DT was also happy to report that she didn't think once about her ex either.
I think this is it folks ... the turning point! :)
My hips were bumped, my bum was grabbed and I even got a few kisses. I gave my phone number out to two different boys! Count 'em - TWO! I know they won't ever call, but the fact they asked me gave my ego a much needed boost.
Not once did I think about Simon. My DT was also happy to report that she didn't think once about her ex either.
I think this is it folks ... the turning point! :)
Saturday, January 05, 2008
Spring Cleaning
I'm trying really hard to clear out the shit I've carried around with me for years. For starters, cleaning out my inbox from my professional website. I've been unable to sleep tonight, so I thought I should start sifting through 5 year old emails. I'm hanging on to a few of these emails, but deleting the rest as I migrate to a new hosting service.
These emails have brought up memories of people and situations that I haven't thought about in years. And I look at how frustrated and upset I was about those things back then.
I read an email I sent to an ex boyfriend of mine telling him exactly what I thought of him. I read an actual apology email from an asshole who stood me up repeatedly, sent about a year after the fact. I read an email about how a friend and I "broke up". And I read a few emails from a person I thought would always be a friend of mine but has slowly faded out of my life.
If I only knew then what I know now. Hindsight is truly 20/20. How evil of time to be linear like that.
Along with cleaning out old emails, I need to clean my bedroom. It looks like a cyclone hit it. Part of the reason is because I just don't have proper storage for clothing. I still have the same bedroom furniture from when I was 6 years old. It's one of the few tangible things I have left that my mother gave to me before she died. So over the years, I've thought a lot about getting new furniture, and then I get horribly guilty about throwing it out. I think that my mom would forgive me, now in my 30s, for getting furniture that would actually accommodate my adult size clothing.
I also need to get a new bed. Frame, mattress and box spring. I chucked out my frame to please my stupid ex husband. It too, was a relic from my 6 year old bedroom. But it was incredibly old and rickety and was ready to fall apart. As for my mattress and box spring, they are perfectly fine. However, I will never be able to share that bed with another man. So I need to get new ones and hopefully that will allow me to have rebound sex sometime in the near future.
Maybe that's why I can't sleep tonight - too much to clean out.
These emails have brought up memories of people and situations that I haven't thought about in years. And I look at how frustrated and upset I was about those things back then.
I read an email I sent to an ex boyfriend of mine telling him exactly what I thought of him. I read an actual apology email from an asshole who stood me up repeatedly, sent about a year after the fact. I read an email about how a friend and I "broke up". And I read a few emails from a person I thought would always be a friend of mine but has slowly faded out of my life.
If I only knew then what I know now. Hindsight is truly 20/20. How evil of time to be linear like that.
Along with cleaning out old emails, I need to clean my bedroom. It looks like a cyclone hit it. Part of the reason is because I just don't have proper storage for clothing. I still have the same bedroom furniture from when I was 6 years old. It's one of the few tangible things I have left that my mother gave to me before she died. So over the years, I've thought a lot about getting new furniture, and then I get horribly guilty about throwing it out. I think that my mom would forgive me, now in my 30s, for getting furniture that would actually accommodate my adult size clothing.
I also need to get a new bed. Frame, mattress and box spring. I chucked out my frame to please my stupid ex husband. It too, was a relic from my 6 year old bedroom. But it was incredibly old and rickety and was ready to fall apart. As for my mattress and box spring, they are perfectly fine. However, I will never be able to share that bed with another man. So I need to get new ones and hopefully that will allow me to have rebound sex sometime in the near future.
Maybe that's why I can't sleep tonight - too much to clean out.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
To file, or not to file?
Happy New Year folks! I think 2008 is gonna be GREAT! Well, it will be great once I get a divorce certificate from the Ontario Superior Court of Justice.
Next week I would have celebrated my second wedding anniversary. Instead, I will be a week away from being able to file for divorce. I can file at the 6 month mark, and it will be finalized within the next 6 months.
Looking back, I am still amazed that I've actually come this far. I've said it before, but I'll say it again. If it weren't for the anti-depressants and the time off work, I would have certainly killed myself.
So I have a dilemma now. Do I file, or do I wait for Simon to file? Let's look reasons for why I should file, versus why he should file.
Why I should file
- I won't be tied to him anymore
- I know it will be done accurately and in a timely manner
- I have the money to do it (roughly $500 in total to file)
Why he should file
- It will be the only responsible thing he's done in the entire marriage
- I want him to have to deal with the inconvenience of standing in line at the court house
- I paid for the trip to Vegas to get married, he should pay for the divorce
- It's his fucking fault we're separated
And here's one big reason why I shouldn't file - he won't be able to marry anyone else as long as he's still married to me. And if that saves one woman from suffering the misery that I suffered, I think it's worth it to sit on it and wait.
However, it is the new year and I want to do positive things for myself. I think filing for divorce would be a positive step. I've already listed my engagement ring on Ebay. I plan on using the money I get from the sale to go towards buying a nice 42" LCD TV.
I've added a poll to this page with regards to my dilemma. Feel free to add your two cents. I need all the help I can get with this one.
Next week I would have celebrated my second wedding anniversary. Instead, I will be a week away from being able to file for divorce. I can file at the 6 month mark, and it will be finalized within the next 6 months.
Looking back, I am still amazed that I've actually come this far. I've said it before, but I'll say it again. If it weren't for the anti-depressants and the time off work, I would have certainly killed myself.
So I have a dilemma now. Do I file, or do I wait for Simon to file? Let's look reasons for why I should file, versus why he should file.
Why I should file
- I won't be tied to him anymore
- I know it will be done accurately and in a timely manner
- I have the money to do it (roughly $500 in total to file)
Why he should file
- It will be the only responsible thing he's done in the entire marriage
- I want him to have to deal with the inconvenience of standing in line at the court house
- I paid for the trip to Vegas to get married, he should pay for the divorce
- It's his fucking fault we're separated
And here's one big reason why I shouldn't file - he won't be able to marry anyone else as long as he's still married to me. And if that saves one woman from suffering the misery that I suffered, I think it's worth it to sit on it and wait.
However, it is the new year and I want to do positive things for myself. I think filing for divorce would be a positive step. I've already listed my engagement ring on Ebay. I plan on using the money I get from the sale to go towards buying a nice 42" LCD TV.
I've added a poll to this page with regards to my dilemma. Feel free to add your two cents. I need all the help I can get with this one.
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