“You seem angry.”
I like my therapist. I started going to him not long after my husband moved out and he even reduced his rate a bit to see me. He never pushes me too hard, or blames everything on my childhood. (I hate that).
And he seems to abhor Dr. Phil as much as I do.
But right now I feel like punching the shit out of him.
“Wow Doc, is that your professional opinion?”
I look out the window and chew on my bottom lip before I have to see him smirk.
I hate when he does that.
Posted by storm on October 10, 2012
After the incident at the house, my husband apologized for upsetting me.
In a text message.
He stated that he could see by how upset I was that I was obviously hurting as much as he was.
The mask might be working too well.
He suggested that if it made me feel more comfortable, he could let me know when he needed to stop by the house.
I suggested that he not come by the house at all.
That went over about as well as can be expected.
Posted by storm on August 31, 2012
“Well, I see that you don’t want me here, so I’ll go. Do you mind if I leave the equipment? ”
What?! No you can’t leave it here!
(My inner voice was getting angry).
“…I can come back early in the morning and get it.” he said.
WTF IS HE SMOKING? HE DON’T LIVE HERE ANYMORE!
(Why does my inner voice suddenly sound like Afro Samurai’s alter ego Ninja?).
Posted by storm on July 19, 2012
I think the thing I always attempt to do when in the middle of a crisis is assess the situation as objectively as possible. After the initial shock dies down, I tend to sitrep the events in my head (and sometimes on paper) to start looking at the “truths” of a situation at any given moment.
Not the emotions. Just the facts:
- I was now living in my house alone, (save for the tenants).
- I was physically, (but not legally) separated from my husband.
- I was working a steady freelance gig that paid my rate.
- I had new tenants.
- I had to wash the dishes.
- I had to get the clothes out of the dryer.
- I had just fed the cats.
But how did I get here?
Posted by storm on June 12, 2012
I haven’t updated in awhile, because honestly, I’m having a hard time remembering what happened to me after my husband moved out and I came back home after Christmas.
It’s like I’ve blocked it out or something.
I don’t remember driving back to New York, but I know I did, because I was booked on a pretty hectic job that week.
I have no recollection of talking to my tenants, but I know I did, because they’d just moved in.
I seem to remember random mundane tasks:
Taking out the trash.
A warm, floppy hat he gave me last winter that I liked to wear.
My favorite pair of fingerless gloves.
The way my youngest cat had taken to finding the most expensive garment I own (cashmere, silk, etc.) and dragging it around the house in some sort of silent defiant protest whenever I worked late.
Posted by storm on May 5, 2012
After weeks of going back and forth, we were living like boyfriend and girlfriend as opposed to husband and wife.
Oh wait, no. Boyfriends and girlfriends have sex don’t they?
So yeah no.
We were like roommates who happened to share a bed.
He would do small things for me, like paint things, but not pay any bills or make any commitments.
Although he’d asked for the separation…
In fact, most days, he would act as if nothing was wrong at all.
It was weird. He was still going to his part-time job, (I think.) Still working on his various creative projects. Acting like nothing was wrong to his family and friends.
He was still coming home every night.
He seemed to be completely ignoring the big-ass neon sign that was now hanging over his head like a mutant SIMS plumbob that read:
THIS MAN IS LEAVING YOU.
Posted by storm on April 12, 2012
He didn’t leave.
Not that day, not that week.
He didn’t even pack.
I wasn’t even sure where the suitcases were.
Are they in the basement or in storage with the summer clothes? Should I offer him one of mine? How does this work?
He was calmly going about his days as if nothing had happened.
And I was slowly going crazy.
I looked up the definition of separation in my computer’s dictionary just to see if somehow Webster had been brought back to life and had decreed that the word actually deemed a new meaning. Maybe there had been a moratorium on the subject and I missed out. Which is why I hadn’t been informed of the fact that the meaning of separation in the english language had now been rescinded, and the new meaning actually was synonymous with change-nothing-in-fact-feign-amnesia-and-act-as-if-nothing-is-wrong-and-maybe-she-won’t-notice.
Posted by storm on April 6, 2012