I was doing something mundane like folding clothes or making the bed when my cell phone rang.
It was my brother.
“Hey. Mom thinks Dad’s had a stroke.”
“What?”
No.
My call waiting beeped, distorting his response.
It was my husband.
Hell no.
strange
Things were getting really bizarre between me and my husband.
He kept committing random acts of strange.
He would call me and ask how I was doing, I would say “fine” and then when I asked how he was doing he’d say the same thing. Then sometimes he would just stop talking.
Just sit on the phone, like he was waiting for me to say something.
My therapist advised me to keep quiet and just let him say whatever was on his mind.
Posted by storm on November 7, 2012
https://theburnpile.com/2012/11/07/strange/
therapy
“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
https://theburnpile.com/2012/10/10/therapy/
ghost
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.
Huh.
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
https://theburnpile.com/2012/08/31/ghost/
conflict
“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
https://theburnpile.com/2012/07/19/conflict/
confusion
It wasn’t long after the holidays, when our “separation” took effect. It wasn’t legal, just physical and I had been holding out for the counseling sessions that we’d agreed to. It was winter and I remember the cold clearly because I could still see my breath in the air, even at night.
I was walking up the block, on my way home from work one day when I stopped dead at my front gate.
He’s here. I thought to myself.
My heart sank a little. He’d barely been out of the house three weeks.
why.was.he.here?
Posted by storm on July 17, 2012
https://theburnpile.com/2012/07/17/confusion/
choices
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
https://theburnpile.com/2012/06/12/choices/
amnesia
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
https://theburnpile.com/2012/05/05/amnesia/
cancel christmas
I wake up the morning before Christmas in a full on panic.
Not about the holiday itself mind you.
Years ago my brothers and I stopped exchanging gifts because of the sheer angst and fights the event would cause.
Nope. My fear is entirely based on one frightening thought.
What if he doesn’t leave?
Now that I’ve gotten on the separation train, I’ve been impatiently waiting for it to leave the station.
But the doors are closing, and he’s still not on board.
Funny thing is. He bought the tickets!
So I do what I always do when I’m stressed or a little confused.
I make a list.
Posted by storm on April 15, 2012
https://theburnpile.com/2012/04/15/cancel-christmas-2/
leave
“I’m not asking you to take everything that you own, just maybe take 2 large suitcases and your computer and your drives and your shoes and…”
“All right, all right. Stop.”
“Ok. Ok.”
I had both of my palms up facing him in the universal body language for ‘no offense, calm down.’
I’ve swung to other end of the spectrum.
Now I can’t get him out of the house fast enough.
The dance continued until the week before Christmas when my mother had asked for the 10th time whether or not we were coming or not and could we bring our own food, since we don’t eat turkey and she has no idea what to make for us and my brother brought a gallon of soy eggnog for us and we had better be coming because Daddy’s not going to drink it.
So thoughtful, my brother.
Posted by storm on April 13, 2012
https://theburnpile.com/2012/04/13/leave-2/
quotes
theburnpile 