Stardate -311529.0685248606

Okay, first of all, the fact that there is something on the internet that actually calculates the stardate is wackadoo. Not surprised, as I’m sure the internet is run by Trekkies, but still. I’m a nerd and even that made me go “daaaaamn.”

I’ll be using my blog today for journalistic purposes. The mind is full of clutter, and I’ve been in the cleaning mood lately, so time to make way for new thoughts. My brain must loathe and adore me all at the same time. The feeling is mutual, brain.

What’s new with me? Well, not really a whole lot, I suppose. Same shit, different day. To paraphrase Dory in “Finding Nemo”: just keepin’ swimmin’. Alright, alright, alright. (that was my Matthew McGigglepantsapotamus impression)

I have been thinking quite a lot about a few things, some I will share, some I will keep locked in the confines of my grey matter, as well, some skeletons need to be kept in the closet. It builds character and intrigue.

I’ve been in and out of a weird limbo since March. Why March? Well, March 8th was supposed to be Jason and I’s 8 year wedding anniversary. It wasn’t fun, being reminded of a failed marriage. As in, “hey, eight years ago today, you made vows to remain faithful, to love, honor, and cherish another human being until death parted you.” This is where reading the fine print could have come in handy: “or until both of you grow far apart, begin leading separate lives, and ultimately cheat on each other.” Such is life, I guess.

March was also when I began hanging around…Ray.

I hate to say his name. I hate to type his name. You know in the movie “Young Frankenstein” whenever someone would say Frau Blucher’s name and horses would neigh? Kind of the same deal with me and the “R Word,” but I envision all the worst plagues of the Bible happening at once.

I digress.

Anyway, as I said above, in a weird limbo-ish state since March, and it’s only getting worse. Why? July 12 approaches. July 12 is The Day.

I am not looking forward to July 12. In fact, if we can kind of skip the 12th this year, that’d be all sorts of neat.

I know, I know, it’s not healthy to try to repress bad memories, for only when we confront them, can we learn from them, but dude, still.

I’ve been replaying that day over and over in my mind for two weeks now. I’ve been drinking more these past weeks, as well. I am fully aware of why I am doing this, and realize it’s a self-destructive path, blah blah blah, my therapy paid off, but as long as I’m fully cognizant of said behaviors, I think I’m okay. Just “acting out,” so to speak. Which is better? Being aware of your actions and what is causing them, or being in denial and saying nothing is wrong? Hmm? So while my mom is surely gone into super maternal mode right now, and will probably send me a concerned email (thanks, Mom), she shouldn’t worry. As the saying goes, “this too, shall pass.” And it will. I just need to dive into all these negative feelings, all the bad juju, and then poof. Over and done with. On to my next crisis, which lucky for me, isn’t until August, when I begin thinking about my stunt in the looney bin and alcohol rehab.

Heh. I’m planning my meltdowns. How proactive of me.

Then there’s the stuff I wont talk about. Sorry, but I won’t.

Thinking of moving. I always think about moving, though. I m also a chicken shit, and all talk, but no action. I hate that about myself. Jason’s complacency has rubbed off on me. Not cool. I know I need a change, but keep finding excuses to not go forward. Not enough money, it isn’t the right time, etc. All cop-outs, if you ask me. I don’t know when I became a coward, but I need to find me some courage real quick.

As I mentioned before, this July 12 business has gotten me all worked up and I’m finding it very hard to be excited about my approaching thirtieth birthday. Like, big deal. Another year. Weeeee. I should be excited for it. Thirty! Three decades! I made it! Go E!

Blah. Harumph.

Alright. I’m done now.

Night, friends.

No Fault

Nebraska is a No Fault divorce state, meaning, hey, you don’t wanna be legally bound to your significant other? No prob, Bob. irreconcilable differences. Boom. Divorced.

I find it ironic that it is called “no fault.” It’s SOMEONES fault. His, mine, ours…

I made this appointment to visit with the lawyer last week, and at the time, I was more than ready to get the figurative ball a-rollin’. It’s nearly been a year since Jason and I separated, and we’ve been in this are we/aren’t we limbo. It was time to make a decision, to start the process, and I made the first leap. Super scary, by the by. It’s like pounding the final nail into that marriage coffin. Once that puppy is in there, it’s in there.

Again, I was fine with making this move; welcomed it, actually. Let the moving on commence. Time is doing a fairly decent job of healing the wounds. Except the events of the past week have kind of thrown me off a bit.

I went on my first date in eleven years. It went well, and I had a great time, but on my way home from the date, I was struck by how often during the date I was thinking of Jason. Not in a romantic way by any means, more of a “I can’t believe this guy isn’t Jason” way. I took this as a sign I am not yet ready to see anyone. It is unfair to me, and unfair to the gentleman caller, as well. When will I be ready? Who fucking knows. It took me almost a goddamned year to make the Big D meeting with a lawyer.

Then, today while at work before leaving for the meeting, I was overcome by a feeling of sadness over the whole situation, and I started crying. As I said before, this is it. This is the last call. All sales final, friend. But the meeting went well, questions were answered, and it’s going to be a very straightforward divorce. No kids, no property, no shared debt–with a quick pen stroke, signatures is really all it takes. Again, irony alert: you say “I do” when you get married, and you say “I do” when you get divorced, as well. Huh.

I still love Jason. Again, not in a “take me back!” way, but you can’t spend one third of your life with someone and not still have an emotional attachment to them, unless they were a total horror to live with and you would give anything to sever all ties with them. This is not our case. Jason is one of few people who understands the inner workings of my brain, gets my stupid jokes, and isn’t afraid to laugh at me. I value our relationship; he taught me many things, and I’ll always hold a special place in my heart for the guy. I hope we can continue being friends after all this is said and done. That was actually one of our stipulations when we decided to end it: no matter what, we’ll be friends. I know that’s a bit of a tall order to fill, considering all the bullshit we put each other through, but the fact we are still friends proves our …maturity? Wow…never thought I’d utter THAT word when both of us were concerned. Damn. I almost started laughing when I wrote that. But you get what I mean. We hold no grudges against each other, we just reached that point in any relationship when we realized we aren’t good for each other any more. No shame in that, friends. While I wouldn’t wish the divorce process on anyone, I wish more people had the good sense to recognize when things aren’t working out and perhaps a split is the best option.

So, that’s my two cents on this. To dissolution of marriage!