Finding Forty, Day 466; ADD

I've diagnosed myself as having adult ADD.   I'm not 100% sure, but man, it really seems like I have it.   The forefront symptoms are impulsivity and inattentiveness.  

Impulsivity continues to plague me.   I speak before I think, I act before I consider, I live my life in a constant state of regret and apology.    I truly, sincerely believe that there is something physiologically wrong with me.

My inattention has always been with me.  Daydreams plague me, occupying most of my waking thoughts. I am forgetful, distracted, disorganized beyond belief, despite my best efforts to stay on top of things.

I go to bed each night feeling disappointed with who I am, always pledging to do better the next day.  

This weekend has come to an end and I haven't done the work I brought home.  I will awake tomorrow and scramble into my classroom, doing my best to get things in better order for my students.  I have my plans done, my copies made, but there is still more I could and should have done.  

Constantly, I fight this urge to find and do something fun and exciting.   I feel like a child, wanting my whims and fancies to be met in an instant.

My logical, intelligent brain knows how absurd this sounds.   I get it.  Except I can't overcome it.

Not much has changed in my personal life.   I am living with A, but still pay for my empty, abandoned apartment each month.   We are good, but not great.    We live in the moment.   Nothing seems to really surprise us, move us, upset us, exalt us.  

S creeps into my thoughts on a daily basis.   While not overwhelmed with emotion, I still wonder about him.  

A is still unemployed.   He recently applied for jobs out of state.   While slightly shocked, there is a very small part of me that wonders what it would be like if he did, in fact, take a job multiple states away.  What effect would that have on our marriage?
 
I really can't imagine.

And besides, my attention span can't handle that thought.  There's too much other stuff in there already.

Finding Forty, Day 453; Down with Gravity

Gravity.  Brevity.  Reality.

Something has been pulling me down lately.   Possibly it's work and the new pressures of wanting and needing to perform better than I have in a long time.   Possibly it's the fatigue and mental stress of worrying about A not having a job yet.   Possibly it's just that no matter how I try, I can't shake certain aspects of who I am that simply just weigh me down.

I've had a couple of really hard weeks lately.   Weeks where there have been moments when I came thisclose to emailing S.  Luckily, in the moment of weakness, I was able to start madly texting my closest friends so that I could be pulled back from the abyss.

Gravity.

It's weighing me down.   I know if I venture too close, the laws of science will take me over the edge.

Why would I want to reach out to S?   I know it won't change anything at all.   Here are the only reasons I can figure out.

He was my escape.  When 'real life' got hard, it was comforting to have S to play with, to laugh with, to give me a break from the yuck of life.  

Even as I type this, I know I sound like an ass.  Everyone has a yucky life in some way or another.  Everyone wants to escape from time to time.

I guess the good thing is that before, I let myself be pulled under and now, at least, I know that isn't the answer either.

Another reason I am frustrated is because A still doesn't have a job.    I want to ask daily what, if any, progress he's made.   But I know that is ridiculous.  All that will do is create resentment.   And yet, at what point do I get to really voice my thoughts on his unemployment?   How long is long enough?  When will it be time to go out and get a job, any job, so that we can pay our bills?

The thing is, now I'm scared to talk to him about things.   I don't want animosity, I don't want arguing.  I don't think I have any tears left to cry.

I'm tired again and weary.    This gravity is pulling me down.

Finding Forty, Day 425 Crazy, Stupid Love.

The impending beginning of work is consuming me.  I've been working hours each day preparing my classroom, reading about best practices in teaching, spending money I don't really have to spend on materials and supplies to make this new job easier.   It's almost, exclusively, all I think about anymore.

In many ways, I'm happy to have a distraction, a new passion, a healthy outlet for my obsessive tendencies.   I'm still scared, though.   Prepping a room and your mind is vastly different than actually teaching, day in, day out.    And yes, I've done this before, but this time, I want to really, truly, get it right and feel great about what I'm doing more often than not.

During the evenings and on the weekends, when I can't be in the classroom, A and I have struck  up an old habit of ours, which is watching television or movies together.  This summer, we've probably seen more movies with one another than we ever have in our history.   When I was unhappy and searching for reasons to prove we were incompatible, I used to point out that watching t.v. was a 'pretend' togetherness.   Sitting in the dark, next to someone, wasn't really being together.   How wrong could I have been?

Each night, climbing into bed together, we lay side by side, sleeping.    If that's not being together, I'm not sure what is.  Sure, there is love making or pillow talk, but most of the time, it's two tired, haggard bodies sharing a space.   Nothing more, other than the togetherness of that.

I'm sure loved ones who hold a bedside vigil with a sick partner would argue the togetherness of such a seemingly solitary event.

I was wrong.

I love going to the movies with A.   Yesterday we saw Crazy, Stupid Love.   I knew it would make me cry.   The previews hinted at far too many familiar plot twists and story lines to leave my wretched heart alone.   And cry we did.   But I haven't had much of a chance to talk about it with him.   Or I've been too scared.

Even though we are moving on, there are some wounds that are still too fresh, too raw to pick at just yet.

It was enough to just curl into bed, with him reading beside me, close my eyes and drift off to sleep.

Finding Forty, Day 407: Today, This Day...

Yesterday I had an interesting email from a friend of mine on Facebook.   I really only know this person via my sister and we've met just once, but she is one of those people with whom you feel instantly comfortable.


She reached out to me, asking why I'd gone back to A, which I'm sure she'd figured out because of posts and status updates on Facebook.


It's hard to answer a question like that in a private message on a social networking site.   I'd have much preferred to sit with her over a cup of coffee and fill her in on the events that led to my change of heart.


But, as I typed my long winded response to her, I knew I believed every word.   It has taken me a long time to get to where I am today and although it's been messy and nasty at times, I feel it's been worthwhile.


Here is what I told her:

We separated in October after about a year and a half of crap. I had the affair in spring 2009 and even though it ended, I would not stop having contact with the guy (emails, phone, rarely in person as he lives near Dallas). I just was NOT trying in my marriage and could only find fault in everything A (my husband) did. I was miserable and wanted change. I wanted excitement and to feel alive. I wanted to be with someone who acted like they wanted me and cherished me.

Well, first mistake was thinking that an asshole who would cheat on his wife is the one who could give me all those things I needed. He was confused just like the rest of us, but also not willing to commit to me, my kids, and a long distance relationship.

I was devastated, heartbroken. I'd already ruined my marriage for this person.  A, as you can imagine was 1000x more heartbroken and upset than me. I broke him. There was no trust, no understanding, nothing. It was just a shell of a relationship, so eventually we split up.

We lived apart (and technically still do) for several months with little to no contact. It was wonderful, but also lonely and sad. I honestly thought I had moved on from A and had moved on from affair guy (b/c he'd not left me any other choice).

I had several dates with a guy I met on Match.com who was a super nice,  good guy (but quite boring and HORRIBLE in the sack).    I just knew, also, besides all that, that he wasn't right for me anyway.   It never felt right, being with him.

I had a week long fling with that 28 year old that was hitting on me the night I first met you when you were in town, but truthfully, he was an idiot. I don't do stupid well at all. :)

Then March came around and two things happened. 

First of all, I drank too much one night and contacted affair guy. I knew he was in town for something and I started calling him and texting. It got all Fatal Attraction and he ended up calling me a stalker. When I emailed to apologize a few days later, he accepted my apology, but said again, in no uncertain terms MOVE ON. It was if I heard it for the very first time and it sunk in.   Finally, there was nothing more to ever say to him.  I suppose it was the beginning of me hitting rock bottom, as they say.

A few weeks later, I landed, with a thud, definitely in the pits of despair.   I found myself in a situation where I felt alone, scared, sad and broken beyond belief.   Crying uncontrollably, I knew there was only one person I could reach out to.    And that person was A.

I texted and called him at 4 a.m. so he could talk me thought my crisis, which he did.  In that moment, something clicked and  I just knew that I'd never been loved by anyone quite like him.

Meeting secretly in a Wal Mart parking lot to make out, sneaking calls and text in stolen moments, intense physical attraction ( which I definitely had with the affair guy), that is all fun and exciting, but it doesn't equal love. 

Love is taking a call at 4 a.m. from a distraught sobbing friend.  It's getting up in the middle of the night to change your baby's diaper, or bringing your wife water while she nurses your newborn.   It's telling her she looks beautiful when her gray roots are showing and she's sporting a huge zit on her face-and actually meaning it.  It's eating Chinese when what you were really craving is Mexican or listening to the 100th story about some band from the 80's that you could care less about.   It's all those things and so very much more.  All those things A has been doing in my life for the past 23 years.

I finally opened my eyes to the gifts I had in my life and I didn't want to lose them.

Are things perfect now? No.

Does he still annoy me and not give me the attention I crave? Yes, some of the time.

But I have learned so much about how to ask for what I want and need.

And I have learned so much about how to give, readily and happily, to someone else.

As I said, we aren't officially back "together". I have an apartment still (although I haven't been there all summer, which is crazy, stupid financially), but until he asks me to move back in for real, I am fine with this.

We don't talk about forever anymore. We talk about today. And for today, this day, we are good.

And we are.

Finding Forty; Day 402; Blood Work

The doctor's office called with the results of my blood work.  Everything was fine.   How incredibly warped is it that I was slightly disappointed to hear that?  

Trust me, I'm not looking for something horrible or life threatening, but low iron counts or an under active thyroid, well, those were things I could have jumped on board with.

At least I would have had answers for why I feel so sluggish and exhausted all the time.

I recall, in the midst of the affair and it's aftermath, sort of wishing for the same thing.   I know that A wished that I could have been diagnosed with a personality disorder or something,  so that we could pin the blame for my erratic and unusual behavior on that.

In both cases, turns out, it's just me.

The same empathetic, caring, nurturing woman who cries at Hallmark commercials and dedicated her professional life to helping children is the same one who cheated on her husband and lied to the innocent faces of her friends and family.

The same healthy, vibrant,  body who birthed three boys naturally and has run a marathon and six half marathons can barely move these days without heaving and huffing and wanting to curl in bed for hours at a time.

There is no diagnosis or explanation for either that allows me to remove the spotlight from myself and my own actions.

But I'm not complaining.  I realize things won't always be this way.   Every day I try to do something to help myself physically.

I was diagnosed with vertigo and have my first appointment with a physical therapist on Monday.   Hopefully that will help improve my situation so I can move about again without fear of falling.

My knee is injured, but if one more week of therapy doesn't help then I will have minor surgery and move forward.

In many ways I miss the old me.   The nice one who enjoyed working out.   The happy one who liked to move her body.

In time, in time.  This I know.

Finding Forty, Day 400; Recipe for Success

When I was growing up, it seemed my mom had a limited rotation of dinners that she cooked.   You could almost predict which night would be tuna casserole, although she was never quite that structured.   We ate spaghetti and meat sauce (she always mixed the noodles with the meat sauce despite my pleas to leave each separate like at the Italian restaurants), chicken fried steak, salmon croquettes, hamburgers, and tuna casserole.

This isn't a blog about my mom's cooking.  She was actually excellent in the kitchen and I'd bet my life we ate a more varied diet than the above, but the rotation cycle definitely stands out to me now that I'm a mom.

I do the same in my own kitchen on a bi weekly basis.   My staples are tacos, grilled fish, fajitas, sushi, and brinner (breakfast for dinner).   Of course that's not all we eat, but in a pinch, I'm usually good for any of the above.

It occurred to me tonight that life is like the dinner rotation cycle.  Or at least mine is.  There are certain constants that creep into my reality, no matter how many times I plan or try to deviate from them.

Much like the presence of ground beef somehow showcasing a weekly dinner or two, I regularly spend time during the week in a very severe state of self loathing.   Even though I like to try ground turkey or the more exotic grass fed buffalo meat, I always settle on lean beef more times than not.   I don't want to hate on  myself or feel disgusted when I look in the mirror, but inevitably, at least once a day, I give myself a negative self talk that somehow seems to stick.   It grows weary, but is so well known.

Likewise, despite wanting to branch out and try new, exciting, scintillating recipes, I still find myself concocting what I know in the kitchen.   Same goes for my thinking of S.   It is as if I move forward, like a jet taking off an airplane runway, but then air traffic control calls me back in for an emergency landing.  I'm a passenger held hostage fighting feelings of fear and annoyance all at once.

Lately, the S thinking has been getting me down.   I used to think I would die, truly wither up and cease to exist, if he weren't in my life.   Now such thoughts make me laugh and flush with embarrassment all at once.   And yet, the thoughts of never speaking to him again or never seeing him again still pierce my heart and make me choke back tears.

On an intellectual level, I truly understand how wrong he was for me and how I sacrificed more of myself than was ever humanly necessary for him.   But the emotional level still has some sort of hold that, at times, tightens her grip and threatens to choke me silently.

I have no one to talk to about this.

I would never tell A that lingering thoughts persist or have resurfaced.   He is amazing and, in my estimation, trying harder to make us work.   I have crushed him once, twice, there is no way I could live with myself if I crushed him again.

And anyway, S doesn't give a shit about me.  I refuse to make an ass of myself any longer for someone like him.

It doesn't mean the feelings are gone, it just means I act on them in completely different ways now.

Routines.  So ingrained we hardly think about them.   Familiar favorites are nice, homey, welcome.  I doubt I'll ever deviate from the tried and true.   But I will also try new things, in a sincere effort to break free from the once new but eventually mundane habits that never were and never will be healthy.

There's a recipe for success out there and I'm determined to find it.

Finding Forty; Day 392; Letter to My Best Friend

In the days since I've last written, my life has been full of great and beautiful things.   Our road trip to Destin produced my children's laughter, stolen moments of aloneness with A,  crashing waves on sugar white sand, miles of new scenery, and time spent with the people I love most.   The vacation was many things...trying, tiring, amazing, worthwhile, but we created memories that will last a lifetime.


Now that I am home a sort of malaise has befallen me.   I think this email to my best friend says it best of all.

"Good morning!   I hope you found your bath to be both relaxing and meditative.   I truly hope it was.   I have not been in a really relaxed, contemplative state in quite a while.   Yes, I've had moments of peace and true relaxation, but in the past week or so something has happened.

I hate that it's so hard to pinpoint the source of my feelings or to even be able to articulate them.    First of all, I am exhausted.   I can barely move or do anything without feeling like I want to sleep for days.   It makes me apathetic about everything and minor chores or activities seem like climbing Mount Everest.  I'm dizzy all the time, anytime I move or shift my head or body positions.   Actually, it's vertigo because the room spins.   I just have to close my eyes and hold onto something until it passes.   Both of these have really bummed me out, so I find myself crying more this week about not feeling good.   I have a  dr. appointment tomorrow morning, so that should help some (or at least I hope it does).

Also, I have realized lately that my feelings have evened out.   In the beginning, when I realized I did want to be with A for the rest of my life,  I felt like this was a good thing and I still do see the merit of being level headed and not all over the place with my emotions, but I also almost feel numb.   That isn't like me and that bothers me too.    

I'm not sure if I've matured emotionally or if the sheer exhaustion of my past two years has finally caught up with me or if I have a genuine health condition that is causing this or what?

And it's the not knowing that possibly bugs me the most.

The fear is creeping in as well about our future.   Will A and I make it?  Do we have what it takes?  Is he really in this?  How much DOES he love me and want to be with me?  How much do I love him and want to be with him (a ton, btw, provided I get what I need in return)?   What will happen with our finances?  When will we declare personal bankruptcy?  What will I do with the apartment?  Will I move back in to the house?  What can we afford?  How will I pay my bills?   What if I am sick?  What about my new job?  How will that be?  Can I really do it and do it well?  

And so on and so on and so on.

On top of all of this are these random thoughts about S.   I just can't seem to make him get out of my mind permanently.   I realize he's gone and I've made no efforts to contact him and it's been 15 weeks (I'll stop counting someday, right?).   I'm better off and I know that, but I still do miss him in this unhealthy sort of way and there is no one in this world I could confess that to except you.   I just know you understand.

I know you aren't going through the same in terms of exact worries, but I know your heart and mind are heavy or at least I sense they are in some way.    What are we going to do?

I so wish you lived close.  If I knew we could get together after work and just laugh things off a bit, I think that would be priceless therapy.   Instead, lately, I've let my busy life and efforts to refocus on my family push you further out and that makes me sad.   I miss you too.

Please let me know how you are doing and what's going on.   And as always, thanks for letting me vent.

Can't wait to see you in August!!!"

I just know friends understand.