“So I read your blog today about the email you got from [ex husband #2].”

I nodded, eating dinner.

“Yah, and I could just see you typing, describing him as ‘friendly and smart,’ but then hitting backspace backspace backspace and then going with ‘friendly and smart-ish.‘” He grinned at me, like he’d cracked the Enigma Machine.

I’m laughing around my pasta.

He laughs too. ‘Cuz we both know he’s right.

And I love the fact that he knows me so well.

Somehow, I received an email this morning from my most recent ex-husband. I say “somehow,” because the salutation was “Friends and family.”

I can assure you I am neither to him.

Anyway, the email wasn’t much of anything. It was a “hey! I’m switching jobs, here’s my contact info yadda yadda.” But the tone was all him, friendly and smart-ish.

I don’t miss him, not after what transpired.

It is amazing, though, how I experienced Lisa’s Three Types of Feelings, the ones I like to call “good, bad, or wierd” all in a rush. Just from a dinky little email that essentially meant nothing.

My goodness- we’ve had a bit of weather last night and today. It started to rain heavily last night at about 10:30pm and it hasn’t stopped since.

Yesterday was about 60 degrees and overcast. It was a nice change from snow and ice and such, but it’s still…odd. I ran around without a coat on. I considered going sockless under my Birkenstocks.

All of the snow that we received over the past couple of weeks is long gone, except for the huge gray mounds in the mall parking lots.

All this moisture is making the lawn green and the soil underneath awfully squishy. We have this awful clay based soil out here that holds moisture too well. The soil is super soft when wet and harder than concrete when dry. Poor Roxie is gonna sink up to her doggie knees, I’m sure of it.

Last night, the wind was whipping and howling. The rain fell in those big drops that smack against the windows with a thwack. I was glad to slip into bed with someone and feel safe and warm. Well, someone besides Miss Roxie, of course. A special human someone.

Image in this post is from here.
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Now playing: New Order – Ceremony
via FoxyTunes

My fella has fully moved into The House. With me. And Roxie.

We have two of a lot of things: coffeepots, pepper grinders, hair dryers, paper towel holders. The most hotly contested item has indeed been the paper towel holder for the kitchen. “Where shall we mount it? Can’t I leave the old one here? What if it doesn’t work here? Have I mentioned I am anti- patterned paper towels? I don’t need no stinkin’ cutesy sayings to wipe up dog barf.”

Oh yah. That’s a high class problem.

The House is once again filled with boxes and clutter. There’s more mismatched furniture too! Yay! We have another tv. My sweetie is kind of an A/V nut, so there’s electronics galore. Roxie has been carefully sniffing and investigating every container and item that she has come in contact with. I think she’s approving. Or looking for treats.

The biggest adjustment for me will be having another person in The House with me almost all the time that I am there. I had kinda gotten used to my solitude for a couple of nights a week. I’m wondering how I am going to feel about not having that anymore. Come to think of it, I’m guessing my fella might feel the same way. He’s lived in his own for a few more years than I have. Luckily, The House is big enough that we can retreat to separate areas if need be. I mean, I don’t want to subject the man to Project Runway unless absolutely necessary, right?

I will enjoy the companionship. There have been a lot of nights in the past year that I have been rattling around my homestead, wishing for some company Sure, a goodnight phone call is nice, but it certainly isn’t the same as cuddling on the couch.

I’m pretty surprised at myself. I didn’t think that I’d get to this point with anyone for a long time, if ever.

My fella and I are not fully living together quite yet. His stuff is at the house. And he himself is there frequently, but he’s not around 100% of the time.

After my divorce, I didn’t think that I would get to this point for a long time. You know, the point where you let your guard down on your emotional and physical space. I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to let anybody in for a long time, if ever.

Now, when I wake up in the morning, I feel “his” side of the bed before I open my eyes.

I don’t like it when he isn’t there.

We hosted my sweetie’s son over at the New House this weekend

This was no mean feat.

After all that had gone on this spring (namely, by alcoholic sweetie falling off the wagon), his ex was considerably wary of letting him have time alone with his son. I can understand, certainly. The Little Guy is her only child, her pride and joy, and even though I’m not a Mom…I can empathize how hard it must be for her to trust J.

On the other hand, as someone whose Dad totally dropped the ball, I can’t help thinking that The Ex doesn’t know how good she has it. J has been as good as possible with his financial responsibilities, and tries like hell to be a part of the Little Guy’s life. I can’t tell you how many women I’ve come in contact with that wish the fathers of their kids would actually..oh…I don’t know…give a shit.

Ok, done with the rant-ola.

I was really, really nervous about the Little Guy spending the night. I wanted everything to be fun and OK, you know? I wanted to be just the right part of helpful, but yet a bit removed so J could have as much time with the Little Guy as possible. I had forgotten that J’s son is an awesome kid. He’s well adjusted, and adores his dad.

The two guys had fun at the Mexican restaurant where we ate dinner, and then retired to the spare room to put together a telescope. We all took turns looking at the Moon. It. Was. AMAZING. I love the moon anyway, but to see its craters in real time was a blast.

There was ice cream and Operation and omelets and silly stories (don’t poop at Pizza Hut!). I had a great time, and I think the men in my life did too.

But damn, kids are tiring. Who knew?

Tonight, my sweetie’s son is coming over to spend the night at the New House with us. I am excited and little nervous. I get sort of uncomfortable around most children. I’m not sure if it’s because I have none of my own, or if I am just not in touch with my own inner child.

I suppose my therapist will have to sort that one out. Or not.

Luckily, this little guy doesn’t make me antsy. He is a sweet young man. He has a gentle kindness about him that’s really impressive. And, he loves his Daddy. Very much. They still snuggle and cuddle together even though the little man is 9. I’m guessing it won’t be too long before that’s over, and then he’ll be a surly teenager…but right now he’s a delight.

I’m hoping everything goes well.

So, I went to the head shrinker yesterday. She was the MSW whom I saw a couple of years ago when my marriage imploded.

I brought all my intake paperwork with me. Even though I’d been treated before, the therapist needed to start a new folder on me. For those who have never sought therapy before, mental health intake paperwork is a huge questionnaire about, well, yourself. There are medical questions, drug and alcohol questions, and “issues” questions. I was really glad to get all that filled out ahead of time. Otherwise, you have to go an hour early and plow through it. Bleah.

Anyhoo, we spent a fair amount of time going through the paperwork. I also refreshed her memory about what we’d spoken about before. I told her about the symptoms I was currently experiencing, and how I had been taking my meds unsupervised for a little too long. Her response:

“You need a psych consult.”

I must have looked aghast, (holy cow, am I that nuts? that sounds awful!) because she then said,

“Lisa, you just need to meet with our psychiatrists so they can get your meds in order. I think seeing me for some talking now and then couldn’t hurt, but I’m going to leave that up to you. But, you are definitely suffering from some depressive symptoms that should be alleviated with medication.”

Oh, OK then. I walked out with a referral and a little peace of mind.

I called my beloved and checked in: “Hey honey, I’m done with my appointment and I’m headed back to work.” to which, he lovingly replied:

“Hey! They let you back out on the streets! Couldn’t have been too bad of a diagnosis.”

Yes indeed, he loves me.

Yesterday, my sweetie went to The House with his Mom and his son. He gave them the 50-cent tour of the digs. Dang, I wish I had been there! However, I had to work, you know, to pay for the mortgage and the as yet unpurchased washing machine.

I couldn’t wait to hear how the visit went. I called my sweetie from the car on the way home, which I try not to do (usually). He said that The House got a HUGE thumbs up. I made sure that he had told his son that there was a place for him to come and stay and visit, because that was very, very important to me. My sweetie’s mom fell in love with the three-season porch. All in all, the house totally passed muster.

I can’t wait until I am moved in and able to entertain folks. I’m looking forward to having my sweetie and his son stay over on the weekend. I want to have potluck dinners and themed parties and and and….

Image in this post is from here.

I don’t “do” conflict well.

A lot of it comes from my parents. They never fought, or even really had interactions, in front of me, or within my earshot. I never really had that activity modeled for me. A lot of it comes from me. I have written before about how I can get overwhelmed with strong emotions and then just clam up. The official term for it is “emotional flooding.” I just have no idea how to react to the swell of feelings, and I shut down. I want to react, but I can’t.

My sweetie and I are in the middle of a disagreement about something. He asked me to do something, and I agreed to do it. I had misgivings about agreeing. I thought that I could get past them, but found that I couldn’t. So, I told him that I had to renege on my commitment.

Needless to say, he was not happy about this. I thought he’d be disappointed and angry, and he was. And he told me so. I also told him that I was sorry, but I just didn’t want to do what he’d asked. I didn’t feel good about it. I thought it was a lot to ask. I also told him that the alternative to my saying no was for me to do something I didn’t want to do, and risk being resentful and stressed out about it. I really didn’t like that option much.

We sort of ended last night’s conversation in a stalemate. I was numb. Then all of a sudden, I was upset, and was about to cry. I told him that I couldn’t talk to him anymore, and hung up the phone. I cried and cried, but not about anything in particular, and not even really about what we were disagreeing about.

I turned off my cell phone (I have no landline- it is my phone) so that I could get some sleep. When I turned the phone on this morning, I had two messages from my sweetie wanting to talk. It’s 11:17am, and I can’t figure out if I want to talk to him yet. I don’t know what to say. Part of me wants to make it better somehow. Part of me is sad and angry. I’m a mishmashymess.

I wish that I had some experience to draw from. I’m not used to standing my ground on something. I usually roll over and say “OK” to my partners to avoid conflict. That’s not healthy either. I’ve ended up doing things that I haven’t wanted to more times than I can count. I’m especially angry that I am learning these lessons at the ripe old age of 35. I feel like I should have gotten this down before.

Image in this post is from here.