Archive | June 2011


  • a mental state characterized by a pessimistic sense of inadequacy and a despondent lack of activity


My husband says he is depressed.

Although he has hurled a truckload of accusations at me, he says that I have not caused his depression. He blames it on himself and his demons. He won’t disclose said demons. He won’t talk about his feelings.

And, he won’t leave the situation that apparently is causing his depression.

What a fucking pickle.

As you were.

Well, I sold a story.

It’s a break-up bondage piece that’s been accepted into Best Bondage Erotica 2012 edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel. It’s exciting news that came at just the right time as I really needed something different to be happening in my life right now.

Never in my life, would I have thought I’d be entangled in such a mess, but here I am, fighting to be free of it day after day, and every time I resign myself to not caring and/or ignoring this ridiculous, bullshit situation, there’s always something else.

I’m amazed that I’ve even been able to write, but I completed and submitted another story, Matters of the Heart, just yesterday, and today I’m working on a hotel erotica piece. It’s a distraction if nothing else, but just for a bit I’d like to not need the distraction. I want to rewind my life and pause it for a while.

My estranged hubby is part in, part out of my life, depending on which way the wind blows. I’ve made it crystal clear to him that he doesn’t have to be here at all, but he insists, all the while questing my loyalty and integrity. His opinion of me apparently lies solely in the hands of whoever has something to say about me, and that just shouldn’t be. And it occurred to me that while most men would fight to the death to defend their wife’s honor, my husband prefers to question me as if the lies are truth.

The shit is offensive, and it pisses me off.

I’m a problem solver, not a drama whore. If you’re not happy, then by all means, let me do whatever I can to help you get there. It doesn’t mean I’m a heartless bitch, it just means I kinda care about my sanity, and hell, yours, too.

But, I digress.

When the well runneth dry…

One of the questions I posed to my estranged husband was, quite simply, why he didn’t miss his water ’til his well ran dry.

It’s been a classic habit of his over the years, his never seeming to notice anything I do until I’m no longer doing it.

And as much as I hate to admit it, it’s clear that at some point he figured he was the only man who could ever be interested in me, or could give me what he was giving. Then he realized that wasn’t the case and became threatened. My dilemma now is trying to separate his wanting to be back with me with his not wanting me to be anywhere, with anyone, else.

I find that to be the case with a lot of men. They are possessive and protective of what they have at home, but doing nothing to nurture and preserve it.

One of the questions I’m continuously asking during our recent exchanges is: How do you plan to keep all this going – the attentiveness, the passion, the adoration?

All he can tell me is that he will.

And he might for a while. That is until he becomes comfortable again.

I had dinner out last night and I almost ordered another meal to bring to him, but I didn’t. It would have been too much, too soon and there would have been no lesson to be learned there. Only that he’s still deserving of these things when he’s done much of nothing to receive it and I just can’t go down that road quite yet.

I’m a loving, giving person by nature and I asked for next to nothing in return. I don’t want to change this about myself, but sometimes I wonder what the results would be if I were more selfish and bitchy.


Affairs of the Heart

Over the past two weeks, I’ve experienced a series of events that were at once devastating and surreal. I was so overwhelmed by everything that was happening around me (a horrible twister of bad luck, it seemed) that I could hardly talk about it, let alone put my thoughts and feelings into some semblance of a blog post.

However, if I wish to remain true to myself and to those who watch and root for me from afar, I really need to get this thing in perspective. So, grab your coffee and get comfortable. Here goes:

On the day before my birthday, my husband I split up.

We have/had our issues, but it was no major thing that contributed to the spontaneous combustion of our relationship. (Lack of) communication played a huge part, as I always knew that, eventually, it would. It was also our inability to resolve issues, simple or no, without becoming overly emotional and throwing up our hands.

And I can admit it now, we both threw up our hands.

He said he was leaving, and I didn’t ask him to stay, nor come back.

In my eyes, he had abandoned me.

My emotions ranged from relief to hurt to disappointment to grief. My marriage was over, my children’s father figure was gone and I was turning 34 and alone again.

I drank heavily every day. I didn’t sleep at night. I drifted aimlessly through my work days.

I contacted him and picked a fight.

And then, a few days later, I found myself being a part of a small town scandal that portrayed me as a modern day Marilyn Monroe.

It was crazy the way it happened. I ran into an old friend and we exchanged numbers. I didn’t give it a second thought til the next morning when his (WIFE!!!!) had called, FB’d me, found a way to contact my estranged husband and tell him that I broke up her marriage.

Of course, this broke his heart which led him to state that he wanted an immediate divorce, closure and the like.

I was torn up about it myself at first, until it all became so ridiculous that it couldn’t be anything more than humorous to me.

I broke up a marriage? Me?! Sorry, I don’t possess that type of power, and I will not own it.

I didn’t hear from my husband for a few days until he emailed me late one night. We debated via email for a couple of hours until I apparently said something that made him feel “so small” that he couldn’t say another word.

Unbeknownst to me, because I’m not a chaser, he changed his number.

I saw him at a club a few nights later. It was intentional, I’ll admit, and it broke him down.

He seemed to forget everything he was convinced I was and remembered who I had been.

Guess who’s all in Loveland now?

Guess who’s all talky-talky and attentive these days?

He wants to move away.

So do I.

We talked about doing it together later in the year.

But for now, I’m ringless.