When Silence Isn't Golden

Usually in this house, I'm the one giving the silent treatment. Today, that is not the case. "A" is giving ME the silent treatment. The odd thing is, regardless of how much I want him gone or how much I want this to be over, I don't like the way this feels. It probably has to do with the fact that I'm an approval junkie.

A lot of things don't feel so great these days... like the way I feel when he tells me he loves me -- emphatically, followed by the "you DO know that, don't you?" question -- for which he actually expects an answer. I almost feel like I'm being bullied into accepting that I'm a schmuck for not wanting to be married to him.

Let me back up though... because when last I typed, I'm sure everyone thought this would all be over soon. The Monday after I posted, "A's" company announced impending lay-offs. They said they'd be announcing the list of unlucky souls on September 29th. I just couldn't bring myself to tell him to move out in the midst of this uncertainty -- I'm not THAT mean. So, we waited. Last week, another e-mail came from human resources telling them that the decision had been delayed by a week (to this coming Friday, October 3rd)... and so into limbo we went.

The reason for the silent treatment, you might ask? It's complicated, but I'll do my best to take you down the emotional super-highway I've traveled these past few days:

On Friday I found out that I have a disease that could cause my hands to become deformed and have a significant effect on my digital dexterity. Since I've played piano for 35 years, this was upsetting news. The surgeon I saw told me that it was treatable and not to worry... but you all know me well enough to know that I came home and started researching on my own and what I found wasn't quite as simple as he made it sound. Depending on the severity or the grade of this disease that I have, I could end up having multiple surgeries over my life time and, if it's severe, could lose the full use of some of my fingers. Other possible outcomes include nerve damage and, at worst, amputation. Disfigured, gnarled hands filled with zig-zagged scars... yeah - there's a rosy outlook for someone whose greatest solace is sitting down to play a Beethoven Sonata.

So, in the midst of all of this, I get accused of being snippy to him and reminded of how sensitive he is (see above reference to being bullied). First of all, the man SHOULD have learned by now that when I get bad news you need to leave me the hell alone for a few days until I come to terms with it. AND he should have learned that when I go in to my music room and put on the headphones it's like putting a "KEEP OUT" sign in the doorway. When I start playing Beethoven, then everyone should clear the house because that means that I'm in a deep, dark funk. Really -- after nine years he hasn't figured this shit out?

All right... so I apologized for being snippy, teared up and had to work really hard not to end up on the floor in a puddle. (Did I mention that I had PMS too?) We move on to dinner time. He decides to make his "famous" hamburgers -- filled with Turkish spices. I'm in charge of the fries (or the bakes, in our case). We sit down to dinner and I have like two bites of my burger (which was gross, by the way -- why ruin good ground beef with all of that crap?) when he sees a commercial about a dad building a jungle gym for his son... he says, "I wish I had a child to do things like that for." In my state of emotional fragility, I earnestly ask him not to go there right now... Did he listen? NO. The SOB has the audacity to ask me if I would consider a surrogate so that he can have his own biological child. I'm not certain how many neighbors heard my response. It wasn't a nice one... I told him to go find some Turkish whore and make his f'ing baby and then stormed off to my office. Am I proud of that? No. Did I warn him in advance? Yes.

I came within an nth of telling him to pack up his shit and get out last night, but I knew I would end up sounding like a screeching fish wife and that I might end up being committed to an asylum instead.

All I can say is that I pray for a calm week at work. I pity the fool who gets in my face THIS week.

Technical Malfunction

I had this plan... I was going to download a separation agreement, fill it out and hand it to "A" -- only thing is, the program kept crashing every time I clicked on the document I PAID FOR!!! How annoying!

I have prepared a 60 day notice to vacate and (hopefully when the IT guys call me back), will have a stipulation agreement we can both sign so we can finally move on with our lives.

I just want it over with.

Dreams of Flying

Last night I had the most magnificent dream. I dreampt that I went to see a faith healer or wise woman. She laid hands on me, rebuked me for my negative thoughts and the next thing I knew, I was flying around the room - experiencing sheer joy and blissful abandon. It was a wonderful dream.

I wonder if I wish for another tonight if the Universe would oblige?

It's too much...

I am in a personal crisis. I am overwhelmed by the enormity of the events that face me: selling the house (which includes a plethora of details - things that need to be fixed or cleaned or de-cluttered), buying a new one... oh yeah, and a divorce. Today, I can't stop the tears and I'm paralyzed by the sheer magnitude of the mountain in front of me.

The sad part is that I've spent so much time at work and with online communities that there's no one IRL that I can call.

What am I supposed to do now?

Boxers, to your corners...

Less than two hours after arriving home from a l - o - n - g week, we have gone to our separate corners: him to his office, me to mine. We made it through dinner, about 15 minutes of a violent, bloody movie (to which I put a stop) and about five minutes of the McNeil Lehrer hour before the fit hit the shan. He went on a tirade over some story about the middle class and I said, "I don't know why I even bother to come home" and walked away. He tried to coax me back, but the thought pouring through my mind tumbled from my lips: "No, I don't enjoy your company."

I guess that's that, huh?

Courage

This morning I'm reminded of the Serenity Prayer:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.

I'm stuck on the middle one this weekend. I know I need to have the talk, but instead, I'm burying myself in housework -- a legitimate endeavor -- but an act of avoidance in this instance. I'm not even sure what to say.

"It's been nice knowing you these past nine years, but I'm over it and I'm ready to move on."
"You know, I'm really a pretty sucky wife when you think about it -- you'd be better off without me!"
Or, I could sing "Big Girls Don't Cry" to him and see if he gets it.
But I guess the best thing would be straight-forward honesty: I'm really unhappy and I want a divorce.

I have so many fears surrounding the fall-out from this. You see, I'll be getting in my car tomorrow and heading out of town for the entire week -- again. I have no clue what I'd come home to or if my baby boy (or my house, car and money) would be here when I got back. Perhaps I should wait until I have more ducks in a row and for a time when I'll be here to manage the fall-out and protect my furry son from being whisked away and my assets from being ransacked and pillaged.

See, I've talked myself right out of having the talk. Instead, I'll continue to get the house ready to sell, continue to move and protect assets, and continue to plan my move.

Yeah, that's the ticket... stay tuned.

P.S. The House

Turns out my next door neighbor's good friend wants to buy the house and he's into renovating! Now I just have to get it clean enough to show. That'll take a small army!

Step 1.a.

A review of the finances, the cost of moving a 6'4" grand piano and the cost of a place that will do it justice have me revising the list a bit... I've now added to it, "Sell 1927 Steinway Heirloom Grand Piano" and I'm not happy about it.

Upside to selling the piano: paying off the note! LOL I wonder if that will allow me to afford the condo I REALLY want (which is about $150k more than my current budget). NOT!

I had a really nostaligic moment coming home on Friday: I was crossing the Chesapeake Bay and I teared up... this is always going to be home for me... even when it isn't any more.

Step One:

Make lists, make lots of lists, obsess about said lists, feel overwhelmed by lists, tear up lists and start over.

Step One: make ONE list of all of the lists you need to make... no... wait...
Step One: Determine the order of action required to sell the house... and put it on a list...

I am in list hell, but I'm making progress. So far, here's my list:

1. Decide whether to sell house as-is, or whether to make improvements.
2. If I decide to make improvements, do the following: Update kitchen, den and bathrooms, work on curb appeal (hell, that could take a YEAR!)
3. Rent a POD and clear out all of the extra "stuff" in the house, including "A" -- okay, so maybe I won't put HIM in the POD... but then again... (smile)
4. Put house on market
5. Put down money on FANTABULOUS condo overlooking the river and pray that the house sells before closing on the condo.
6. Wait
7. Oh yeah... and file for divorce. There's always that.

Shit!

or get off the pot. That's what my grandpa used to say... and now I must heed that advice. I've now been told by my best friend and my parents that they're tired of hearing about my marital situation and that it's time to do something about it. They're calling my bluff and I always rise to a challenge.

I'm putting the wheels in motion to get out of here... to sell the house and move to another area -- closer to my Territory office. I've already located several condos -- one of which is about 3 miles from said best friend's house! It could be worse, right?

So, there's a new adventure in the works... one that includes kitchen remodels and bathroom overhauls and putting a house on the market at one of the worst possible times... but it's forward progress and that's what matters, right?

Now, I'm off to the Department of Motor Vehicles, where I will likely be held hostage the remainder of the day. If you don't hear from me within 36 hours, send in the Cavalry!

Go, Leave...

I recently heard a song with the above title. While the lyrics don't exactly reflect my situation, the sentiment does. For a long while now, I've wanted "A" to leave... now I think it might be time for me to go.

This is the worst possible time to sell a house and split assets - but I feel as if I'm shriveling up inside. I'm tired of feeling better about myself everywhere but at home and now, the accusations are starting to fly. He thinks I'm cheating... HA... I don't have the time or the energy for that. Besides, if he knew me well, he would know it's not in my makeup... obviously, he doesn't know me well... in fact I would venture to say he doesn't know me at all.

Still, it hurts -- it stings -- when he lashes out this way (even when he "swears" he was kidding). Of course, in his mind, the entire failure of the marriage is that we don't have sex often enough... but he doesn't seem to understand that pointing that out just makes it less likely to happen. I almost feel like it's the only expectation he has in our marriage and everything he does or says is just a means to that end. I can't even begin to express how that affects me... me, the girl who was raped at 15... to feel that my entire worth to him is sexual. He doesn't get it...

I am so very tired tonight. My job is wearing me out and coming home has become a dreaded end to an exhausting week. Maybe I am cheating on him -- I'm cheating with my job -- stretching my stays just for the peace and quiet of a hotel room. God knows I don't even want to LOOK at another man.

Solitude... that is what I seek tonight.

The Dogsitter

How does one go about divorcing one's dogsitter? When one works 70 - 80 hour weeks and is actually home 5 days a month, one's dogsitter is a very important person. Without the dogsitter, the dog would be sad and lonely... getting walked twice a day and spending a few hours at the grandparents' house. That's no life for my son... the love of my life.

So, I stay married to the dogsitter -- for the kid's sake.

At long last...

I've dug my way out of middle-management hell to post on my blog. I'm less than 24 hours away from my 43rd birthday (woo-freakin'-hoo).

I'm preparing for the band's first gig... unfortunately, it's not OUR music - we're playing back-up for an Elvis impersonator... but, hey, a gig is a gig, right?

I just bought three vintage dresses for the occasion

Unfortunately, I had to order them in size XL as all of the travel and endless meetings have increased my girth nearly exponentially over the past three months.

Things with "A" are about the same... we live completely separate lives under the same roof. We recently attended his 25th high school reunion, which was fun and interesting, as he went to one of the more prestigious boarding schools on the East Coast. His former class mates and their spouses were interesting folks and I enjoyed their company. The trip itself, on the other hand, was the usual exercise in anger management - or the lack thereof.

We are scheduled to go to Turkey to visit his folks at the end of this month... yes, all of my vacation time this year will be spent doing what HE wants to do... yes, I know that I'm the one who said 'yes' to the proposal and I really would like to see his dad again -- I really do like him and enjoy his company.... besides, how often does one get a chance to spend time on the southern coast of Turkey overlooking the Mediterranean? (boy, if that's not a run-on sentence, I don't know what is... sorry)

The new job is fraught with INSANE political undercurrents and I often find myself wishing I'd just stayed put. Still, the regular pay check, benefits and company car are making things more comfortable financially. I'm rarely home -- travelling at least 3 out of 5 days each week or, like this past week, leaving on Monday and returning home late Friday afternoon. All of the travel is by car and I've found myself more than once standing in front of a hotel room door trying to gain access, only to realize that it's the room number from LAST night's stay. I've reached the point already where I know the staff of the hotels by name -- especially the bartenders! LOL

Just this week, I learned that I will not be eligible for any company trips next year because my colleague who is responsible for recruiting hasn't recruited enough people in the first half of the year. When I went to my boss with that issue, he suggested that I start recruiting myself. How's that for a solution? Do his job for him and make him look good when his bonus potential is more than TWICE what mine is AND I wouldn't get any additional bonus for doing his job for him... yeah... I'll get right on that!

Well, it's time for another muscle relaxer... see, my back isn't liking all of the car travel either and I haven't been able to straighten up for three days now.

Happy Birthday to Me!

Valentine's Day

The day before Valentine's Day, I got a wonderful thank-you gift from our National Sales Director for making the whirlwind trip to Connecticut a few weeks back. It was two lobster tails and two filet mignon! While always leary of his grilling skills, I was craving a wonderful dinner and "A" stepped up to the plate to make our feast for the night.

Part of me was dreading this holiday - how does one go about buying a card for someone about whom one feels ambivalent? Half-hartedly, I stopped at the grocery store on the way home from work and (along with a jillion MEN) picked up a card and some chocolates.

I arrived to find the usual dozen roses and stuffed puppy on the bar - along with a card with an unbelievable inscription that went on and on about how much I'm loved and adored. In return, his card said, "you're a great cuddler" with a picture of two adorable puppies on the front. I bound up the chocolate bars (his favorites) with some leftover Valentine's decorations from the bow box under the bed and I was done.

Back to the meal: it's always a big production when "A" cooks. He gets all intense and type-A and yells at the dog, the food, the stove and the grill alot. Such a great way to put dinner guests in the mood to enjoy a festive dinner! Valentine's night was no different. Suffice it to say that my fears of his grilling skills were confirmed as my steak ended up still cold in the middle and the potatoes were still raw. I, of course, made the best of it and made light of the whole thing... but he stormed off upstairs for the remainder of the evening and didn't come down until I was long-since asleep. THAT was my Valentine's Day.

For those who asked, the malcontent did talk to his supervisor about his salary and was promptly referred to the head of the department - who is out of the country until the end of the month. There's nothing worse than getting all worked up over something and then being put on hold for weeks at a time. It kind of puts a damper on things, you know? We'll just have to wait and see what he does come March 1st (when I start my new job and he's fully vested in his retirement plan). Yeah - that'll be interesting indeed.

And Virginia goes to...

a dichotomous duo: Obama and McCain -- creating an interesting night, to say the least. The voting process was once again a source of discord in my household with the malcontent non-citizen preaching to the politically active citizen about how she should have voted. As you can imagine, that went over like a fart in church.

I was also informed this morning that today is the day that the aforementioned malcontent is going to give his boss an ultimatum about his salary and that if he doesn't get the answer he wants, he's "out of there." Didn't I predict that he'd quit his job in March? Anyone living in the "Potomac Primary" area be prepared to see an explosion of nuclear proportions if he actually goes through with it.

My start date for my new job is March 1st. The reactions have been mixed and very few people have seemed genuinely happy for me. But that's okay... it's not about THEM... it's MY promotion and no one can take that away from me -- not even a gaggle of kill-joys!!!

The Drama

I knew that telling my agent partners was going to be difficult. What I didn't know was that telling the area managers was going to create so much drama! You would have thought that I was taking food from his mouth or burning his boat or kicking his dog or something! I was absolutely astounded when this guy made MY promotion all about HIM! I thought only "A" did that.

The first words out of HIS mouth, "well, I don't know how I'm EVER going to hit my numbers now." This comment was followed shortly thereafter by a phone call to his boss, who then called MY new boss, who then called me. What a great way to start my new venture. Oy ve!

So, that's how my day began and it just ENDED with a temper tantrum: 'A' yelled at me that Las Vegas was on. I guess he didn't hear my answer, so he yelled again and I yelled back. He then stormed upstairs. Ah... how pleasant that I get to watch it by myself in peace and quiet! Note to self: perhaps I should have had a kitchen and bath added upstairs. Then I'd NEVER have to see him!

The Boat

Today, I got the job offer. It's more money than I ever imagined I would make in a year. The bonus, the car, the expense account... it all just leaves me speechless. The fact that the National Director of Sales is the one who recommended me for the job makes it all the more special.

The part that makes me want to cry is that before the first sip of champagne had been swallowed, "A" made his request... "Now that you're going to be making so much money, do you think you could buy me a boat?"

Not so much as the first check in the bank and it's already about him.

Need I say more?

The Rings

This post over at Tall Glass of Vino got me to thinking about my own rings. As most of you know, my marriage is pretty much a sham and there are days when putting on "the rings" just seems to be too much for me to bear. They feel like shackles - reminders of this hellish prison in which I live day to day. I feel a physical aversion to putting them on my ring finger - even though the diamond in my engagement ring belonged to my grandmother and my diamond wedding band to my mother. It's the fact that they represent a marriage that is so far gone and a relationship that drains the very lifeblood from my body that causes me to recoil at the mere thought of donning them.

Who ever thought that such gorgeous gems could cause such a reaction?

Update

Well, I was going to post a recording of our latest rehearsal, but the more I investigated that idea, the more I realized that it would probably be an infringement on some songwriters' legal rights and decided against it. I'm bummed out about it, as I was really looking forward to getting some feedback on our progress. I'm excited about our work and I think we're going to have a lot of fun with this! Our next step is to record a demo and start marketing the band to local venues.

Things are looking up on the job front. I have an "unofficial" offer for the management position - pending the person who's currently in the job getting her hubby's buy-in for a switch to another job with the company. I'm expecting a financial package tomorrow.

"A" and I continue to live separate lives under the same roof. He's now found a job opening in Arizona for which he wants to apply. I'm sure he knows that I'm not going to walk away from a new promotion to move out there with him... at least I HOPE he knows that!

I'll try to come up with something witty or mildly interesting to post about here soon. Until then...

Rain, rain, go away

I know we're in a drought and all of that... but seriously, enough already! Rainy days just make me grumpy and give me a headache.

I'm looking forward to "wing night" with one of my agents tonight. We're going to eat chicken wings and drink beer and hang out for a few hours. Maybe that will brighten my day a bit!

In other news, A and I are now truly living separate lives. The only time we actually spend in the same room is at dinner. Once Jeopardy is over, he heads upstairs where he stays until bed time. Oh, did I mention that he's sleeping in the guest room?

I'm really missing band practice. Our drummer is out of town til the end of the month. As much as I want to sing with THEM, I'm finding that I have zero interest in getting back to choir or even the symphony chorus. It all seems so dull and boring now and I'd rather work on other things.

For now, I need to work on earning a living... so I'll sign off for now.