Signed, Sealed, Delivered...

We finally all agree on terms and conditions for a separation agreement. By "we," I mean me, my ex, and his attorney. I swear to blog 90% of the delay in this divorce has been HER, and what she "thinks" is "reasonable" for us. Um, yeah, "us." Anyway.

Got the final version yesterday morning. For a moment I felt panicked. This is IT, you know. It passed quickly, I signed the papers and talked to my secretary about notarizing them. Notarized, scanned, and emailed to my ex's attorney within minutes.

Suddenly, everything looked different to me. I opened my cell phone, which has a picture of the beach on Kiawah Island as the wallpaper. That trip stands out in my mind because I was attracted to someone else at the time and my marriage was tot.ally coll.apsing around me, and I had no idea how to stop it. I knew the other person wasn't the answer, yet my attempts to warn my husband of the dangerous and harmful direction the relationship was going were seemingly falling on deaf ears. I went with Tiny Panther, and spent a lot of time hanging out by myself and thinking. Coming the conclusion, ultimately, that this might not work, and we both might be happier away from one another. Realizing that it was highly likely he was just as miserable as I was.

When I looked at that picture today, it looked different. Suddenly I saw the marshy grasses and the sunset and the sand and the dunes and the ocean and the wet sand abutting the ocean for what they are, which is an incredibly beautiful and undisturbed part of the eastern seaboard. For the first time, that beach that I spent so many hours walking along wasn't cloudy and gloomy because of the sadness that tinged that trip for me - it was just the weather that day. That's all. That picture no longer held the symbolism or the reminders for me that it did just a few hours before.

The opportunities are limitless. Yes, I am sad that this didn't work out, but in retrospect, am somewhat shocked we held it together as long as we did.

It's a strange feeling to have nothing I am obligated to but myself. I haven't experienced that in almost eight years. It's a liberated feeling, for sure. There's so much potential all of a sudden...not that there wasn't potential in my marriage, but it's a different kind of potential, you know? GTIAGO could work out...that guy in the aviators I just passed coming into my office building could work out, LOL. I could move back to a ski town...I'm actually meeting with a former boss in Steamboat this weekend, though not (specifically) for that purpose. I could join the fucking Peace Corps! Start teaching yoga! Okay, you know what I mean. I don't have this weight anymore, of "not knowing" what might happen with the divorce. Now I just don't know what will happen with my life. Oddly, that's comforting.

I sat at my desk after I emailed the docs to my ex's attorney and wondered what I would do now. I thought about the refund I should be getting soon on my retainer from MY attorney, and all of the things I could do with it. I thought about the upcoming weekend and what perfect timing it is. I wondered if I am being a soulless bitch for keeping a (mostly) positive attitude throughout this process. I did have red hair when I was a kid...soulless gingerkid and all.

Then I decided, you are going to totally remember this day. You are going to totally remember the first person you texted after you signed (GTIAGO) and that you were chatting online with Leather when you received the email, signed the docs, and sent them back. You are going to remember telling her how nervous you were, and asking her to come to your office and hold your hand (joking!), and the someecard she sent you immediately afterwards about getting a wart removed from your ass that made you laugh so hard. How do you want to remember this day? Do you want to remember sitting at your desk, with your hands shaking? Or do you want to do something nice for yourself?

Hedonist that I am, I decided to take myself out to a nice lunch. I sent one final chat to Leather saying I was headed to Marlowe's and to text me if she wanted to meet up. I put some LMFAO on my iPod and put on my fake Coach sunglasses that GTIAGO bought me, and I made this beautiful day my bitch. I bopped down 16th to Marlowe's and ordered a sangria. Leather met me there a few minutes later, and we sat and talked and reveled in the sunshine and the men in suits.

And then I walked over to Victoria's Secret and dropped way too much cash on some lingerie and a tank top and a nightgown that I don't really need, but I want...ohhhhh, there's so many things I just want right now...

I have a feeling it's going to be a great weekend. If I can just slog through the next 26 hours...

Getting By

One of the funny things about getting divorced is how clear it was, to everyone around you, that it was happening. Despite your best efforts to keep shit on the DL, it seems to me now that most of my friends have come forward to tell me they saw it coming from miles away. That I disappeared off the face of the earth for 3-6 months, depending on which friend you were (i.e. long-distance acquaintances got the axe first...then couple friends...then my BFF's....and finally, even my family stopped getting their phone calls and emails returned), that we weren't invited to certain events because the tension was just too palpable when we attended functions together.

The most telling sign of all, to me, came the other day when I was looking for a phone number in my call log to my cell phone. Now, those of you that know me know I am TIED to my phone. It's my planner, my way to check my email and facebook when I am out and about, my way to feed my texting addiction. I plan probably 90% of my life via texting. As I was scrolling through the call log, I noticed something odd. Under "received calls" there is a huge gap between November 13th and December 29th. I didn't "receive" a single cell phone call during that time period.

Now, we all KNOW that doesn't mean that no one called me. And it doesn't mean I didn't call anyone, either. What it means is that I didn't pick up my phone one single time when it rang for over a month. Just. Too. Much. Effort.

I look back on November and December and see myself about as tightly strung as I have ever been in my life. And I tend to be a slightly high-strung person. I look back and see myself, arms out to my sides, holding redropes and legal pads and gallons of coffee and wine and random singular cigarettes, in my skinny jeans that were falling off my hips at the time, grinning and tense on a never-ending tightrope. And if you look up close, the grin is really me gritting my teeth. I couldn't even look at what was on either side of me, or I'd drop the whole fucking mess. I didn't even KNOW at the time I was on that tightrope, ready to fall at any second. I think my dog is down below running around somewhere, and my dad (who I talked to the other day for the first time since December!) and um, maybe something like self-interest.

The interesting thing is that I don't feel regret for missing out on that time...I mean, I have always kind of looked at life as you know, you've gotta do what you gotta do to keep your shit together. One of the few nonjudgmental things I took away from a dysfunctional family environment, I guess. Because that's what I saw.

Instead, I feel excitement for say, a month from now. Because I can look back on November and December and palpably feel how much things have changed. How much calmer I am, how much more I am getting done at work, how much more involved I am in the lives of my friends and family. How much more positive my attitude is and how much more open I am to possibility.

And I wonder what I will think when I look back on now. You know, later. Because sometimes NOW seems so amazing I can't really imagine that it can get just a ton better. Then I think, but NOW is better than THEN, so it's still possible.

This weekend was amazing and so much fun. I will post details later but I basically did nothing demanding or trying whatsoever. Friday I worked kind of late then went over to GTIAGO's house and we went out to dinner, then chilled at his house with some friends. He and his brother are hosting this mondo annual theme party thing this next weekend (there's teams and competitions and they actually hire "beer girls" for this thing) so there were a ton of people around planning/talking about that. Boys! So silly. Saturday we literally spent all day in downtown Denver partaking in the St. Patrick's day parade and after-festivities...bar hopping, eating and drinking way too much, and finally getting on the bus back to Boulder at 10. Sunday we vegged, went out to breakfast, then went to dinner at GTIAGO's parents house with his brother and HIS um, girl that he's dating or something. I dunno, she lives in another state and they aren't exclusive or anything but she's here for a week. It's kind of odd.

Like I said, deets later. But super chill weekend for me. How was yours?

The One Time I Will Look at Pessimism as a Postive Thing

I just had an ephiphany of sorts.

So, lately as I have been hanging out with GTIAGO more, and we aren't seeing other people, it's kind of freaking me out. I mean, even though we SAY we are trying to keep it cool and casual and not get too involved, at least until the divorce is over and I really *can,* it's obviously trending in a somewhat serious direction. Not like, moving-in-together-serious, you know, just more than casually dating.

I've been getting really nervous and uncomfortable about it, mainly because it's just such bad timing. And I feel like I am kind of a freak right now. I mean, I normally am a totally trusting and non-jealous-type person. Really. I mean, I honestly never worried about my ex cheating on me. And not because he's not super good-looking and charming and all that jazz, just because I kind of think, if someone IS going to cheat on you, what are you going to do about it? Or at least, that's how I used to think. I mean, if you find out someone is cheating, you dump their ass. Yes, it might hurt, but whatever. I kind of just think that any gain you might get from being so "on guard" and suspicious all the time is more than negated by the stress and strain and drama that kind of attitude creates in a relationship, not to mention the erosion of the other person's trust in you that occurs when you don't trust them.

Did that even make sense?

Lately I don't feel like a trusting type of person, at all. It sucks. I feel like I just need to be constantly suspicious of every little thing, so I can "catch" it if the relationship is going to go south, and bail before it gets too painful. Sad. And I know it's sad. I also know that if I don't get a grip on it, it can really fuck some stuff up. I mean, I've seen other people destroy their own relationships via such tactics, even though they were incredibly happy with the person they were with. And that's not what I want to do.

Anyway, I've been kind of worrying the concept over in my head lately, thinking about it a lot. I definitely have moments where I think, maybe I should just end this before it gets too complicated. Because I really think at this point we could still easily go our separate ways. Yes, it would sting a little, but not like it does when you are four, six, twelve months down the road, you know?

Then there's that little voice that tells me if I don't at least see what this situation has to offer, I will kick myself for the rest of my life! Dammit. Make the voices stop. Or at least agree on something...

I talked to GTIAGO about it a little last night. Basically he feels weirded out that I don't seem to really trust him, even though he's done nothing the slightest bit untrustworthy. We've had similar convos before and in the past I just always let him think I was a jealous type of person, because it seemed easier at the time than explaining all my bullshit drama and baggage. Last night I finally just broke it down for him - I just had a bad breakup and feel kind of silly for putting myself in a situation where I could have another one. And the more I hang with him, the more I like him - and the scarier that prospect becomes. So it's not him, it's me, and the timing of the situation, and all this baggage, blah blah blah.

I was talking to my BFF/roommate Tiny Panther this morning about it, we were just chatting about how hard it can be to let your guard down again after you have had a "traumatic" relationship experience. I mentioned that it's just a scary concept that in any romantic relationship, you are essentially either going to end up married (or at least commitedly partnered in some way) or break up. And there's a good chance the breakup is going to suck.

Then I realized that even if you get married, it might suck. I mean, I'm not saying my marriage sucked - there were definitely good times. But I, of all people, should know that just because something "works out," and results in some kind of long-term commitment, doesn't mean it's not going to go bad at some point.

From that perspective, it seems like I am equally likely to get screwed either way. So I may as well take the road that's the most enjoyable, right? Which is definitely continuing to hang with him and see what develops, rather than pulling out early in the interest of overactive self-preservation urges.

I realize that just sounded a little pessimistic and negative, but in a weird way, it totally helped me feel better about the situation, LOL.

This is Softball, Bitch

My friends play softball every year through a Boulder recreational league. I've never played before because last year was the first year they did a co-ed team, and I lived in Steamboat then. This year I decided to play, even though, as I told Sugar Cube - our coach - I suck at the outfield and all I can really do is hit and run.

I was all nervous last night because I haven't played in EIGHT YEARS (which, when I figured that out, was one of those "OMG I am so freaking old" moments) and actually had to go buy a glove because I had no idea where the one from my teenage years had gone. Now, I never played in high school or anything. I did little league (or the equivalent) when I was a leeeeetle kid and then played on a few rec leagues in college. That's it.

I pop-flied out my first two times at bat and then finally hit a triple, which was pretty nice if I do say so myself. Sugar Cube, taking into consideration my warning regarding how badly I suck in the outfield, put me out in right field. No one ever hits the ball to right field, you know? Except last night. I totally managed to be that chick that gets the ball hit straight towards her, and is completely oblivious, staring up at the lights, thinking about something else entirely. Clueless.

I warned them. And I am super sore today. I really am getting too old to drink beer and play sports at the same time.