On My Mind

My plan is to write daily.  I don’t see that happening, but better to have a plan than none, right?

I’ve been struggling not reaching out to Bennett, though somewhere deep in the recesses of my mind I have committed to NOT doing this until ost surgery.  My birthday is coming….and I do have a hope, though mostly an unrealistic one, that he will say Happy Birthday to me.

I re-read my severance papers to find out I no longer have health insurance and went into a spiral.  I am so angry.  I could have stayed until September 5th if I knew it would cost me a month of health insurance.  Everything about losing that job is making me angry at the moment.

I am officially “man-free” and “dating-app” free for the past two weeks.  Although I miss the nonsense chat and the thrill of possibly connecting with someone, I don’t truly miss the difficulty of dating.  I’m not ready anyway as I am no where near over Bennett.

I am 5 days away from surgery, which seems a bit unreal to me, and also signifies how my brain won’t process things until it firmly has to.  I have been excellent about eating the past two weeks and have remained on a virtually liquid diet.  The most whole food I have chewed is Tuna Tartare and the Chicken and Noodles in my chicken soup.  Both acceptable as what they call “mushies.”  I don’t actually have to go on a clear liquid diet until post surgery, but I will probably start that about 2 days before just because I am scared of having anything in my stomach.  The diet isn’t to shrink your stomach, but your liver as chances are most obese people have fatty liver disease and don’t even know it.

I made buckets of homemade chicken soup for when I return and have bought sugar free popsicles and jello.

My surgery is not necessary, not from a surgical point of view.  This is entirely voluntary.  I heard it helps to reduce anemia, became curious and found out my cousin and her friends had done it earlier this year.  I then looked into local doctors to find that the Gastric sleeve surgery here in my locale runs at least $18-$20k paying out of pocket.  My BMI wasn’t high enough to qualify…..and funny thing – had I been caught out without health care and had qualified I may have just shot myself in the head at that point.  But, I am paying out of pocket and I am going to Tijuana, Mexico, alone, to have the surgery.

I’m terrified to death, of course.  I joined a few support groups and have found one lovely person who will be there right after me…we try to support each other off line. But there is plenty of support on line, as well as my cousin.  None of these people are me, and none have been through the crap I’ve been through, so of course its a risk.  And, I have always been high-risk everything.  So why am I doing it?  Because it is literally my reset button.  This was my choice to reset my life in a way I felt I needed to.

A bad decision considering all my health concerns?


But back to that “I don’t care” part of my brain?  The surgery falls into that part of my brain.  I do not care.  If I die, it was meant to be.  But, I do not expect to die.  I expect to be deal with the outcomes with pure will.  I will come through this with no problem, I will be fine, and I will succeed.

I have to.

So, the big elephant in the room this month is my surgery.  I fly to San Diego on Thursday September 6th and I have surgery in Tijuana on Friday September 7th.  Assuming all goes well, I fly home on Tuesday September 11th.

I have told my two closest friends and no one else.   I have not told my local doctors.  I will tell my son before I go.  And you, now you know.

When I return, I have an appointment with the gynecologist to discuss my female problems.  I have decided there is no way in hell I am having a hysterectomy.  I was with a close friend last weekend and she is miserable.   That caused my ultimate decision to never have one.  If the fibroids grow too big or I end up with another exploded cyst, I will deal with it then.  I am not knowingly going to lose the last part of my womanhood.  I’m just not going to do it.

I have no doubt the doctor will scream at me for the Gastric Sleeve surgery.  I don’t care, my decision is made.

I have been trying, really trying to get in my 10k steps every day but I am not surly able to do it.  I really hate exercise.  But, I do try, every day.  Today I was on my bike for 20 minutes and then did a 10 minute arm work out using my Peleton app.  I cleaned the garage which required bit of lifting.  But even then, I hit only 5k.  I need to go take a walk if I want to make 10k.  I just don’t want to do it.  This is going to be a key part of my recovery and reset….I must exercise.  As much as eating less and eating properly, I need the exercise.

Why am I so unmotivated?  I hate this feeling.  This awful, sinking feeling that there is nothing in front of me.  No job, no love, no income.   This is why I chose the surgery, to force self forward with a change I cannot escape from.

My heart still hearts so badly each time I dwell on Bennett and I truly try not to.  Maybe I should think of a punishment system for myself….if I dwell I need to…?  Exercise.  That would be the punishment.  Lol.   I know its my hormones, its clear now that the worst of it is around the same time of my cycle each time.  The sadness first, then anger later.  Nice PMS cycle my body has chosen late in life.

I did get two posts in, and will start the countdown to surgery now.

First, my youngest goes off to school on Wednesday and I will prepare and leave meals for the two boys for the few days I’m gone. Even though their father knew I was traveling (he doesn’t know why) he went away with a woman because “he never gets to do anything” and “no one jumps for him.”  Very fatherly thoughts, eh?  He didn’t care that I wouldn’t be home and said they should fend for themselves.  Yes, they are old enough, but that’s not really the point is it?  The point was its his parenting time, he knew I was away, and he still made the decision.   He is just a selfish bastard,


Reset: Hello September One

Good Morning.

I planned to write this post on September 1st, but since its already Sept 2nd, sort of shows you where my mind is at.

I started my blog as a way to document my experience with my divorce and sex life.  I had no idea how much I would love the interaction of the people who stuck around and supported me through these follies.  Sometimes I wonder what is it about me that makes me want to out myself out here, naked and exposed, and hear what other people have to say.  And it’s not always good, let me tell you.  But it always offers me honest opinions that I may or may not get in real life.

Being depressed and unmotivated for 4 solid months now, starting and stopping multiple avenues to move myself forward, I had many days and nights where I just gave up.  I am not going to kill myself, but I have thought of possibly fading away.  The only thing that really stops me from doing this is permanently destroying my boys lives.  I can’t do that to them.  I can’t leave them.  So once I got to the bottom of my Valley of Hopeless Despair and set up my beach chair for a while, I began to think: if I have to stay for the boys, is it fair to just exist?

No.  Not really.  Damn my over-thinking brain.

That led me to my next step forward.  I stayed in my Valley of Hopeless Despair and ordered some wine, Prosecco to be accurate.  Bottles and bottles of it.  During this time, I made lots of bad mistakes, and some really good moves forward.  But nothing enough to lift me out of the Valley, I was still heavily shackled.  During this time, I made the final break with a married man I was in love with for 2 years, began to realize I could not save my dream job but could not only exit with grace, but as a superstar, bought the most wasteful, expensive exercise bike (Peleton) because that’s where the x-boy was working and it made me think of him, and sent my first-born off to college.  In my life, I have never had the experience of doing one hard thing at a time, everything for me comes in pairs or more.

And this time around, it was just one thing too many.

So, at some point, I had a break from reality.  I was sick of always being the strong one.  The one to come through.  The one to figure things out.  The one to solve problems.  I was tired.  My heart was broken for one too many reasons.  My confidence was shattered and the Valley of Hopeless Despair felt like the only place I could safely stay and hide-away.  I lie on my stomach on a beach chair there for a very, very long time.

I was hoping to get bored.

I didn’t, not really.

Sure, I had moments where I rose and appeared to all to be walking amongst the living.  You know why?  I didn’t want to invite anyone to my Valley.  This time, if I was going to make mistakes, have bad judgement or behave poorly I was going to do it alone.  Because I know it’s wrong, I just didn’t care.

That’s where I think I’m missing a crucial piece in my brain: I can seriously just not care.  I don’t care who I hurt or how I do it if I can get what I think I need.

Every day finds me conversely wanting to reach out to the x-boy as well as call his wife.  Every. Damn. Day.  The conversations and debates that rage in my head are frightening.

I refused to pay attention to my spending in 4 months and find my self close to $20k in credit card debt.  Four years of no debt, divorce and doing it on my own and when I am about to have no income, I find a way to create a massive debt load.

I kept binge eating.  I stopped moving. I kept drinking.  I made poor dating decisions and had bad sex.

And then, I don’t know how, something clicked in my brain.  It wasn’t like clicking into place, clicking – no, not that type.  More like a small movement of a watch hand going to its noon position.  It was a solid click.

I had written a horrible text to the x-boy and then deleted and blocked everything remaining of him in my devices.  I got too drunk and felt like crap for 2 days, so I gave up drinking (which means, I reduced consumption, don’t get ahead of yourself! Alcohol is life.). And I made an absolute and irrevocable decision to have Gastric Sleeve Surgery.

Which leads me to September 1st.

I am going to reset.  I am going to delete the blog and start over.

Those here for sex will be bored for a while.  I plan to write about myself.  My depression and my Gastric Sleeve Surgery.  I get it if you leave me.  I’m happy for you to stay.  But either way, I have a plan for September and this is going to be my accountability place.  For myself and anyone who wants to peek in.

The Valley of Hopeless Despair is now allowing visitors.