Covid19 Struggles at Home

I live close to one of the Covid19 epicenters, but not close enough that my kids understand why I’m panicked.

My wound opened up a couple weeks back after the surgeon tried to cauterize it again. I also think I’ve had a weight gain that’s causing pressure on the adhesions and it’s partially why it hurts and is oozing. Either way, I have open wound.

I wasn’t concerned before the announcements about the sports leagues and now all 3 kids with indefinite school closings. But, now I am. And my kids think I’m being irrational. The one who is giving me the hardest time is the one who always gives me a hard time.

The bottom line, I don’t want him hanging out with his friends at night at parties playing drinking games. He’s not especially careful, this one, and the kids are all coming home from various colleges. They all have parents and families with different levels of exposure. The smallest group is like 12-15 kids. He thinks I’m crazy and has made it quite clear I’m the only parent that’s crazy and irrational. I know my kid, he doesn’t wash his hands enough. He doesn’t think about the risks.

When I tried to speak to him it turned into a screaming match because(just like his father) he kept at me like a battering ram. I kept my voice low and moderated and explained why I was scared. I explained how the disease can travel quickly. I explained I was worried that I am always immunocompromised and I had an open wound.

His answers were:

I didn’t do that to you (my surgeries)

No one else parents are concerned

This is no different than me being in Canada for 4 days for Spring break (that was Monday – Thursday before I began to worry)

This is no different than me being at work (in a restaurant)

When I suggested he can do all the things he wanted but needed to live with his Dad in the meantime, I found out his Dad has his girlfriend there and my kids are not welcome. The Dad spoke to my son to tell my son to follow my rules until his girlfriend left and then he could stay there. As usual, my x’s priorities are himself.

My son told me he has “no where to go” if I make him leave. I told him he has only 1 more night to stay home then he can do whatever he wants because he can live with his Dad until this passes. His answer: I can’t live with my Dad his apartment is too small and it’s not my home. You’re crazy. You do this to me all the time. No one else is this crazy. This is my Spring Break.

Of course I’ve been crying since. Why am I being penalized that his father has not created a home for him? Why is it ok he can’t live with his Dad, but not ok to follow my house rules. Why is he so selfish and entitled that he simply does not understand how sick I was (this none didn’t live at home while I was sick so didn’t see it first hand, but he’s been home the last year).

I suppose it could be worse. He’s not a bad kid, just a self entitled little shit. His brothers are entirely different and can he trusted to stay safe and at home – though I have allowed them to visit one friend at a time whose parents I know well. Even then, it’s risky, but I watch them come in and wash hands and change while their brother doesn’t even wash his hands unless I stand there and make him.

The fathers answer to all of this: when I move into my mothers basement they will always have a place to go. Not helping with this problem and his mother is 86….so how would that solve the problem of our son coming and going recklessly? He’s no father, never has been, I just wish I learned how to accept that.

I can’t wait for the mandatory curfew to start so my child has some control over his movements. Even then I bet he thinks it’s dumb and he can still do what he wants. Cases are found in his college and the town next to us and he still says “no one we know has it so we won’t get it.” I’m if the belief we need to quarantines best as possible until this is resolving. Better safe than sorry.

Douchebag Jim

I’m giving away the ending with the title.  Oh well.

I think I could write a series on this one event, honestly  This one threw me for a loop.  But, I also still haven’t learned to write in an edited fashion and tend to write out every detail, so I’m going to try something different with this post.

This is a GREAT reminder that I should ALWAYS trust my instincts.  I could have done worse, BUT, I still didn’t listen to the little voice inside that told me he wasn’t for me. Before I was sick, I didn’t see so many of the red flags that I pick up so quickly now.  Now, I see them and tell myself “maybe I should give this person a chance.”

Wrong.

I’m doing that because I’m lonely and it leads to nothing.  I am trying to fight this deep seated loneliness (of course compounded by the fact I have no job and that makes me feel worthless) and I do better some days than others.  I am losing my tolerance for these complete assholes lately, and there are so very many of them in the dating world.  Which is also why I think I’ve given the sort-of-too-boring (for me) men a chance more recently – though that hasn’t worked well for me either.

I met Jim (Jim2) just about a week ago on Bumble.  We matched, we text on the app a bit and exchanged numbers.  We spoke quickly on the phone to arrange an unusually fast date.  He lives in the city but was coming to a town close to me for a business meeting and would I consider meeting him for a very quick lunch?  I agreed and found a place for us to eat and would need to drop him at his appointment post lunch.

Jim checked all the boxes, on paper, all but one  – he wasn’t specifically appealing to me because he was a redhead, but I wasn’t going to eliminate him because of it.  When I met him, I was attracted and that was all that mattered.  He was 6’1″, lawyer turned investment banker, 57 years old, moved to the city 6 months ago, 2 older boys in college, ex wife of 10 years lives in another state, charming, very educated, gregarious and ambitious.  Not exactly funny, but we did laugh together.  This was off to a very good start.

Now here’s where I am going to try something different with my writing so I’m not literally mapping out every minute of my dates.  Bear with me if the style is awkward, I’m trying….

Our lunch went well and we hit it off.  He asked me for the next date before he left which was so refreshing. He kept in touch by text, but nothing over the top.  I ignored the little cues I was picking up in favor of the fact he wanted to meet again quickly and I enjoyed my time with him.

So, what were those cues:

  • The kiss was off.  Not bad, just slightly off.
  • He spoke immediately how he wanted a travel companion for upcoming travel.
  • He referenced often how compatible we were too quickly.
  • He mentioned I had great, sexy legs when I was wearing an outfit that you actually could never tell what my legs looked like (with sneakers no less!)

The next day, during text, he told me he had to go to Denver for business and wanted to convince me to come for 2 days to go skiing.  I didn’t jump at the chance, but I did ask my entire tribe of family and friends and everyone thought I should go, assuming our next date went well.  However, I had a lot of scheduling conflicts I would have to move around (an unusually busy week for me) and I didn’t have any ski clothes that would fit, so I had to ask a lot of people to see who might have something I could borrow. We spoke about it on the phone a bit more and my mind began its machinations to move mountains to join him for a coupe days skiing, assuming our second date went well.  The bottom line, if I were to agree to go it wouldn’t be super easy to get it all together, but I could do it.  Skiing was super appealing to me.

The second date was easy too coordinate and came together well.  He chose a wine bar conveniently to where I was in the city (thoughtful on both counts) and had already chosen the second bar we could try.

When he walked in, there was no tingle.  For whatever the reason, I wasn’t excited to be with him.  It wasn’t intentional, but it was an internal let-down for me.  In any case, the night was young and we got to chatting.

Things that went right:

  • We both liked wine and he was happy to choose the wine and made a great selection
  • He is easy to talk to  and seemingly transparent
  • He spoke often about his family and friends
  • He spoke highly of his children and didn’t speak negatively about his x
  • He was full of compliments for me
  • He was publicly affectionate

Things that caused pause and then full-out raised the red flags:

  • He was overtly publicly affectionate, all he wanted to do was kiss.  The kissing went from pretty good to ok, to not good at all by end of evening.
  • He talked so much about his life he neglected to ask about mine
  • He was planning all our future trips together
  • He began talking about sex, despite the fact I prefaced (after his first comment) it wasn’t something I wanted to talk about.
  • He “just had” to tell me how big he was.
  • He kept saying “when you meet so and so”

So, I have to evaluate….if I liked him more would the red flags have been ignored?  I have ignored them in the past for sure.  I would have jumped at the inference in his words – talking about the future together.  But not this time.  Something was off from the first date and it just went more off in the second.

BUT I STAYED.  This is where I question myself.  I can’t seem to just walk away and end a date.  Perhaps in the back of my mind I was thinking that if I was going to spend two days with him skiing that I really needed to be sure, really sure.  At least, thats what I’m telling myself in hindsight.

As we wrapped up our time in the second bar, he explained to me that he had gotten a hotel room because his son and friends had camped out in his 1 bedroom apartment.  This was just weird.  I knew this meant he expected me to stay with him and he had made a predetermination that that it would happen before we even went on  the date.  It bothered me yet I did nothing about it.  We went back, had some street pizza and then I ultimately caved to going to his room.  I knew I had drank too much and didn’t want to pay for the uber.  I convinced myself that he would hold true to his words and not try to convince me to have sex with him.  I made myself quite clear with words, but the action of going to his room is all he understood, right?

The night did not go well and my behavior wasn’t so great.  We crawled into bed and I left on my top and panties and he left on his trunks.  We cuddled and he kept trying and trying to move it forward despite the many times I removed his hands.  Eventually, we fell asleep and then, at some point,  he forcibly woke me mid-night to try again.  This angered me because I wasn’t sound asleep but made zero indication that I was willing to wake up.  I had to physically roll away at this point.  Morning came and we once again cuddled , but then he took my hand to his cock to “show me” what I did to him.  I pulled away and got out of bed.  Time to go.  I had had enough.

Before I got dressed, though, I made an apology.  I had gotten my period and was entirely uncomfortable being in bed with him (partially true – though the greater truth was that he made me uncomfortable).  I also had horrid night sweats and leg cramps that evening.  I was just terribly uncomfortable all around and I did push him away multiple times, and not gently.  I apologized because it wasn’t nice and would leave anyone wondering what they did wrong.   I believe I expected him to then fess up to being overly aggressive with the sex but he didn’t.  He just said he was glad I stayed because I had too much to drink the night before and that I should have shared the details with him earlier.

He came to get coffee with me and get me on my way.  I asked him if he wanted to look at flights while we were getting coffee and got brushed off -I knew in that moment he was done with me, despite what I thought or felt.  Asking bar the flights was intentional, I had started to sense the change from the moment I pulled my hand off his cock.  However, he text me later than day to say he had a good evening and hoped to see me again which caught me off guard.

I waffled.

How much of the evening went sideways because of how I felt, and how much went sideways because he was really a douchebag?

Well, the answer became clear by the next morning.

I replied to his text within the hour and never went back to check until the next day when I realized I never heard from him again.  The text wasn’t in imessage blue but was green.  I  knew I had been blocked.  So I sent it again and it went to green immediately.  I called his number for verification and it went straight to voicemail.  He had sent a text to ask to see me again and then promptly blocked me!

Here’s the thing – it was all so wrong and I had the gut feeling the entire evening.  I was proud I finally didn’t have sex when I didn’t want to and I felt better about myself the next morning.  I should have been more honest and told him immediately that it wasn’t working for me, but I waffled.  I waffled because I am so fucking lonely and its distorting my ability to make better choices.

The night we spent in bed was horrible.  Worse than the night I spent with my sympathy sex guy Chris  .  At least Chris didn’t push me the way Jim had.  During the evening with John, I really got to a point where I didn’t want to be touched or kissed by him at all – YET, I questioned MY OWN BEHAVIOR the next day.

I was pretty angry to realized he was such a douchebag to block me without having the courage just to say “no thanks.”  I don’t understand a 57 year old man being such a complete coward.   Of course, it made me feel like shit and begin questioning myself all over again.  In hindsight, despite his words to the contrary, he was only out for the sex.

Me being me, I sent a burner text the next day telling him what a coward he was.  No point in doing so, but it made me feel better to have the last word.  It was a polite text, mostly.  Then I blocked and deleted his number – not that I would expect a reply – but to be sure I never had any need to communicate with him again.

There was just so much nuance to this date that I didn’t capture in an effort to make the post shorter, but thats mostly it.

What have I learned?

Trust my judgment, I am not usually wrong.  Stop feeling guilty for no reason and stop being coerced because I’m lonely.

 

 

 

When I Don’t Care Enough – Part 1

Sometimes, not often, I don’t really care about how I am going to present on a date.

There are some men who I get the sexual tension from quickly, and I want to impress those men with sexy heels and a hot outfit.  Other men don’t seem to give off the same vibe and I don’t get as excited about the first meeting and what I am wearing, and perhaps a little, how I look.  Frankly, I tend to prefer the men with whom I get the tension with – even if the date doesn’t get legs, the initial date and flirting is just more fun.  I love the sexual tension and I love to look sexy.  Especially now….sexy now is an entirely different thing than it was before.  My body requires little to no effort to appear sexy to a man who likes a lean, fit woman.  This is a major head trip, for me.  I love the fact that nothing is uncomfortable when I wear it any longer.  Most articles of clothing are going to look good on me no matter what.  I can wear heels all night long.  I’ve always had the feeling of “being” sexy, but now its much more prevalent since I am proud of my body  (well, the exterior, the wounds and loose skin get compartmentalized when I am getting dressed because they are under wraps).  I don’t think my behavior is any different, but removing the physical self doubt is a massive relief.

I did choose weight loss surgery after all.

And then I chose to take care of the gift of life I was given post all the trauma.  I’m super fit and lean now.  I feel better physically and find that the working out helps me redirect a lot of negative energy.  I never thought I would be the one to say it but I love how the fitness makes me feel now.  It has changed my life.

This is a bit long-winded story about how I didn’t care how I looked on a first date. I had matched with someone who wanted to meet this particular night.

I had planned to do something quite out of character for me – I decided to go into the Peloton studios and do 3 classes in a row, in costume, for Halloween.  Alone.  Why?  No reason at all.  More like, why not?  I could. I love my Peloton classes and getting in studio is always awesome.  Plus, not that I admit this to any of my friends or family, but there is probably some attention factor in here.  Going to the studio gets me noticed by my instructors and creates a more personal bond when you interact with them on social media.  When I’m not working, the Peloton social community is my primary source of accountability.  If I make a post that I will do something, I do it.  I don’t know how the logic of that works for me, but it does.  So when I feel like I need a little push to step out of a comfort zone, I post before I think about it too much.  Then I’m committed.

The classes started at 6:30pm and would end by 10:30pm.  It was a pretty big fitness commitment and when I am in studio, it also means a push effort – I don’t want to “take it easy” on myself in studio.   All classes have a “spotlight” bike, tread or mat.  In the past, I have chosen this spot knowing I would be on camera for the studio taping of the on-demand classes.   Unexpectedly, I ended up in this spot in 2 classes -in full costume – doing classes that were so far out of my comfort zone that I questioned the sanity of these spontaneous choices.  I did a 45 minute run (I have never run that long) and a 30 minute yoga class (I never did a studio yoga class and I can’t do half the poses).  Of course, in the end, it worked out amazingly well and I had a blast and did just fine.   I loved being on camera (sort of, off to the side and in the dark, but still! Lol)

I did trip on the treadmill towards the end! Whoops! No one saw, right?

It reminded me that I like the spotlight and the competition.  My personality feeds off these things, but I forget that it does.  I should really consider how to tap into more of this part of myself – because I am good at putting myself out there.  My confidence takes a huge leap and I become like a different person.  I recall times in my life where the spotlight was on me that it brings out my type A competitive nature and I want to crush whatever it is I am doing.  I can’t create this feeling, or even call it up – but when it happens I love it.  I know athletes are able to tap into this ability to focus themselves and hype themselves up for competition, but when I try to do that, it doesn’t work the same as when it happens organically. I hadn’t actually thought of this before and maybe I should do a little research on why this happens with me.

This night, it was all organic.  Sort of.  I had set myself up for the potential something could happen, by being in costume, being present and interactive, and I was going to be equally as ok if nothing happened.  But, it did – I was noticed, ended up on camera, and made new friends.  I loved every minute.  No one was there who knew me or could judge, and the side of my personality that I normally don’t let loose too often – you can call it my cocky side -comes out.  My confidence and happiness overflow and I can affect those around me.  It’s such a natural high.

It was several hours of high intensity interaction and exercise. I loved every minute. If I could somehow tap into that energy more frequently, it would be amazing – I don’t know where it would take me because it feels boundless. However, times like this – where the energy is flowing so heavily from within – exhaust me for days. Add into it my chronic anemia, which happens to be keeping me down because it’s time for an iron infusion, and one event like this could knock me out for a week.

The bottom line was – after these classes I was going to be a mess. My hair was a birds nest of hairspray and curls, my makeup soaked through, and I would be a soppy sweaty mess. I would be able to take a shower post the last ride, but there was nothing I could do about makeup or the fact I had worn yoga pants going into the studio. Hardly the ideal condition to meet someone for the first time…..

Yesterday

I’ve been thinking of Tony on repeat for the past 48 hours.

My son and I watched a movie called “Yesterday” based on Beatles music. The movie is super cute and well worth the watch. I hadn’t heard of it before and it’s about a worldwide blip which erases The Beatles from existence (along with cigarettes and Coke among other things!). A young man takes all their songs and reintroduces them to the world, having to recall all the lyrics and music makes the movie so much fun along the way and it’s entirely singable. Very quirky and unexpected.

All I could think of was “I knew a person who could have been the lead in that movie”. Tony has been in my mind since I’ve seen it. He would take such joy in this movie and it’s silly and sweet journey. I couldn’t help but think of him all during the movie (besides the fact he sang many of these songs over out time together) and in the following hours.

Plus, my son and I have been listening to the Beatles on repeat for 2 days as well.

It’s sort of killing me inside.

So what can I do about that? When something resonates so strongly it becomes a physical thing again. I know what joy he would get watching this movie. I would love to share it with him.

Nothing. I can do nothing.

What did I do?

I posted on IG, and now I know he’s watching. I posted that the movie was fabulous, you should go watch it and “I used to know someone who could be the lead in this movie because he knew every song by heart.” I posted what I was thinking and feeling.

Is it poking the bear again? Maybe. I am not trying to solicit contact. That was the best way I could get this overwhelming feeling out into the universe without reaching out to him directly.

So there’s that. 🙄

She’s Off Her Meds!

This is literally the most welcome thing I have felt in over a year.

My libido is back in all its glory.

Thank Christ. I was worried there for bit.

It’s not exactly a surprise, I’ve worked with my doctors. But, despite that, I was risking other possible issues.

Last year, after my breakdown, I needed to get back on a stronger anti-anxiety medication. The one I had been on for years and years had stopped working and I had been crying and hysterical – out of emotional control – for too long. The doctor chose a basic, but strong new medication for me.

Luckily I had a good friend go on the same meds a couple month before me and she warned me what to experience. The first few weeks were pretty awful. Once my body adjusted I felt like a part of me was just shut down.

The tears stopped. Most intense feelings were just gone. There were no real highs and lows. Things went flat.

This was ok for the time. This was what I needed to pull me out of the spiral I had been in. My body chemistry is always going to need help with depression and anxiety, and I am not opposed to being medicated. Even then, I wasn’t opposed to being shut off either.

Now that’s it’s been 9 months and I began to feel some desire to be sexual again, I needed to call the doctor to revisit these meds. I was having trouble reaching orgasm even through masturbation with the hitachi on high! Never mind that I wasn’t getting much sensation during good sex.

The recent sex I’ve had has really been fabulous. Had I been off those drugs, no doubt it would have been even more off the charts. It was time to consider coming off the meds.

I was worried. I don’t want to go off the deep end again. I don’t want to start being anxious all day and crying again. That trade off wouldn’t be worth it. The doctor suggested a secondary medicine a few months back that I took in addition to the primary one. She had said, when I was ready to stop the primary, the secondary might be enough to give me the anxiety control I needed without the dead inside feeling.

It was worth a try.

So, about 3 weeks ago, I came off the meds.

And this weekend for the first time in years, I was able to masturbate with no aids and have multiple orgasms. Holy cow. The sex with Charles was also pretty intensely felt – I’m certain, had I not been drinking, he was going to make me orgasm, he had an absolutely unique method that my body all out responded to, despite the weird way he held me in position.

You have no idea what a relief this is because I was concerned my body was going to live in this dead zone forever.

I am aware it’s not only about my libido, I have to be careful no other depression and anxiety signs creep in without a discussion with my doctor. I had to reduce the dosage of the secondary meds pretty quickly as they suddenly gave me such a buzzy feeling. Once the primary drug was removed, and the deadness with it, the secondary medicine was too strong in its original dosage. So curious how these drugs all work on our bodies and brains.

I figured post all the sex and light bulb moments it would be good to clarify I got off my meds 😂.

Shhhhh don’t tell Trixie!

So Much on my Mind

Right now I feel like a could write a book. I’m no good at short versions of anything and so much has been churning inside of my head lately I wish there was a way to get it out as the thoughts happened and into the blog. It all seems so logical when I’m thinking of it, but when I go back to write it, so much seems to slip away and I end up not knowing where to start.

I felt like light bulbs have been turning on all over the place lately. I know it’s all tied up with my current situation in dating. I’m having a moment like I haven’t had in a very long time. My libido is back in full blast and it absolutely wreaks havoc on my good intentions to have better behaviors while dating.

The difference is – now I know it. And I realized I can do something about it. Maybe not the something some might prefer me to do (not drink, not have sex, not date kind of thing). I now realize if I decide to do the things I do, all I need to do is accept responsibility for what they are at face value and stop putting so much more time and wasted effort into wanting them to be more than they are

I’ve simply got to learn to accept that I can have sex, drink, be ridiculous and WALK AWAY once it’s over.

I’m going to stop feeling bad about myself after I make questionable decisions. Berating myself and becoming more anxious is serving no purpose. I need to own it.

The pressure my attachment anxiety puts on me in these dating situations has to stop. I’ve started having conversations with my anxiety similar to the way I would speak to Trixie if she ever materialized (god help us all).

Sound silly? Maybe. But if talking to myself is what it takes to own my behavior and course correct then so be it.

My dating cup is running over and I’m letting it. I feel like I’ve uncovered something big and want to see if I can put thought into practice.

My whole life has been spent looking for male approval. I didn’t get it from my father. I didn’t get it from husband. The first time I felt really and truly solid about myself the “approval” came from the wrong place (married men). In hindsight, I don’t know if that matters to what I have learned. I don’t think the man himself or the situations make any difference to what I took from them. In hindsight, I learned so much about myself and what I needed to feel good in relationship. If I had been more capable of controlling my emotions, these could have been all positive experiences. Maggie and Nichts recently have me thinking about how to reframe what I’ve been through and how I see my past. In all my recent writing about dating, and digging through my past, I finally realize I can stop needing a man to make me feel worthy.

I actually do feel worthy now. I feel alive and powerful more than ever in some ways (and weaker in others). Maybe I didn’t arrive at this place from the traditional “self-love” approach. Maybe I just filter things through my male-approval lens to understand them because that’s how I’ve always seen the world. I think I needed a solid round of decent dates, some quick turnover, some great sex as well as some rejection to realize I’m actually ok. It’s a normal cycle to be rejected one way or the other in dating. I never learned to accept it and still find myself worthy.

I realize I can. I can own the rejection and move past it. I can own the sex on first dates because I wanted it. I am doing my best balls-to-the-wall to push away the anxiety.

I don’t even know if I am making any sense. Like I said, it all sounded so solid and so crystal clear in my head and getting these thoughts into words has proven difficult.

I know I’m going to be fine. It doesn’t mean I won’t struggle with learning how to slow down, not push for more at the wrong time or with the wrong person. It doesn’t mean I won’t obsess a little or overthink situations. Those are just things I do. I just don’t need to overdo them.

Each man / situation gave me a light bulb moment this week so they will each get a post: Mike, Thomas and Charles (yup a new one!).

I can honestly say I’ve never had this kind of clarity around dating before. I feel like I’m seeing myself for the first time. Somehow I think I’m on the edge of something bigger that’s yet unidentified and in front of me. I feel in control in a way I have never experienced before.

It’s good to be on the edge. It’s liberating. It feels like Trixie level excitement without the crazy. Is that a thing?

I guess we are going to find out if it is or not. And hope I’m not feeding myself lip service.

Strange Days

I am beginning to wonder if thinking of Tony is cyclical. Maybe hormonal related? Or maybe it’s the empath in me. Whatever it is, I am sure it’s some kind of strange intuition because I’m not sure I can believe things are just this random.

I believe Tony is most likely still employed at Peloton. I bought the bike last summer to feel closer to him. Stupidest reasoning ever, but there’s the truth of it. I can’t even make sense of it. I barely rode in the beginning and he didn’t ride at all – he just worked at the corporate HQ.

When I had my last break of texting his wife in early February, I also made the decision that if I didn’t absorb myself into something else that I was going to slip right back into a massive depression. The bike is very expensive and it was sitting there. It was an easy choice that was healthy for me.

And then, in typical Madeline fashion, I became obsessed. This is a good obsession and keeps me focused and healthy. I feel fantastic after so many months of a sedentary and disabled life.

I didn’t think about Tony when I chose to invest my energy in the Peloton, somehow he became less the reason for the bike. I joined several groups for support and quickly joined the Peloton cult. I check in with members every day, ride in a group, and have made friends that I will be meeting in person this weekend. The community is so supportive its insane. I chose to buy into it. (I acknowledge I need to write a post about self-talk….a whole bunch of thoughts have been bubbling up lately).

With that said, there was one ride an instructor called Tony’s name in a shout-out. I can guess this instructor and Tony have become friends. It sucked for a day or so and started me thinking about Tony’s participation in Peloton (because he wasn’t a rider when I bought the bike).

Late last week, Tony has been in the forefront of my thoughts again – which never bodes well. I want to speak to him so badly and have to argue with myself consistently. There is no good outcome from reaching out to him. There is no reason to reach out to him.

Of course it never stops there with me.

Once I started to think of him more consistently again, the thought occurred to me he may be participating in the same Peloton event that I am attending this weekend. Then nausea started to set in. If I were to see him, and possibly with his wife, and certain he would ignore me – it would probably debilitate me and ruin my entire Peloton community weekend.

Then yesterday, I was in the city and was “this close” to taking a class at the studio when I decided to head home instead. Thank goodness my feet took me home because, I took that class on demand later in my day and who was at the front of class: Tony. Same instructor, Tony’s kind of music, and he was seated right at the front of class where you can see him on video most of the class. Of course the instructor also shouted him out and spoke to him.

I didn’t feel sick this time. Instead I worked up my best time ever and sweat mounds of sweat getting through that ride cursing the bastard for sitting there in his life. Knowing he’s back into his perfect life and marriage and just feeling angry. The anger fueled me and I got a personal best record for the ride. I wasn’t done. I went down to my treadmill for another hour-and-a-half and did some walk + run classes to continue my sweat.

If I had bumped into him at the studio, it would not have gone well. His last words to me were “my last impression of you is an asshole. Congratulations”. He means it too. I crossed the line with his wife and his wife told his kids – his worst nightmare come true to look bad in their eyes. I know him well enough to know he doesn’t forgive, certainly not a threat to his family. I am the one who hurt his family and he will always think of me that way. I am sad about it, but that’s my own doing.

This is why I think it’s some strange intuition in me. I started thinking of him and suddenly he actually manifests.

I don’t think he will be at the event this weekend, but as a sort of protection, August is going with me to the Saturday evening cocktail party and concert. It was a last minute decision when I heard from August again and I hope I don’t regret it. He’s about to be thrown into a pool of Peloton crazies and I don’t care. As long as he’s on my arm if Tony should be there.

My Poison

I was doing my usual sweep of social media this morning and saw Tony’s daughters FB. I know it’s creepy I look at his childrens social media, but it’s the last place I can see him. I also know he’s celebrating a wedding anniversary soon and figured someone would post a photo.

I got a video of Tony giving his wife a family trip to Italy because their son is studying abroad.

At first I felt sick. A literal shock rolled through my body. As I watched the video a second time, I was calmer. He looks like the same person I knew but perhaps tinged with cowardice(?) Does that make any sense.

I have a feeling I missed all along he was a little afraid of his wife. I got hints of it along the way, and I don’t think he’s afraid of her per se, but afraid of how she could ruin his life.

I’m not surprised or bothered by the family trip. I know it’s very common after a DDay to plan big moments like this to bond. To invest back into the relationship you were taking away from during your affair.

It’s a morbid curiosity for me to know what happened after their DDay and to learn what my part in the story was. I know it’s none of my business but how do I stop thinking about it?

How do I shut down my brain from obsessing like this? It’s been a year since I’ve seen this man and I’m still obsessing.

I understand what he gave me and why it was so important to me. I understand I will never be with him again. But why do I continue to want connection with him?

Part of me does wonder if the daughter did it intentionally? Her mother told her of the affair – did she tell her about me? Why does this matter to me when I known this is none of my business.

As a last thought, because I was being reckless, I now realize his daughter can see that I viewed her video on FB.

Will I be sick forever? Is my mind entirely destroyed from this affair – never able to get straight again?

I can’t seem to let go. I’m worried I may never let go. I’m worried I can only hold Trixie down for a while before I truly do harm again.

I’m a broken record. People with normally functioning brains can’t understand me. I want to will it all away and make active and conscious good decision to do so. Then something like this takes over and debilitates me.

I dialed his number from a burner and listened to his voice mail. Then I sent a text telling him I missed him. He’s not stupid so he will know I saw the video.

I deleted the burner now and wrote this post to save a little sanity. Next I will do some exercise. I should have put the phone down first and helped myself out of the burning desire to communicate with him but, as usual, the obsession won the fight.

Why, why do I feel some need to speak to him? I don’t have any desire to see him – but something in me wants more from him. More that I know I will not get.

Crazy Talk

I’m writing this to get it out of my head. I haven’t told anyone but the blog about looking at Tony’s photo and obsessing, but I haven’t been sleeping well and generally feeling a funk.

I know it has to be from that darn photo. Nothing else has changed.

I’ve now spent almost a week dwelling on the fact that he’s back in his marriage full time, he lied to me in November to say “nothing had changed between them” because I recall that bonding/hysterical sex is a real thing after finding out about an affair. So chances are he’s in a better marriage now than he was before.

It makes me want to vomit that I am obsessing and he’s getting on with his wonderful life and wife.

I want control now, of my thoughts, my ability to STOP caring about this man that nearly took life from me because I allowed it. I want to STOP worrying about someone who could care less for me.

I have to STOP thinking of how great I might have fantasized it could be because it was never anything but fantasy. We had a time, a season and now it passed.

I’m still thinking a lobotomy is my best option.

I Trapped Myself

I acknowledge that I am stuck in repetitive negative thoughts. The patterns are so immersed that I believe my brain processes the obsession as my normal cognitive behavior. When I don’t “get what I need/expect” I fight for it.

Fighting for it got me into a hole I nearly didn’t get out of last year.

I fought with my boss and had to leave a job. I fought with my children and still have one relationship that needs mending. I fought with Tony until I made him despise me. Even though, at times, I knew I should stop pushing, it felt like I was wired to defeat myself.

I had trapped myself into my own bad behaviors.

I tried to convince myself that going to Mexico was a reset button for me. If I could lose the weight other things would fall in place. Again, really bad thinking on my part. I know part of it was severe depression because I didn’t want to care if I died. I thought if I could feel physically better about myself, perhaps the emotional duress would lessen.

That’s clearly not what happened. I made everything much, much worse before it even started to level out these past few weeks.

Learning to get out of these behaviors is taking a toll on me. I am doing what I can which is primarily holdings myself accountable by writing out the damaging behaviors as well as redirection and create new, healthy patterns.

I actively try to stop my obsessive thoughts by interrupting myself. My brain is so powerful it can bring me right back to the unwanted and uncomfortable thoughts and I can’t exercise it away all day and night. I have disputed my sleep pattern despite including significant activity in my day. I disrupted my eating pattern and found the old habit of not thinking what was going hand-to-mouth too easy to fall back into.

I stopped the poor eating (there was a different trigger there will talk about in a separate post). Now I am going to figure out exactly what I need to build in my brain to stop the obsessive thoughts. I need a mini activity (even a brain activity, doesn’t have to be physical) that I do each time I begin to obsess. I need a replacement thought.

As much as I currently feel like my life was ruined, I want to begin believing it is simply changed. I have the power to begin making new and different choices. Choices that are better for me. I am not alone. People have lived through heartbreak and come out stronger the other side. I can too.

I hate self talk like I hate exercise but I’ve got to try something different. I may even make a vision board.