One of the questions I am asked regularly is…
Do you still talk with your ex-wife?
The answer is yes.
Since I’m in a ridiculous number of support groups and therapy, I’ve had a year point five to process a lot of the anger and sadness that comes with divorce. Sure it still pops up once in awhile, and I feel like crying (sometimes I do) or screaming choice expletives at an invisible version of her (I do this too). That’s normal, from what I’m told.
It’s been awhile since I put the fart humor aside (pains me to even write such a sentence), and talked about something more real, but I think it’s time.
One of my good friends, Bill Flynn, is known for saying that doing emotional work is much more exhausting than physical work. I have found this to be true as well.
This past weekend I found out my microwave had stopped working because it was leaking radiation. The unit has a kill switch that triggers when it senses the electromagenitc waves are not contained within the microwave itself.
So, for the past month I was without a microwave. And you know what? I realized I only use it for a few things.
Ever once in awhile I get super depressed.
Not “hide the razorblades” depressed, but more “eat too much, watch an Office rerun and pig out on LifeSavers” depressed.
I’m bummed about finances.
Thankfully I’m not a debt person – I mean I pay a mortgage, but no other obligations. I have to write the government a big tax check by December 31st because I incorporated to save on taxes. The crappy part is that I now have to pay by December 31st instead of next April like the rest of you.
I’m not sure you can relate to this, but each year I send out about forty holiday cards, and at best, receive ten back.
Do I have crappy friends? Possibly.
Or maybe I just send cards out to people that don’t send out cards.
Either way, I don’t get angry about it. But I do get sad.
I have somebody who has reached out to me recently and expressed interest in dating. She seems like a perfectly lovely woman, and so far our conversations have been nice.
Only once have we spoken on the phone, the rest is through email and instant message. She lives somewhere other than Chicago.
I'll never give this child another cigarette, pinky swears!
