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Meeting Your Ex


He’s breathing on his own. Thank you for all of your prayers and good thoughts. It’s an amazing turn around. Just a few days ago the doctor was surprised he made it through the night and now he’s sitting up.

I’ve been racked with anxiety since I made the decision to come see him. I’ve been nauseous. Eating makes me sick and not eating makes me sick. We didn’t part on good terms. I still don’t know how his family feels about me. (I’m staying close to the hospital, so I’m able to check in early and late, missing most of my in-laws.)

He’s been married and divorce since I last saw him. What will I say? Thoughts kept rolling through my head. I love him, but I don’t LOVE, love him. I wouldn’t mind being friends, but it might be too late for that.

I checked with one of my nephews and he said I should come and seem him. I don’t want you to think I pushed myself on him without taking his feelings into consideration.

Some of his buddies were in the room when I entered. I barely recognized him. He looks old, perhaps the illness has taken its toll. He’s had some hair loss and what’s left is white. He’s gained a lot of weight, some of that’s probably fluid.

When we were in the middle of our divorce and everything was so ugly, I imagined seeing him again. This wasn’t far from my fantasy. “I’m still looking young and you are old. Was she worth it?” I would say. (Of course she would look old too.) He would fall to the floor and tell me how sorry he was and I wouldn’t care. I would reply with various snide comments. “Should have thought of that before you left me for your mother.” (She looks like his mother.)

So what did I choose to say? Something amazingly insightful? Perhaps even a little biting. No. I said, “Hey what’s up? I thought you were going to dance on my grave. You’ve got to get it together. I’m depending on you.”

He chuckled. His friends chuckled and then the conversation turned back to chasing women. The reason we split up in the first place.

The doctors have scheduled him for open heart surgery tomorrow. He’s still in intensive care, but I’m optimistic. Tomorrow I’ll see his family. But for now, I’m going to go gnaw on some crackers and sip Sprite.

Status on Ex


My ex collapsed recently. Just an update on his status. His fever is down to 99. His OT states are over 90. (They were 80.) His heart rate has come down, but is still beating to fast. His eyes are now tracking when people are speaking.

Not much, but still it is in the positive direction. Thanks to everyone for your support.

Dee


Ex is in the ICU. He’s had two heart attacks, is on a ventilator, is tachycardic, and running a fever amongst other things. They haven’t been able to lower his heart rate. So they can’t do anything more for him until they can get his heart rate down.

We grew up together. We wound up married due to circumstances, not because we were or ever would be friends. Maybe that happens to a lot of people.

I was told this morning that the doctors were surprised he was still holding on. I cried. I wasn’t expecting to have an emotional reaction. I never hated him. In fact, I wished him well. Still, I didn’t expect to feel this bad.

He hasn’t recognized anyone, so I expect he won’t know me. I’m going 3,000 to say goodbye to my first love.

I don’t think there’s anymore to say. The end.


Do you ever get songs stuck in your head?

I have a few songs that I seem to cycle through. When I try to stop one another begins.

My usual “… That’s why I love you so don’t be afraid to let is show true something, something” over and over. And I don’t know the rest of the words.

An oldie She’ll be Coming Round the Mountain When She Comes, three verses. Are you kidding me? I know three verses of that song. Must be deeply embedded from my childhood. (verses two and three if anyone is curious – she’ll be driving six white horses and we’ll all go out to meet her…)

And drum roll please. This morning’s song – It’s a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood from Sesame Street. No it’s not beautiful day in the neighborhood because that song is stuck in my head!


53 (9)

I don’t have a flying horse, so we had to settle.

Wondering was Pegasus a flying horse, the only flying horse or a species of flying horses. I pondered that for quite a while before thinking “God should have made some of those”.

Which led me to wonder if there were flying horses, would anyone have bothered to invent airplanes. Would they have just been off flying around on their horses?

Would I have flown up to New York on my horse this morning? And what kind of winter apparel would we need for horse flying? Would there be horse flying sports and recreations? Would hotels have flying horse stables?

That’s about the time I realized one of us didn’t take our medication to stop obsessive thoughts. No wonder one of us wasn’t falling asleep.

P.S. I had an anxiety attack on the airplane and was nauseous all day long. I bet I wouldn’t have been anxious riding my flying horse.


209

Due to ice and not the “cooling my Margarita” kind of ice, I’m trapped in Dallas when I should be in New York City.

The heat in my house is less than adequate. If I had little children, they would be wearing their cute little imaginary snow suits. As it is the kittens, who are HUGE (Maine coons cats) kept wheedling their way under my blankets to warm their paws on any expose skin they can find. Little darlings (again, sarcasm).

I was rotting my brain watching YouTube when I came across a video of men getting a-steams. Which is the steaming of the nether regions. You know, the one that starts with a…

You sit relaxing over a chair hole while hot tea boils beneath you. I was thinking holy mackerel, my Finnish friends with the love of saunas have started their own spa chain.

I haven’t had a manicure, pedicure or even a facial. So it may surprise you when I say, I have had my a.. steamed. Usually it’s in the middle of August and you’re praying the temperature will get down to 100 F (38 C), but you know it won’t until September. Then as sure as butter will fry your bacon, I inevitably say, “My butt is sweating.”

And you telling me people really pay for this. I’m starting a spa. Come on down to Texas and we can steam you. Just shove this green tea bag up your. Well, you know where. That’ll be five dollars please.

P.S. Next time I want to tell someone off, I’ll say, “Shove it in your chair hole and sit on it.”


When I feel I’m on the edge of depression, I think about philosophical topics. Lately I’ve been focusing on happiness. What is it? What does it feel like? I take medication for anxiety, depression and obsessive compulsive disorder. So, I wonder if I’m capable of having everyday happiness.

I have a request. Do you know happiness? Is it your normal state or is it fleeting? Or there any prerequisites? I want honesty. I want to know. This request started when I began trying to remember times I felt happiness.

I can recall times when I’m what I call “On”. Moments when the stars align and I’m extremely social and funny. People will say, “You should be a comedian.” But it’s not on demand. I’m either on or I’m not. I can’t force it.

Those are intense, exhausting moments of giddiness. Does happiness feel like you’re laughing inside? I can only feel it with people present. Surely it can’t be happiness if you can’t feel it alone.

I began to wonder if anyone is truly happy. They must feel unhappy some of the time. Is happiness a percentage of time averaged across people?

I average about ten percent of that giddy feeling. I coast in neutral for about forty percent of the time, thanks to medication. The rest of the time is spent between obsession, anxiety, and depression in that order.

Maybe happiness doesn’t exist. It might be this neutral place of non-negative feelings? Or do I have an emotional blindness? Do the combination of the disorders I have make it impossible for me to feel? Not is a depressed way, but in a “you just don’t have that bodily function” kind of way.

Someone told me the prerequisite for happiness is gratitude. I’m starting a gratitude journal. I’ll see how that works out.

Right now I’m going back and forth between two theories.

One is happiness is like a unicorn, a myth. No one really feels it. People talk about it, say they have it, because it’s socially unacceptable to do otherwise. The other is happiness is real and I’m just not doing it right. And I guess I lied. I have a third theory, maybe I’m emotionally blind. It’s something I should stop obsessing over, accept and be at peace with it.

That brings me back to my request. Do you know happiness?

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