elfination

Yesterday, I stopped at the storage closet at my ex’s apartment building to get a couple of boxes. I was on my way to Wolf’s with laundry (his grandmother is so kind, she lets me do laundry there, and she’s got the world’s BIGGEST washer, which is awesome)… I glanced through a couple of boxes, just looking for something that might have interesting stuff in it. I grabbed two likely candidates, and was startled by Barrett walking into the breezeway.

I wasn’t just startled by someone coming up behind me; I was startled in another part of my brain… some part that said, “Hey! I know you! Aren’t I supposed to hug you, and kiss you hello?” I didn’t, of course, do anything (other than exclaim that he’d startled me). We traded mild hellos, and I left.

While at Wolf’s, I took some time to look through the boxes to see what I’d grabbed. I gave Wolf his choice of some random playstation games from one box, and I looked at the other.

I found something so sad: A book-shaped wooden box that I’d carefully hand-painted and varnished many years ago… a Valentine’s Day gift to Barrett from before we were married. I opened it, sadly thinking of what I’d find. The little bear-shaped figurines, some glued or taped to bits of paper with little scenes drawn behind them. The little notes saying what I loved about him. The little coupons for snuggling on the couch or backrubs… things he almost never asked me for. The little purple hershey-kiss-shaped drop of glass…

And then… an index card, with his handwriting. Something I don’t remember putting in there, something that could easily be from a long time ago, but just hit me so hard now. We used to write haiku to each other….

You are my treasure
Gorgeous and Precious, Love
I shall miss you much.
– With Love, Barrett

Oh…..

I used to be someone’s treasure. Someone’s precious. Something someone would miss. Something to whom someone wrote warm things, with love.

oh.

And my heart breaks into a thousand little ice-cold shards all over again.

Okay, it’s come to my attention that not everyone quite understands my work and school schedule, so let me recap:

Sunday: 11-3 or 12-4 (Depending on the week): work.

Monday: 8:00 - 12:30: School.

Tuesday: 11:00 - 12:30, 3:45 - 5:15: School.

Wednesday 8:00 AM - 8:30 PM:  School, meetings, school.

Thursday: 11:00 - 12:30, 3:45 - 5:15: School.

Friday: 9:00 - 10:00: School, 2:00 - 6:00: Work

Saturday: 10:00 - 2:00: Work.

Any messages that might provoke a negative emotional response (i.e. “I hate you.”) should be directed to me during the following times: Sundays from 5pm-9pm, Mondays from 3pm-7pm, or Thursdays from 5pm-9pm.  I believe that this is a generous allowance of time in my schedule, so please consider your messages and schedule them accordingly.

I am under an appreciable amount of stress, especially with final exams coming up.  Also, work should be noted as a particularly important facet of my schedule because I’m trying to make enough money to support myself, get my own apartment, et cetera.  (Because if I don’t get an apartment where I can keep KarmicBalance with me prior to a specified date in June, it will force Barrett to “do something more heartbreaking and permanent than just giving him away or letting him go.” Yes, that is what he said.  No, I haven’t forgotten it.  And no, I’m not allowed to have KB on campus, sadly.)

I’m sure there are people in the world who go to school full-time and work full-time hours between two jobs.  I am not one of those people, and never have been.  Those people aren’t trying to devote 10+ hours a week to Organic Chemistry, and I’m at least self-aware enough to know my own limits. And if I were one of those people, it would not allow any time at all to field the spiteful messages that are obviously important enough to send to me while I’m stuck at work on a beautiful day that everyone ELSE is spending with family and cuddly soft things.

While I am clear on the concept that life is not fair, I would like to call attention to the practice of removing me from all friends and family down to some godforsaken bible-thumping gun-toting pickup-truck-driving redneck state and then being spiteful and petty. I understand that it’s my fault that I’m such a fun person to hate.  However, if you’ve a vested interest in seeing me GET OUT OF YOUR LIFE, then maybe you could consider that I have to deal with customers face-to-face, and having a swollen face from crying simply doesn’t build the kind of customer rapport I am seeking to build.  It is thus vitally important that any grief-provoking, passive-aggressive messages be held until such a time as I am free from work, because leaving early from work doesn’t make me independent any faster.

If you are one of the many people with something positive to say, I will gladly field those messages pretty much any time.

Thank you all for your attention and cooperation.

–Em

Play the song “Bend and break” by Keane right after playing the song “I’ve Been Waiting” by Matthew Sweet.

The pathology here is that my brain will conjure up every memory of every wonderful thing about first meeting Barrett (given the Matthew Sweet song), and then completely squash it with the Keane song, realizing he’ll never be there in the morning for me, ever again. This will cause a sudden collapse of all pieces of my psyche into a microsingularity.

Or, at least, I really wish it would, because this hurts so fucking bad.

Bend and Break:

When you, when you forget your name
When old faces all look the same
Meet me in the morning when you wake up
Meet me in the morning then you’ll wake up
If only I don’t bend and break
I’ll meet you on the other side, I’ll meet you in the light
If only I don’t suffocate, I’ll meet you in the morning when you wake

Lovesick bitter and hardened heart
Aching waiting for night waiting for life to start
Meet me in the morning when you wake up
Meet me in the morning then you’ll wake up

If only I don’t bend and break
I’ll meet you on the other side, I’ll meet you in the light
If only I don’t suffocate, I’ll meet you in the morning when you wake

If only I don’t bend and break
I’ll meet you on the other side, I’ll meet you in the light
If only I don’t suffocate, I’ll meet you in the morning when you wake

I’ll meet you on the other side, I’ll meet you in the light
If only I don’t suffocate, I’ll meet you in the morning when you wake

Especially when what you WANT to focus on isn’t what’s presenting as a more emergent problem.

I’m completely exhausted… I’ve had very little sleep lately, an organic chemistry exam on Thursday at 4pm, and I have had to move out of Barrett’s apartment and into a room on campus.

The upside is that my housing is now walking distance from classes. There are actually a lot of up-sides.

The major downside is that my change in environment is because Barrett’s had enough of me.

So… I moved, and am wracked with anxiety about all sorts of things (both rational and irrational). KB cannot live with me here. Lots of stuff is still at Barrett’s apartment. Barrett doesn’t call me “Sweetie” or “Elfy” anymore, he calls me “Emily”. When we talk at all. I’m within five miles of him and only seeing him briefly to let me into the apartment to get more of my stuff.

I’m a disaster… and it’s REALLY hard to focus on what NEEDS to be done for school.

On the plus side, I have plenty of psychotropic prescription drugs. I’m on an antidepressant which is working very well (until about 10PM when it starts to wear off…. ) I take adderall (YAY!) and Buspar (an anti-anxiety drug). The Adderall and Buspar are doing good things for me, though I’m still prone to randomly crying at stray thoughts.

I’m back to doing the “college thing”, but without the comfort/security of a permanent address to return to in the summer, and without family that I can return to if I choose. The only family I have in Alabama is Barrett… and he’s removing himself from that status. I’m alone here, lost as hell, and all I can do is hope I can focus enough to NOT THINK ABOUT IT.

I’m going to take a hot shower and get some sleep.

So I was at work, doing my thing, selling pet food. A very familiar-looking woman came up to me. “EMILY!! HI!! How are you!?!” I smiled brightly. “Doing great, how are you doing?” She smiled too, clearly thrilled to see me.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” I said, “But… where do I know you from?”

“JAIL!” she squealed REALLY LOUD, laughing.

One of the cashiers was walking past. “Jail, really?” he said, looking at us both.

*facepalm* Okay, great. How about next time we broadcast it over the store’s loudspeakers? Even better.

Fuckin’ EH.

The rest of the day has been pretty much consistent fail no matter what. I may be on antidepressants, but some days I just sincerely wish I owned a gun. It started with horrible dreams last night (about Barrett, his mom, me being a throw-away person… so much anguish and betrayal and abandonment all rolled up into one heart-wrenching dream sequence…) I got to work and did my best but it all started coming back to me… I took a few minutes to sit in the breakroom and cry from all the hurt that my own brain could inflict on me. Hurt that doesn’t really seem THAT far off, actually.

Then add Christy’s super-loud proclamation to the world… (She was totally too loud when I knew her before, too, she got on every last nerve in my body…) That’s just fucking great. I feel like hell, and it’s barely 5pm. And I have homework to do.

I’m going to try to study.

Barrett feels used, taken for granted. “I’m nothing but a paycheck to you,” he said.

I guess that makes me a high-priced whore.

I’ll add it to my resume.

And yeah, he called a lawyer two weeks ago.

You’re welcome, Karen. I know you’ve been pushing for this lately.