It’s Monday, and for most of us that means going to work for the first time in 2 days. Ugh, right? I feel like that’s a fairly accurate statement.
Which leads to the awkward part for me; I legitimately enjoy Mondays. I like going to work. Again, not some freakish unicorn, I’ve worked hard to create a life that I don’t constantly want to escape.
I used to dread Monday like a bill collector, a root canal, or something else not fun. Now, I get to go to work and know that I’m helping. Now, I get to go to work but I leave it there, I don’t bring it home with me. Now, I am respecting my own boundaries so that I don’t burn out.
Plus, it’s like 50 degrees and sunny outside and that reminds me that brighter days are coming. They are. And I look forward to work.
My five-year old son punched me in the nose this morning.
He was tired and frustrated and I was trying to rush him out the door. He gets his temper from me. None of this excuses what he did, but at least I can understand.
I thought, Wow, being punched in the face is a great way to start the day. This will obviously be a shit day.
I had no idea.
That afternoon, I got a call from the doctor’s office. My culture came back.
Two weeks ago I had sex for the first time in years, since getting divorced from my son’s father.
After the sex, I got a Urinary Tract Infection. I was uncomfortable, in pain, and I couldn’t sleep. It’s been two weeks, and I still haven’t slept much.
Now I get a call from the doctor’s office, and it turns out I have herpes.
I want to die.
Instead, I am sitting at work in tears.
He says he didn’t know he had it. We used a condom, but he performed oral sex on me. That’s the only way this could have happened.
I like him. At least, I think I do. He’s sweet and nice and he’s been treating me the way I wish my ex-husband had.
Do I still?
I don’t know. I feel like I can’t know.
Tears are rolling down my cheeks.
He’s out of the state for work for the next week. He sent me a text message a bit ago. I told him to fuck off. He called me. I told him the culture came back positive, but I couldn’t say what it was positive for out loud. I’m at work. I’m embarrassed.
Because of my lovely picture (which is in constant need of maintenance), I cannot talk to many people about the constant weight on my shoulders. This situation is not helped by the recent loss of the two closest friendships I have, which happened as these things do, with only small amounts of shared blame.
I’ve been limping along for a while now, managing occasionally to feel like life is worthwhile and these wonderful times of hope are mostly because of my wonderful husband, the one person in the world that I am not afraid to cry with, the one person I know will not think less of me, or dismiss my pain.
This wonderful husband just got a short-term contract (four months) in a city six hours from here. It is a wonderful opportunity for him, one which I happily encouraged him to take, but I cannot go with him for various reasons.
During the day this seems like something I can manage; after all, he’ll still be here on the weekends, and it’s only for a little while.
But at night, the darkness invades my heart, and I cling tightly to him, terrified by the thought of being apart from him for even one night. Because along with being my best friend and soul mate, he is frequently my salvation.
It is because of him that I have not dropped out of grad school under the overwhelming apathy that threatens to prevent me from finishing assignments.
It is because of him that I can sort through my often tangled feelings and come out the other end feeling like I might be okay.
It is with him, and only him, that I can say that haunting word “depression” and not feel like I have to have a treatment plan all mapped out for his perusal.
Five days a week without him is five mornings I have to get out of bed and go to class. It’s 80 waking hours that I cannot debrief in his arms. It’s five evenings of dread, knowing what’s coming when I get too tired to fight it off, and it’s five nights of hugging my pillow, praying sleep will come before the melancholy attacks.
I graduated from college with a bachelor of science in psychology in August, at the tender age of 38, with a goal of going to grad school.
Don’t read this and think that I’m some kind of weirdo with lots of self-confidence, because I’m really not. I studied, I worked, I did the whole parenting thing, and I commuted, and I graduated.
If that’s where my academic career ends I will be okay with it.
Sort of.
You see, I want to help people.
I’ve always been a helper and I see no reason for that to change now.
This time is different because this is like a real, adult career move. I want to be a Marriage and Family Therapist. When I look at society and all the things wrong with it, to me, it comes back to familial problems. And I want to help.
So, I asked for help (look at all the adult skills I’m using! give me a gold star!).
I asked a professor, a boss, a co-fish at the Band, and Aunt Becky to write my letters of recommendation. I’m going to frame them. (For real, if you ever wonder how others see you, ask them to write a letter like this for you, you will feel so damn good.)
And with those in hand, I hit submit.
On January 24, I received a call saying that I had earned myself an interview at said school!
And I am thrilled! And terrified!
But thrilled!
And if I don’t get in, that’s okay. I will continue to help, and I will continue to find other ways to grow. Maybe I’ll become a yoga instructor. Or a professional chef.
Maybe I’ll go back to college and get a whole different degree in something completely different. I have no idea.
And I’m happy with that. Tell me some way you’ve challenged yourself to grow recently?
I’m not usually one who talks about my dreams with anyone – mostly because they’re excruciatingly challenging to listen to, so I imagine that when I try, my listener is bored to pieces.
So I’ll refrain from the long-and-winding dreams and as you about this:
Why the hell am I all of a sudden dreaming about my exes – and I’m talking OLD SCHOOL exes? I’m dreaming of getting back together with them – it’s all night most nights right now.
