I went out to dinner with a cousin and her friends last week. One of them was a woman who hasn’t been out with us in a while. She remarked that I was doing so much better than the first time I went out to dinner with them.
Now, to be fair, that’s not entirely true. The first time I went out to dinner with them was when I was home over Christmas back in 2015. Yes, I had just found out my marriage was down the tubes and I had been cut off financially although he was paying what he thought he would owe in support. However, I had a tidy little nest egg set aside, my kids were happy, we were still living in our nice big house in Virginia, my kids’ lives hadn’t been completely torn apart by their cheating father, and life was going on quite pleasantly.
I think what she meant was that I was doing so much better than the first time we went out for dinner after I moved back home. Yes, that was a little rough.
I left my home. I left almost all of my possessions. My kids’ lives were completely upended. My daughter was miserable and heartbroken. I had no job, no money. My nest egg was entirely plundered in order to pay my bills.
I remember counting the months, because someone over on Chump Lady had recounted the story of how her friend had told her that even though everything seemed so bleak at that moment she would look back in six months and marvel over how far she had come. My amazing life didn’t come at the six month mark. If we’re talking since D-Day my amazing life didn’t come at the one year mark!
I had a divorce from hell that lingered on forever. Twenty-six months, three weeks, from D-Day until the divorce trial.Twenty-eight months, two weeks from D-Day until the actual divorce.
Six months after D-Day I was doing fine for the most part. I had plans. My kids were doing well. Life was okay. Different but okay.
Ten months to the day after D-Day and my life fell apart. My world shattered. My kids’ lives were shattered. I spent the next ten months trying to fight my way back. No, honestly, I spent the next ten months wanting to die and wishing that my life was over and I didn’t have to go on anymore because everything sucked.
A little more than a year ago I started my first full-time job in over 16 years. I was nervous. I didn’t know anybody. I was the new girl. Repeatedly.
Now I fit right in wherever I go. They love to see me. I even have a teller balancing dance for one of them.
Do you remember me crying that I couldn’t balance my drawer and that I was probably going to be fired so I may as well find a new job? Not long ago I found out that I got the new position I applied for. I’ll be working in a different department, behind the scenes basically. I’ll be working at the fraud desk. I’m actually really excited about it. It’s not a whole lot more money but I think I will like it a lot better. It sounds very interesting and it also sounds like I will be busy most of the day.
That’s the worst part of being a teller- being bored. Some days are fairly busy and the time flies by. But a lot of days are really slow and those days drag by. Plus I really don’t want to have to deal with customers.
The really nice thing about leaving though is how sad everyone else is. That sounds really egotistical, doesn’t it? I’ve had so many people tell me they hate seeing me go. I’ve heard how awesome I am at my job and how much people love working with me. It turns out I am fairly competent and many people request me. My manager hated to let me go; she tried to get my start date pushed back to 2019. She said she told them she wanted to tell them what an awful employee I was and that my attendance was terrible but she couldn’t. I’ve had numerous co-workers say, “Noooooo!” when they’ve heard I was leaving and they haven’t even worked with me in months! I guess it’s the realization that I won’t be around at all once I begin my new position.
Also nice? I will get my very own desk! I’m hoping I will be able to put pictures on it. I have never been able to display pictures of my kids because I’ve never had a job with a desk since having children.
I will also have a single place to go to work every day and I will have a phone number just for me.
Plus, I’m fighting fraud so how great is that?
As for the rest of my life? My kids are doing okay. Rock Star has struggled. She finds her footing and then struggles some more. Then finds her footing once again. She only has a few more months and then she graduates and it’s off to college. Where she will actually go is anyone’s guess. At one point she was adamant she wanted to go out to Utah for school. Now she’s worried she will be homesick because she won’t be able to come home more than 3 times a year. So she may actually end up going to an in-state school after all.
Picasso is having some issues with algebra II and biology. His biology teacher actually was my teacher my freshman year. He was not a young man when he taught me. Picasso finds him boring but also complains that he doesn’t teach everything that is on the test. Welcome to life, my child! Sometimes you have to take the initiative and actually read on your own. He hates gym. He has a girlfriend. It’s been going on for four months and he bought her stuff for Valentine’s Day. I’ve never met her.
My mobster is still amazing. How could I not love this man? He called my kids’ freaking school to inquire as to why on earth they hadn’t canceled classes in the wake of the shooting threats!
He calls me cutie and baby doll and beautiful and gorgeous. He makes me breakfast and sends me the best Valentine’s Day gifts. He even sends my daughter flowers to cheer her up.
I realized not long ago that he laughs at my jokes. I mean, I knew he laughed at my jokes. It just hit me when he was laughing at something I had said, that CF never really thought I was funny, I guess. He never laughed at anything I said. Actually I do remember two times when he laughed at something I said.
The first time was waaaaay back at the beginning of our marriage. We were watching Dean and Joann on one of those home repair shows. He had a level and was putting it against some insulation. I asked incredulously, “Are you trying to make sure it’s plumb, Dean?” I still don’t know what Dean was doing but CF thought that was pretty funny.
The second time was years later. He put on some dark sunglasses, think Arnold as the Terminator. I looked over at him and in my best Arnold impersonation said, “I’ll be back.” He smiled at that.
I don’t know what was wrong with him. I think I’m hilarious so I don’t know why he didn’t. Yet another shortcoming of his.
My mother, Thelma, is still running around in Florida. Her partner in crime, Louise, was with her in February. They went to New Orleans, Biloxi, and a whole lot of dinners up at the Elks Club. I’m glad she’s having a good time but I’ll also be glad to see her next month.
That’s my update. We’re still alive and kicking. Life is getting better bit by bit. I’m still not financially stable (I definitely depend on those support checks) but I’m hoping I’ll get there eventually.