I don't know what to say or where to start
Dear Diary,
Hi. It's been a year and three months. And those entries were from the last happy days of my marriage. I haven't looked at this thing in all that time, because I didn't know where to start. I think I've also learned to keep my mouth shut and head down.
Well, there it is. I got divorced. But it's over, and I'm single, still in Beijing, still a translator, and still the same weight, height, and appearance. I cut off my brother over some drama, and we're not talking. It's kind of like a reboot of what I was like at 23, now that I've gone back and read the damn thing again. I was that...and now I'm this. And I'm still here posting in it. I'd best get used to the fact that I have a blog and will post in it from time to time, I guess.
It was an ugly divorce. And I won't spend too much time dwelling on it, but I was booted out, broke, angry, and single after she cheated on me. That was partially her fault, partially mine, because I told her to throw away everything I couldn't carry with me in one carload, and she smashed everything valuable in the house. So basically, I wiped the slate clean, started over, made back my savings, and then...
Rented an apartment, let my brother move in, and that didn't work out. Which is an understatement, because he broke doors and had the police called because of his music and got drunk and had strangers sleeping on the couch and just, no, ew. Then he told the landlord I did it, which kind of obviated any possibility of kicking him out. So I left with what I could carry...
And moved into another apartment with roommates, where I ended up getting booted after two months for smoking in the house. Yeah, I started that back up pretty heavily after the marriage started collapsing. That, and the fact that they couldn't find anyone to rent their 4,000/mo. room, which I personally think is the main reason (avoidance-much?).
I rented my own place in June, made my money back, and now, finally, almost a year and two weeks after moving out of Ex-Wife's, I'm right back where I was when I was 22 and rented my first apartment on my own. Things I do have that I didn't think I had then are many of the same friends, a shiny smartphone, a career translating movies, the bike, a vegetarian diet, a sputtering cynicism, savings, and a much, much less whiny approach to relationships. I no longer drink alone. So there has been some progress, mostly material, and I suppose I should be grateful for that.
I still have a messy house full of broken computers, a caffeine and cigarette addiction, trouble sleeping, a reputation for being weird, and a low tolerance for what I consider to be idiots, although the universe has been far less lenient with vindicating that intolerance than I think it was. So I'm working on toning it down, and can now go entire hours without facepalming and trying to gouge my eyes out. I still have no health insurance or plans to move back home.
Reading back over this has been...cathartic isn't the word...it isn't liberating...and it's not sobering...it's been a confirmation of what I have known to be true for the last year. I poured myself into that relationship, and stopped becoming who I should have become. Yes, I feel adrift. Yes, I poured myself into work and chemicals and flings after the end to get over the trauma, and I'm now over the brunt of it. I am not on speaking terms with either my ex-wife or my brother, and I need to be. I'm barely on speaking terms with myself. But I do know where I was headed before the marriage, and I know I need to go back and start over, alone, without designs on getting into another relationship right away.
The person I should be is one day away, every day. Yeah, I'm dredging up the cliches, yeah, but here's another one to cover my ass, it's Livejournal, and it's MINE. So, generally speaking, there's that, if you'd like it. I was supposed to be an open book, and I still want to be. So, Livejournal, I'm back, hopefully this time for good.
Hi. It's been a year and three months. And those entries were from the last happy days of my marriage. I haven't looked at this thing in all that time, because I didn't know where to start. I think I've also learned to keep my mouth shut and head down.
Well, there it is. I got divorced. But it's over, and I'm single, still in Beijing, still a translator, and still the same weight, height, and appearance. I cut off my brother over some drama, and we're not talking. It's kind of like a reboot of what I was like at 23, now that I've gone back and read the damn thing again. I was that...and now I'm this. And I'm still here posting in it. I'd best get used to the fact that I have a blog and will post in it from time to time, I guess.
It was an ugly divorce. And I won't spend too much time dwelling on it, but I was booted out, broke, angry, and single after she cheated on me. That was partially her fault, partially mine, because I told her to throw away everything I couldn't carry with me in one carload, and she smashed everything valuable in the house. So basically, I wiped the slate clean, started over, made back my savings, and then...
Rented an apartment, let my brother move in, and that didn't work out. Which is an understatement, because he broke doors and had the police called because of his music and got drunk and had strangers sleeping on the couch and just, no, ew. Then he told the landlord I did it, which kind of obviated any possibility of kicking him out. So I left with what I could carry...
And moved into another apartment with roommates, where I ended up getting booted after two months for smoking in the house. Yeah, I started that back up pretty heavily after the marriage started collapsing. That, and the fact that they couldn't find anyone to rent their 4,000/mo. room, which I personally think is the main reason (avoidance-much?).
I rented my own place in June, made my money back, and now, finally, almost a year and two weeks after moving out of Ex-Wife's, I'm right back where I was when I was 22 and rented my first apartment on my own. Things I do have that I didn't think I had then are many of the same friends, a shiny smartphone, a career translating movies, the bike, a vegetarian diet, a sputtering cynicism, savings, and a much, much less whiny approach to relationships. I no longer drink alone. So there has been some progress, mostly material, and I suppose I should be grateful for that.
I still have a messy house full of broken computers, a caffeine and cigarette addiction, trouble sleeping, a reputation for being weird, and a low tolerance for what I consider to be idiots, although the universe has been far less lenient with vindicating that intolerance than I think it was. So I'm working on toning it down, and can now go entire hours without facepalming and trying to gouge my eyes out. I still have no health insurance or plans to move back home.
Reading back over this has been...cathartic isn't the word...it isn't liberating...and it's not sobering...it's been a confirmation of what I have known to be true for the last year. I poured myself into that relationship, and stopped becoming who I should have become. Yes, I feel adrift. Yes, I poured myself into work and chemicals and flings after the end to get over the trauma, and I'm now over the brunt of it. I am not on speaking terms with either my ex-wife or my brother, and I need to be. I'm barely on speaking terms with myself. But I do know where I was headed before the marriage, and I know I need to go back and start over, alone, without designs on getting into another relationship right away.
The person I should be is one day away, every day. Yeah, I'm dredging up the cliches, yeah, but here's another one to cover my ass, it's Livejournal, and it's MINE. So, generally speaking, there's that, if you'd like it. I was supposed to be an open book, and I still want to be. So, Livejournal, I'm back, hopefully this time for good.