Dear livejournal,
I'm sorry I've been neglecting you. I guess Facebook has met my needs on most things, since I tend to post one liners and movie quotes most of the time. It feels like I don't have enough going on in my life to fill a journal entry. But, looking back I see that I have had things going on that I haven't bothered to write out, and I need to write them out!
I got a job earlier this year and I thought it was great. It paid really well, and it involved working full time, and overtime, then getting a month or two off at a time, (paid, with benefits) then going back to work. It was going really well, but they didn't have as much work as they'd planned. We were getting furloughed earlier and earlier, and finally they told me they weren't calling us back to work. So, I'm out of work again, and at one of the worst times for job hunting in history. This is a real bummer, man.
Then, a couple of weeks ago, I decided I just could not live with Pookiee anymore. He didn't do anything differently than he always does, but it just got to be to much. Because I don't have a job, he thinks it's justifiable to treat me with no respect, and blame me for everything wrong with the world. Seriously, not just everything wrong with my life, or our relationship, but with the world. After he yelled at me for an hour because a Bon Jovi song got stuck in his head, I started packing my clothes. I have no money and thought I had nowhere to go, but my mom said I could stay with her, and I'd have my own room there and everything. But as bad as Pookiee is, living with my parents would not be better. For one thing, I'm 37 years old, and have been on my own since I was 18. It hurts my pride as well as putting a major damper on my sense of freedom to think of going back to my mommie's house. Plus, they smoke there, and I'm allergic to secondhand smoke. I used to have a cough like a cancer patient, and now that it's finally gone, I dread the thought of going back to it. And then there's the dogs. Mom already has two, and I have two, so I'd have to make a choice like Sophie, if I was even allowed to have one of them. I think legally I wouldn't even be allowed the one, since that would make 3 dogs in one household. And finally, there's my stuff. I would have to leave a lot of it at Pookiee's house, and every time I came to get some of it I'd have to argue with him. Not to mention, he has a very childish spitefulness that would make me nervous that he was taking his anger out on my stuff. He's done it many times in the past. Still, despite all of that, I was packed up and out the door, when he finally started crying and saying he didn't want this to happen. He listened to my complaints for the first time, without interrupting or belittling my stance.He said he didn't realize I felt that way. He's always drunk when he starts the blame game, so he doesn't know how ridiculous he sounds. And he doesn't know why I take it so hard. So I decided to give him one last chance. I know I have somewhere to go now, and I'm prepared to leave at a moment's notice, if I feel like I need to.
I know I've defended him before, saying each time that he's getting better. And he is. Not just better than he was 3 years ago. He's gotten incrementally better. So, better than he was two weeks ago equals ten times better than he was 3 years ago. Still, we aren't in the same place we were 10 years ago, when we loved each other so much that we couldn't bear to be apart for even a few hours. When I knew he cared about me more than anyone else. When we supported each other in everything, and most of all, when I knew I cared about him. Nowadays I'm not sure how much I care about him, and how much I'm just entangled with him. I've lived with him since I was 21, and I'm 37 now. That's my whole adult life. Even if I could handle it financially, it's hard to tear yourself away from someone when all of your possessions are shared possessions, and all of your emotions are shared emotions. And it's not that I'm afraid of it, it's just that I don't know where to begin.
So, that's an update for ya LJ. I think it makes up for some of the lost time betwee
I got a job earlier this year and I thought it was great. It paid really well, and it involved working full time, and overtime, then getting a month or two off at a time, (paid, with benefits) then going back to work. It was going really well, but they didn't have as much work as they'd planned. We were getting furloughed earlier and earlier, and finally they told me they weren't calling us back to work. So, I'm out of work again, and at one of the worst times for job hunting in history. This is a real bummer, man.
Then, a couple of weeks ago, I decided I just could not live with Pookiee anymore. He didn't do anything differently than he always does, but it just got to be to much. Because I don't have a job, he thinks it's justifiable to treat me with no respect, and blame me for everything wrong with the world. Seriously, not just everything wrong with my life, or our relationship, but with the world. After he yelled at me for an hour because a Bon Jovi song got stuck in his head, I started packing my clothes. I have no money and thought I had nowhere to go, but my mom said I could stay with her, and I'd have my own room there and everything. But as bad as Pookiee is, living with my parents would not be better. For one thing, I'm 37 years old, and have been on my own since I was 18. It hurts my pride as well as putting a major damper on my sense of freedom to think of going back to my mommie's house. Plus, they smoke there, and I'm allergic to secondhand smoke. I used to have a cough like a cancer patient, and now that it's finally gone, I dread the thought of going back to it. And then there's the dogs. Mom already has two, and I have two, so I'd have to make a choice like Sophie, if I was even allowed to have one of them. I think legally I wouldn't even be allowed the one, since that would make 3 dogs in one household. And finally, there's my stuff. I would have to leave a lot of it at Pookiee's house, and every time I came to get some of it I'd have to argue with him. Not to mention, he has a very childish spitefulness that would make me nervous that he was taking his anger out on my stuff. He's done it many times in the past. Still, despite all of that, I was packed up and out the door, when he finally started crying and saying he didn't want this to happen. He listened to my complaints for the first time, without interrupting or belittling my stance.He said he didn't realize I felt that way. He's always drunk when he starts the blame game, so he doesn't know how ridiculous he sounds. And he doesn't know why I take it so hard. So I decided to give him one last chance. I know I have somewhere to go now, and I'm prepared to leave at a moment's notice, if I feel like I need to.
I know I've defended him before, saying each time that he's getting better. And he is. Not just better than he was 3 years ago. He's gotten incrementally better. So, better than he was two weeks ago equals ten times better than he was 3 years ago. Still, we aren't in the same place we were 10 years ago, when we loved each other so much that we couldn't bear to be apart for even a few hours. When I knew he cared about me more than anyone else. When we supported each other in everything, and most of all, when I knew I cared about him. Nowadays I'm not sure how much I care about him, and how much I'm just entangled with him. I've lived with him since I was 21, and I'm 37 now. That's my whole adult life. Even if I could handle it financially, it's hard to tear yourself away from someone when all of your possessions are shared possessions, and all of your emotions are shared emotions. And it's not that I'm afraid of it, it's just that I don't know where to begin.
So, that's an update for ya LJ. I think it makes up for some of the lost time betwee