still no sign of land
I survived the move. I used professional movers, which was A Good Thing. My very patient and caring friends helped me pack (did most of it, frankly, sigh). I finally got rid of the dead car in the driveway (long story there), and got X to take as much of his stuff away as he wanted.
It was really painful, dealing with X. He wasn't a jerk about it, but I miss the good parts of the relationship we had, and I'm still furious that he gave up on me. I am responsible for making some huge mistakes about sensitive issues for him, no argument there, and he is apparently unable to forgive me for them, or believe that I can change some things as absolutely as I have. I sometimes wonder who he thinks I am... I don't think I'm quite what he believed me to be. But he's involved with someone new, and they're "serious," and I just have to suck it up and cope.
I'm not above hoping he gets dumped on his keester for making some of the same mistakes *he* made with me. I still miss him very much. However, all I've gotten out of our post-breakup interactions has been a lot of pain. I don't entirely blame him for the pain, for what that's worth. I've unwillingly concluded that, for the forseeable future, my best option is to pretend he doesn't exist. I wish I didn't have to do that, but I can't be "just" friends with him, and there's no chance for anything else. Dammit. It's very hard to stop hoping, but I have to. I'm working at it. Remembering how much it hurt to be in contact with him helps a little. It was ridiculously tempting to try to catch up on what's going on with his life, and catch him up on mine, but I avoided it. I'm not part of his life anymore, and getting a brief update before returning to radio silence struck me as asking for (emotional) trouble. I still care very much, but I have to step back and let go. And I hate it. I haven't seen him since May 30, and we've only spoken on the phone once since then. He has no idea that I dyed my hair radioactive-beet, and I occasionally wish I could see his reaction to it (*I* thought it was pretty out-of-character, but now I quite like it). Fortunately, it doesn't seem to take a lot of effort to avoid crossing paths. I don't go into his town of residence if I can help it, nor do I venture near his office during business hours. And he knows that I don't want to see him, so I expect that the few parties that we're both invited to will get negotiated via email.
I know I dwell on this too much, and I try not to obsess. There's a fine line between being honest about how and what I feel, and self-indulgence. I'm not at all sure where I am with respect to that line. If I avoid thinking about him/it, and distract myself, sometimes I get a nasty backlash: as soon as I stop doing whatever was distracting me, I feel horribly depressed and lonely. Sigh. Other times, distraction (and uglification) is the Right Thing.
Meanwhile, my shy neurotic kitty has mostly stopped hiding (She has now peed on the futon couch twice, and barfed on a bookshelf. I love her anyway, but I wish she didn' t make quite so merry with her bodily fluids.) My other cat is doing fine; when I had friends over, she moved from lap to lap, soaking up Bast-worship on behalf of the Goddess. Dirty job, but she's all too willing to take it on. I attempted to do laundry, and discovered that the washing machine doesn't want to spit out all its water at the end of the cycle... so I have ~5" of water in the tub and very soggy laundry that needs to be seriously wrung-out. The landlord will return from his business trip this weekend, so I hope it gets fixed. I treated myself to some more socks and underwear, though. And I'm obeying my mother's voice, which is reminding me to throw out the underwear with holes in it...
I like my new place a lot, except for the bumper-munching narrow driveway from Hell. Once I clear out some boxes, I'll be able to use the windowseat in the dining room, and store china, etc. in the built-in hutches therein. I have a horrendous lot of unpacking to do, and I need to start inviting people over to help and/or keep me company so that I stop avoiding it and get it done. When I'm alone, I tend to feel overwhelmed, and altho' I can push myself past it, it takes a lot of energy. Also, I have Too Much Stuff. I really feel out-of-control about it. I am out of control. I don't really know what I have, and I do know that I don't use or want everything I have. I weeded out some stuff before moving, but I still wasted time and energy (and money!) packing and moving things I should get rid of. So I need to stick to unpacking, and de-clutter as I unpack. I'm trying to hang on to the feelings of enough-is-enough frustration-cum-overwhelmedness-cum-embarrassment and use it to keep me motivated. (Hey sicklemoon next time you're in the neighborhood, you and/or klingonlandlady are invited for an encore Intervention!)
My reward to myself for surviving the move was to do makeup for a local G&S show, Ruddigore. It's exhausting (and not good for work-productivity; more on that in another post), but enormously fun and rewarding. Ageing a 20-year-old who is playing the contralto middle-aged lady has been rather challenging, but I have figured out her face, and it looks pretty good. The villain's fake moustache stays stuck on most of the time, until he rips it off at the end of Act I (and the actor is gracious about it, and knows how to work it if the damned thing falls off). The men's chorus have to change costume and makeup at intermission (along with 2 male leads), and they've been quite patient and helpful as I do the special FX on top of the ghoulish base to make them look convincingly dead. It's been a race to get them madeup in time, but aside from one rough night, we've managed. The cast, overall, has been really nice -- no divas, no egos, and lots of fun. I helped "design" hair for the women's chorus (mostly because I hate it when it looks like they just put it up in a bun as an afterthought -- I'd rather they looked "styled" in some way), and they've been quite nice about that, even when it came to pinning on some curly switches to get a more Regency look. I just hope the producer forgives me for what it cost to restock the makeup kit and add on ghost supplies... I probably spent close to $200. Oooch.
[BTW, now would be a good time to mention discretion. A number of Ruddigore cast-n-crew are on my friends list, but I don't think I've mentioned my nom-de-LJ to all of you. It'll be all too easy to figure out who I am from this post! But I'd rather my real name and locale stayed out of any comments, and that you help me a low profile. I am a contract employee just now, and will be looking for another job in the not-too-distant future, and I don't want a potential employer to be privy to my LJ, nor do I want to make all of my posts friends-only. So... if you don't mind... please keep in mind that I'm not entirely "out" about my writings here, and respect that. Thanks.]
More in next installment, about depression-management (ugh), work, and narrow driveways.
It was really painful, dealing with X. He wasn't a jerk about it, but I miss the good parts of the relationship we had, and I'm still furious that he gave up on me. I am responsible for making some huge mistakes about sensitive issues for him, no argument there, and he is apparently unable to forgive me for them, or believe that I can change some things as absolutely as I have. I sometimes wonder who he thinks I am... I don't think I'm quite what he believed me to be. But he's involved with someone new, and they're "serious," and I just have to suck it up and cope.
I'm not above hoping he gets dumped on his keester for making some of the same mistakes *he* made with me. I still miss him very much. However, all I've gotten out of our post-breakup interactions has been a lot of pain. I don't entirely blame him for the pain, for what that's worth. I've unwillingly concluded that, for the forseeable future, my best option is to pretend he doesn't exist. I wish I didn't have to do that, but I can't be "just" friends with him, and there's no chance for anything else. Dammit. It's very hard to stop hoping, but I have to. I'm working at it. Remembering how much it hurt to be in contact with him helps a little. It was ridiculously tempting to try to catch up on what's going on with his life, and catch him up on mine, but I avoided it. I'm not part of his life anymore, and getting a brief update before returning to radio silence struck me as asking for (emotional) trouble. I still care very much, but I have to step back and let go. And I hate it. I haven't seen him since May 30, and we've only spoken on the phone once since then. He has no idea that I dyed my hair radioactive-beet, and I occasionally wish I could see his reaction to it (*I* thought it was pretty out-of-character, but now I quite like it). Fortunately, it doesn't seem to take a lot of effort to avoid crossing paths. I don't go into his town of residence if I can help it, nor do I venture near his office during business hours. And he knows that I don't want to see him, so I expect that the few parties that we're both invited to will get negotiated via email.
I know I dwell on this too much, and I try not to obsess. There's a fine line between being honest about how and what I feel, and self-indulgence. I'm not at all sure where I am with respect to that line. If I avoid thinking about him/it, and distract myself, sometimes I get a nasty backlash: as soon as I stop doing whatever was distracting me, I feel horribly depressed and lonely. Sigh. Other times, distraction (and uglification) is the Right Thing.
Meanwhile, my shy neurotic kitty has mostly stopped hiding (She has now peed on the futon couch twice, and barfed on a bookshelf. I love her anyway, but I wish she didn' t make quite so merry with her bodily fluids.) My other cat is doing fine; when I had friends over, she moved from lap to lap, soaking up Bast-worship on behalf of the Goddess. Dirty job, but she's all too willing to take it on. I attempted to do laundry, and discovered that the washing machine doesn't want to spit out all its water at the end of the cycle... so I have ~5" of water in the tub and very soggy laundry that needs to be seriously wrung-out. The landlord will return from his business trip this weekend, so I hope it gets fixed. I treated myself to some more socks and underwear, though. And I'm obeying my mother's voice, which is reminding me to throw out the underwear with holes in it...
I like my new place a lot, except for the bumper-munching narrow driveway from Hell. Once I clear out some boxes, I'll be able to use the windowseat in the dining room, and store china, etc. in the built-in hutches therein. I have a horrendous lot of unpacking to do, and I need to start inviting people over to help and/or keep me company so that I stop avoiding it and get it done. When I'm alone, I tend to feel overwhelmed, and altho' I can push myself past it, it takes a lot of energy. Also, I have Too Much Stuff. I really feel out-of-control about it. I am out of control. I don't really know what I have, and I do know that I don't use or want everything I have. I weeded out some stuff before moving, but I still wasted time and energy (and money!) packing and moving things I should get rid of. So I need to stick to unpacking, and de-clutter as I unpack. I'm trying to hang on to the feelings of enough-is-enough frustration-cum-overwhelmedness-cum-embarrassment and use it to keep me motivated. (Hey sicklemoon next time you're in the neighborhood, you and/or klingonlandlady are invited for an encore Intervention!)
My reward to myself for surviving the move was to do makeup for a local G&S show, Ruddigore. It's exhausting (and not good for work-productivity; more on that in another post), but enormously fun and rewarding. Ageing a 20-year-old who is playing the contralto middle-aged lady has been rather challenging, but I have figured out her face, and it looks pretty good. The villain's fake moustache stays stuck on most of the time, until he rips it off at the end of Act I (and the actor is gracious about it, and knows how to work it if the damned thing falls off). The men's chorus have to change costume and makeup at intermission (along with 2 male leads), and they've been quite patient and helpful as I do the special FX on top of the ghoulish base to make them look convincingly dead. It's been a race to get them madeup in time, but aside from one rough night, we've managed. The cast, overall, has been really nice -- no divas, no egos, and lots of fun. I helped "design" hair for the women's chorus (mostly because I hate it when it looks like they just put it up in a bun as an afterthought -- I'd rather they looked "styled" in some way), and they've been quite nice about that, even when it came to pinning on some curly switches to get a more Regency look. I just hope the producer forgives me for what it cost to restock the makeup kit and add on ghost supplies... I probably spent close to $200. Oooch.
[BTW, now would be a good time to mention discretion. A number of Ruddigore cast-n-crew are on my friends list, but I don't think I've mentioned my nom-de-LJ to all of you. It'll be all too easy to figure out who I am from this post! But I'd rather my real name and locale stayed out of any comments, and that you help me a low profile. I am a contract employee just now, and will be looking for another job in the not-too-distant future, and I don't want a potential employer to be privy to my LJ, nor do I want to make all of my posts friends-only. So... if you don't mind... please keep in mind that I'm not entirely "out" about my writings here, and respect that. Thanks.]
More in next installment, about depression-management (ugh), work, and narrow driveways.