palindrome birthday

 
 

Dear Internet,

A couple of admin things before we get going:

  • Item the first: I’ve minimalize the site design after listening to a podcast on brutualist websites. Long time readers may have noticed the site design has been getting less cluttered over the years and now it’s stripped down to as basic as possible unless I dropped out of WordPress entirely rendering all entries static but with nearly 1300 entries that is not happening anytime soon. Let me know in the comments if there is anything broken or missing.
  • Item the second: You may have also noticed there is now an audio option in addition to the text. Starting this post going forward there will be mp3 available to download of the entry. In short, I’m turning my blog entries into a podcast and don’t be too surprised if the podcasts are a bit rough in the beginning. You (should) be able to download the mp3 here, iTunes, and LibSyn SoundCloud. Why now? Numerous articles and research discuss the changing ways of how people access content online. This also mirrors how I, and my peeps, access information. Newletters (you will find the subscription to mine at the bottom of this entry) and podcasts are now the new hotness. Lastly, turning my blog into a podcast has been something I’ve been wanting to do for ages.

On with the show.


Today is a palindrome birthday – I turn 44. Celebration will be chill until TheExHusband comes to visit in a few weeks for the ever continuation of Lisa-mas. However, presents and cards have been rolling in and I feel beloved by many. Thank you.1


No one is going to be shocked (and some might argue this is a long time coming) TheExHusband and I are, again, moving towards a romantic relationship. Part of the reason why I moved back to the east coast was to deliberate on whether starting a romantic relationship with TheExHusband was because I truly loved him or he was a crutch or he was a familiar.

In the last six months as my brain became less fuzzy, I ruminated what it meant to love and be loved. Many years ago I asked Rob G. if he and his partner stopped having sex for whatever reason, would he stay with her and he answered a quick “yes.” I swore to him I could never be in a sexless relationship, or a passionless relationship, and I would find someone who could fulfill both the sexy times and my intellectual hunger. All but TheExHusband had failed to fulfill both requirements. (I can feel Rob’s virtual head pat as if he knew one day I would know the truth about love.)

As I started unpacking at my new abode, I came across diaries from years ago where I do nothing but complain about how men seemingly only want sex and nothing to do with my brain. This complaint goes on for years, regardless of my relationship status at the time of the writing. It became interesting to me how the tables have now turned: I want nothing but sex (so I think) now and fuck all the intellectual side.

I know the psychological reasons why my behaviour is this way (sex = being loved) but at the end of the day this is not what I really want. I urgently need brain stimulation which leads me to having better sex and we shant be surprised it is never the other way around.

So I’m in a pickle. Sex with TheBassist was out of this world but I felt as if I could never get him to talk about anything other than day to day events.2 Sex, on the other hand, with TheExHusband had become nearly impossible and unfulfilling but he could stimulate my brain like no other. After our split in August 2014, he hied himself off to a therapist, got on Wellbutrin, admitted what he has always known – he was depressed. He has reported back to me now that Wellbutrin is coursing through his system, his sexual drive has returned 10 fold from its previous state.

I lived with TheExHusband from September 2015 until last month. During that period not a sexual event happened other than benign snuggles, forehead kisses, and the occasional hand holding. We both agreed participating in any kind of sensual romps would be detrimental to my mental health while spurring on more confusion for him which obviously neither of us wanted so we remained chaste. Pinky swear.

When I was offered my current gig, there was a lot of discussion between my brain and I on whether or not to take the position. The more I pro and conned it, talked it over with TheExHusband and friends, the more another thought took residence in my brain: I was deeply in love with TheExHusband and leaving him would tear me apart.

TheExHusband loves me. He really loves me. He has never wavered his support of me. He has taken care of me when I hit rock bottom and cheered me on as things started to progress and get better. He always has my best interests at heart; he likes making me happy. He likes making me laugh. He wants to go on adventures with me and eat the world (another criteria I have in a potential mate). His love isn’t the love of fiery suns but a slow burning ember that never seems to fade.

Most importantly, he never left me when things got really bad.

I heavily took stock in this. Isn’t this what most of us want? Someone who is our companion and mate, who understands us near completely, makes us laugh, and gives us unwavering support in our choices and our life? I know I do. I know I never stopped loving TheExHusband, never wavered for my own support of him, never not wanted to make him laugh. I could never imagine my life without him and even wrote that if you date me, he comes along as part of the package.

TheExHusband and I have our own rituals, our own language, our own sense of security in the other. Our own world where we happily accept others to visit.

TheExHusband has his faults just as I have my faults, but at the end of the day if there is anyone I want to be with, it is him.

TheBassist may have been the one, but TheExHusband is my always.3


Long time readers may be puzzled by these turn of events. For months I banged on TheBassist was the one, I would take him back in a heartbeat, and I was tragically in love with him. Those were things I believed then and those were my truths. I could forgive myself for my behaviour during the course of our relationship, I could even understand some of his behaviours such as the birthday incident4, but I cannot shake the pain of him dumping me onto TheExHusband’s lap because TheBassist could not take care of me when I was so very sick and then wiping his hands of me. What also breaks my heart is that after the big show of telling me he wanted to check in on me to make sure I was okay after we broke up, he never did. How do I know? I asked his best friends. I told TheBassist all that time ago, in the beginning, I was his ideal on a pedestal who he could not handle the real and everyday me. Even his mom agreed. TheBassist vehemently disagreed with my observation and yet, here we are, a fantasy who has been put to rest.


It’s now going on two months since I planted myself in Connecticut and while I’m an hour away from TheBassist’s home, nothing has propelled me to attempt a visit. There has been a single time I have driven past his exit, on my way to IKEA, and I flipped it off in true Lisa fashion. Childish? Sure. But boy did it feel good.

Another indicator my attitude has changed is the slight PTSD I have of olive green Subaru Outbacks. They seem to be car d’jour around these parts and I am forever checking to see if one’s back window is covered in stickers. So far, the coast has been clear.

I am human above all things and I cannot tell a lie that I do want to see him if only to tell him off. Lisa Rabey Is Always Right™ and my ego must never be bruised. TheExHusband predicted ages ago TheBassist dumping me had less to do with me being in love and more to do with a dent in my believed perfect ego. I am begrudgingly hold this may be slightly true.

I still maintain TheBassist breaking up with me was one of the smartest moves he has ever made and without that breakup, the crash would have been much worse.


I often need to experience things to get the things to stick no matter how many times someone tells me it is so. e.g. I need to touch the hot stove to believe it is a hot stove.

Most of the human population, upon reading my exercise in love on TheExHusband may be thinking to themselves: This is what is known to be love. We know that it ebbs and flows. This is a universal truth. It is not always just the hot burning passion but it is also vomit and money woes. If you want the treasure you have to fight the orcs.

I hurt a lot of people getting here and there is rarely a time I haven’t cried when thinking about everything I put TheExHusband through but he will tell you two things: The first being I was mentally sick for a long time and much of my actions were based upon the disease and not the real me and his depression caused a lot of rift he refused to believe was there also for a very long time.

TheExHusband and I discuss this on occasion and we’re brutally honest with the other. I am not afraid to admit that in some warped way going through all of this is what smacked me in the head about love, I am every so glad it happened.

xoxo,
Lisa

P.S. The track isn’t bad but it’s still little rough. I’ve been editing for about six to seven hours today so next time it will be better.


1. Last year’s birthday was interesting. TheBassist took me the mall, bought his children presents, and couldn’t even be arsed to make or get me a card. He had a snit when I rescued a rather dismal day by helping his family sell strawberries and shortcakes at a church fete. When I told him how I felt, and that I wanted a birthday do-over, he promised with a “sure, sure” and yet, nothing happened.
2. Let’s call this a truce on the he said/she said. This is and was my truth.
3. When I first mentioned to TheExHusband he was my always, he thought it was terribly sweet yet he could not get the image of the Always maxi pad brand out of his head. One day whilst shopping  I came across the lady parts aisle, took a picture of the brand and sent him said image. He giggled.
4. What was the point of doing anything special for me if I was only going to leave and break TheBassist’s heart over and over again. Thin, sure, but I understand this may have been his reasoning.

 

 

This day in Lisa-Universe: 2014, 20142012, 20021999

 

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And it slows, but for a dream

Dear Internet,

It is nearly midnight.

After my confession, and the cascade of tears that followed, I feel more at ease in my skin. Plans were made for a birthday dinner with my brother and husband, apparently a new family tradition, at The Chop House. Retail therapy cures everything, so before dinner I headed to the mall where I bought myself a new dress and shoes for the evening. The shoes, which while Instagram’d to death, are nude cork wedges. Totally un-Lisa like. But I’m tired of being Lisa-like, so the shoes were bought. While perusing the racks at Macy’s, I considered shoplifting as something also un Lisa-like, but decided that buying shoes that were not my style was more in speed with change. I didn’t fancy spending my 40th birthday night in jail.
Continue Reading

6/16/2000 12:18:22 AM

the dark side
okay. paul had set up m*sql on the box so that i could update automagically off of a webbrowser and then the box crashed and things have been — well weird. i’m in love with blogger these days — the uses for it — and i have succumbed to the evil forces by using it now for THREE freaking websites. silly me. you know times are a changing. i have removed netscape from my machine completely (4.73 seems to NOT like me — and nothing seems stable) and am using IE5.5 almost exclusively now. I say almost as i still use netscape at work on my sparc.

today i had signed onto AOL (yes yes i do run aol sometimes. i had signed up nearly 2 years ago when i was working for slip.net to test connectivity problems with customers) and had forgotten that i had signed up to beta test their new software — and somehow i had gotten accepted to their list (i wonder what they base their criteria on — or the fact that my screen name is linuxgurl) and was reading about the new beta tests when i got messaged by some kid. literally a kid HALF my freaking age. there are many reasons why i don’t sign onto aol anymore (being that i get a lot of messages from newbies due to my screen-name being what it is) and i just felt so OLD.

i’ve been thinking more so about this in the last few days since i turned the big 2-8. I celebrated it with a few friends from work who shared the same birthday and one of them had turned 31. I asked him how it was like being over 30 now and he said he didn’t care. Turning 21 was the big one — after that it was smooth coasting the whole way. and with me, it’s not like that. sometimes i look at paul and wonder — we’ve been together for nearly a year — and NOW it hits me he’s 8 years younger than me. The irony is in a way, i was always the oldest amongst my friends when I was growing up — most of them were always a year or two younger than me. i kept thinking of all my friends from Michigan — josh, sherry, shelly, shane, mike, and scads of people who i don’t remember anymore. Jenni forwarded me the info for my 10 year reunion next month. i don’t know whether to laugh or cry about the details.

healthy as a horse
for months, nay years, i’ve been living under the impression that i’ve been sick with various ailments. none of them terribly serious but concerning for ones health to be sure. within two weeks i got told that the previous doctors assessments were *wrong* and that i’m healthy as a horse.

i’m confused.

and you are probably wondering, why are you confused? that is awesome news. but that still doesn’t explain what seemingly is wrong with me!

you see, about 10 years ago, the doctor confirmed that i had polycystic ovarian disease. this means (basically) i have too much male hormones in my body (which accounts for my agressivness) and causes cysts to be built up on my ovaries causing me to not get my period regularly AND that i could have problems having children. i schedule an appointment with a doctor who specializes in PCOD and i’m excited. all my damn problems seemingly are caused by one singular thing. she talks to me, checks me out. blood pressure normal. has me get blood drawn. slaps me on a new pill that is supposed to make my life easier and bearable — and then…

i start my period 2 weeks early. i’ve been so moody pauls started calling me dr jeckyl and mrs hyde. and the doctor called me to tell me that my blood tests were normal and there was nothing to indicate that i had PCOD. nothing. i’m clean. no problems. so why do i exhibit signs if my blood tests are fine? its frustrating. i’m so sick of my body reacting violently to even the smallest amount of stress. i’m sick of always being grouchy. no one, i mean no one, can be this much of a fucking hypochondriac.
geez.

so now i’m taking my tired ass to bed.

x0x0x0xx0
lisa