Diary of Me: Divorced, Dating, & Delirious

The week went by relatively fast; the kids have been pretty good, I've been sleeping pretty well, and the house is relatively clean. I've had a pretty good week...until today. I just have one question: are you allowed to feel like sh*t on Fridays? Because today is Friday, but instead of rejoicing, giving thanks, praising Allah or whatever it is that we all do, I feel like I want to just crawl back into bed and die. Looking in the mirror, I feel like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. My eyes are all swollen and puffy from crying, my hair looks like a family of rats happily moved in and built a nest, and my posture has gone from the nice and tall "go get 'um" stance to the slouched over "I don't give a flying f@*k" look. Oh man, what a way to start the weekend.

"Come on, Girl! Get yourself together!! What's wrong with you?" I say to that sorry, hollow soul gazing back at me. Unfortunately, today I just don't think I have it in me to fight back. Should I call my doctor and ask him for a super-mega dose of Prozac? No... Xanax? No... Maybe I should go see a shrink ? It works for other people. No... I really don't have time for that. So what's got me down and out I am sure you all are wondering? Well, I have come to a major realization over the last week or so, and it is this: I got divorced to try to get rid of my obsessive, compulsive, controlling, condescending, know -it- all, pain in the a$$, now ex-husband. To my surprise, the truth is, since we share three beautiful children, I will never really be rid of him. He is always going to have a hand in things, always going to try to manipulate situations to his advantage, always going to have this ridiculous sense of entitlement, and always going to try to make my life miserable in an attempt to punish me for divorcing him. Yep, that sucks.

For instance, this is the current drama that is unfolding. On April 28th we signed a Property Settlement Agreement. We worked with a mediator, in an attempt to solve our differences without going to trial. We agreed that he was going to pay me "X" amount of dollars per month. (Let's call "X " $2,000 for sake of argument). OK, so he is supposed to pay me $2,000 per month. That is what the contract says, and that is what we agreed on. So, lets see; if he pays me $2,000/mo for 12 months, that means he owes me $24,000 for the year., right? Everybody with me so far?? Well this Son-of a -Bitch, who is a CPA and thinks he is so clever, has decided that since he gets paid "biweekly" instead of twice a month, that he is going to pay me $24000 per year/26 paychecks= $923 bi weekly, or about $1,850 per mo. Now, if you do the math correctly that is $150 less per month than he is supposed to pay me. That doesn't seem right now, does it? Granted two months out of the year I get "extra checks" But, that still screws up my budget, never mind the fact that 10 months out of the year my budget is short by $150!!! With the price of gas, food, milk, and just about everything else increasing at an alarming rate, that spells bad news for me. Even worse is that I agreed to buy the house from him. So, I still have to buy the house even though now I may not be able to afford it because of the $150 discrepancy.

Oh, the lawyer will take care of it, right? Well, I text him, email him, and call his office with no response. He's on a murder case and is insanely busy, rightly so. Though, I'm now left with the feeling that I've been screwed. Is that selfish? All I want is what we agreed to. Any normal, reasonable person would abide by the agreement...but not my ex. He is too smart, too cunning, and too selfish. "And how does that make you feel?" a shrink would ask me. Cheated. Bitter. Vengeful. I want to take a giant sledgehammer to all of his things in the garage, giving them a good smashing. Oh, so badly!! I can hear the sledgehammer calling me!! "Come get me!! I'm bored!! I'll make you feel better!!" No, no, no....that wouldn't proper. Two wrongs don't make a right I suppose.

Is there anything that will make me feel better today? Or am I destined to be swallowed up in an overwhelming sea of misery. What would my mother tell me? "Think positive and look on the bright side, this will all come to pass". My mother always loved to read the wisdom of the late Norman Vincent Peele, a man who always stressed the power of positive thinking. I'll have to go back and reread some of his thoughts. Ironically, I recently found out that he is the great-uncle of "Rockstar Guy", my latest romantic interest. Could it be fate? Hmmm...file that away in the mental rolodex. Anyway, I guess she is right. Despite my bleak outlook on the situation, I do have a lot to be thankful for. The kids and I are healthy, we have food to eat, clothes to wear, and a roof over our heads. We have great family and friends who are always willing to lend a hand, not to mention take a trip to the local ice cream shop for a giant chocolate peanut butter cone with chocolate jimmies ( I don't care what the experts say, ice cream makes everything better!!!) Things could be much, much worse.

Honestly, I guess I am starting to feel better. It is 11:50am on Friday, and as soon as these clouds go away, the weather is going to be glorious; sunny and hot! I look at that pathetic corpse of a woman in the mirror and decide to snap out of my funk. I have plans with Rockstar guy this weekend, that should cheer me up. So far he has proven himself to be quite wonderful, having an uncanny knack of always saying the right thing at the right time. Not to mention, he continuously makes me laugh. We have had lots of fun together and I'm hopeful that this weekend will bring more of the same. I guess the answer to the question I asked earlier is, yes. I am allowed to feel like sh*t on Fridays. As long as it doesn't last past noon. I have living to do, places to go, people to see, martinis to mix and tattoos to get. Life is too short to really take it seriously I suppose. As Bono so brilliantly put it, "Don't let the bastards drag you down". Haha - good advice, Mr. U2 front-man. I'll remember that.