Imported from China

I just imported all of the data from my previous two blogs.  So, now if you want to go back into like, 2004, you can.  I haven’t even tried to access my live journal.  I don’t know if I nuked it or not.  It’s kinda incredible that I’ve got 10+ year’s worth of stories and mundane information.  My entire adult life is now in one place.  Crazy.

Update: Yes.  I apparently expunged and deleted my old LJ account.  So, that time of my life is missing.  Probably for the best.  It was during the time right after I got married and live was totally in the shitter.

Drive By Affection

After M left me the first time, right after we got married, I hated how vulnerable I had gotten.  I was extremely defensive and continuously on alert.  I didn’t let anyone get close to me, let alone M.  He paid the price for adultery, in those years.  But I let my guard down after having the Monkey.  One sleepless night we actually held each other and I forgave him for everything that he had done to us.  It was cathartic and felt good.  4 years later and we get a divorce.

Today I’m still on the defensive.  I think even more so.  And, bless him, my boyfriend doesn’t push anything.  He recognizes that I’m not 100%.  I recognize it too, and don’t spend time agonizing over whether or not I’m showing enough affection.  He knows that I’m still a bit of a work in progress.  I’m prone to locking up and becoming hardened armor at the slightest show of turbulence.  He’s actually experienced it first hand.  I hate when I get mushy and emotionally needy and he just smiles and doesn’t bring attention to it when I do find myself letting my guard down for a second.  I’ll impulsively just say, “I love you,” or bury my head in his arms, or hold his gaze and pour every ounce of myself into a kiss.  And then immediately say something like, “Fuck these ovaries,” or “DRIVE BY AFFECTION”, like I just did now.

It’s sad that I’m still cracked all over.  But I’m every day I’m getting better.

What Did Your Keyboard Ever Do To You?

Seriously, do you have to type on it with the downward pressure of a thousand rotund southern preachers?  What gives?

In Hackers there are a bunch of scenes that drive me absolutely up the wall, despite being one of my favorite movies.  Every time someone is typing s. l. o. w. l. y. and banging on the keys loud enough to wake the dead, I want to do some kind of physical damage to something.  And I understand entirely that this is a symptom of misophonia, and I should do everything possible to take myself out of the offending area or block the sound in some way (I’m listening to pandora, right now), but this is a daily thing.  Doesn’t matter how great of a day I’m having or how long I’m actually at my desk… at some point I’m going to hyper focus on the sound of someone typing.

I’m not a mean person.  I mean, for the most part.  I don’t like it when people don’t like me or think I’m a bitch.  But for the love of all that is holy, the longer I spend exposed to these sounds, the lower my patience is for other seemingly innocuous occurrences.

I’m noticing that every day that goes by, I feel more and more overwhelmed by the sounds of my environment.  Maybe today’s episodes are being precipitated by whatever has been up my ass since last week.  Or maybe I’m just finally outwardly showing the wear on my psyche.

This is the beginning of some kind of “down period”.  And I’ve got no choice but to just ride it.

The Air, After it Rained, Kinda Smelled Like a Fresh Band-Aid

You can picture it in your head.

Your parent sits you on the counter or kitchen table and brings over the small white tin box that held at least 10 different brands of band-aids.  The first crisp cut through the paper that shows the small “conveniently flesh toned” bandage inside.  It had a certain smell.  It was entirely different from antiseptic or ointment.

That’s the way that the world smelled, on the back roads of the border between the Fairfax and Prince William Counties.

For a second it took me back to childhood; living in the States for a few years between a mandatory evacuation and Dad’s next assignment.

It was a pretty cool memory.

All of my memories of here are either recent (last 10 years) or fragmented between home leave trips and the three years that I got to be a normal American kid.

There are many days where I feel like I’m assuming the background of a life I never got to live.  I didn’t get Daria and Celebrity Death Match.  I ended up with MTV Europe and BBC.  The Armed Forces Network and Flashback TV.  Music was a mad grab from whoever got to go stateside, recently.

I walk around feeling like a pretender, appropriating a culture that I never grew up with.

Maybe that’s what’s got me down, lately.

Who knows.

Eat Me

That’s what my younger daughter just told me to do.  Now Bean is saying pee over and over again.  She’s a 3 year old.  She’s not a baby.

Monkey is sitting at the end of the bed; quite possibly talking to her feet.  I dunno.  She’s 4, now.

They’re both hanging out in my bed, sorta watching Supernatural.  We’re a Supernatural family.  Complete with a Sam girl, a Dean girl, and a Cas girl.  From here on out, expect lots of Supernatural gifs.  Consider this your only warning.

So.  Where have we been?  How long has it been since I’ve been a regular updater of life?  Too long if you ask me.

I’ve gone ahead and updated the site a bit.  A little paisley, a little vintage iconography.  A change of title, too.  The Bitter Bitch is what I named my tumblr, so I decided that’s what I should re-christen my blog.  During my divorce I believed that it would turn me incredibly bitter, and strengthen my already apathetic view of the world.  But it hasn’t.  Well.  I mean I’m not actually bitter.  I’ll always be apathetic.  I’m not someone who this has been done to.  I’m someone who chose this life I currently live.  Most of it, anyway.


This was mostly a little teaser post.  More to come later.  :)


Welcome Home

Different boss, same job location.

It’s been 2 years, to the goddamn day, since I’ve been a full time employee in this asstown.  And today, my technically second day back, I don’t have a desk and my boss is in St Louis.  I’m listening to Stinky McFrontbutt throw a fit over whether or not we get a “holiday” on the 26th or a “closure of the government”.  Because this is very important to know two weeks out.  -_-

So yeah.  I’m back here.  I’d love to have a desk assigned so that I could bring in the crap that I’ve been riding around with in my very petite car.  Oh yes, I’ve had to get a new car due to “Le Divorce”.  I’m probably not going to say much about it because I’m sure I’d only live to regret any kind of blatant bitching about what an epic shitshow this has become.  Rest assured, I’m hanging on with a fantastical complement of gaming, tv, boyfriends, and family as therapy.

Yes!  I have a boyfriend!  Whaaaaa????  I know, right?  Pretty sweet.

Anywho.  It’s almost quitting time.  Hopefully I’ll have more to write about anything tomorrow.



And since I can’t access tumblr from work, this is where I will vent my frustration.

Today – this is me.

I am one giant frayed nerve and so help me Oprah if anyone steps on it, there will be blood.

World, consider yourself warned.

Well That Escalated Slowly…

I’ve moved out w/ the girls, and I’m living approx. 15 miles away.  

We are selling the house, and have both retained lawyers.

It’s been a month since the girls and I moved into our new house, and while things are going slow in terms of unpacking (my commute is even longer now) we’ve entered a new normal.  M takes the girls on every other weekend from Friday night thru Monday morning.  And I’m free to pursue… other… interests.

Kissing and telling is annoying; plus should this not go anywhere, I’m not going to go on and on about this mysterious someone.  But I am happier.  And I am smiling easier.  And I can see a light at the end of this tunnel.

My parents and some friends think it’s too soon.  But really, I’ve been mourning this relationship for almost a year, now.  We had been on the rocks and in constant arguments for a long time.   Life sucks when you don’t look forward to going home or being alone with the person you said you’d forsake over any other.  I realize that, to them, it was only “official” in February, but really, I’m ready to get on with my life.

The other day I was sitting at home, alone, and looking through netflix trying to find something awesome to watch.  And I realized something fucking groundbreaking: I can watch or do anything that I want to.  In that moment I became drunk with freedom.  I watched XxX and it was awesome.  I can watch action movies w/ horrible plots, and not be ashamed of what M will say.  I can watch the worst shit on TV (Keeping Up w/the Kardashians) and no one is going to judge me for it.  I had never realized just how molded I was into the person that M wanted to me be.  And not the person that I really am. 

Deep shit, yo.

So, yeah.  I’m happier, freer, and really living life again.  The girls can drive me crazy, at times, but they’re sweet, and kind, and going through some really hard shit.  So I don’t fault them for having tantrums or being obstinate.  I get it.  I move on and ignore the bad behavior and reward the good.  That’s really all I can do at this age.  And I’m hanging out with old friends, making new ones, trying new experiences, and getting closer to family. 

And this is good.

Shit is Shit

My life right now is fucked up, confusing, and pretty sad. 

And it has nothing to do w/ work.

M and I are separating. 


See, that’s the thing.  I don’t know what’s going on.  I don’t really know what’s in his heart or mind.  I don’t know what the resolution is.  I don’t know if things can be fixed, and I don’t know if I have the patience to wait and see. 

Things have been going downhill after he started hanging out with a friend.  Long story short, she hit on him, I flipped the fuck out, he got defensive and mad, and lalala.  Everything from that point has been shit.  There have been lies, and shouts, and lots of anger.  And I don’t know if we’re too broken to be fixed.

I don’t want to spend the rest of my life pretending to be happy and in a relationship that makes me anxious. 

We’ve both fucked up.  Him more so than me.  At least from my perspective. 

I proposed starting from the beginning.  Getting to know each other again.  Doing things together.  And this also allows him to move out of our bedroom and establish his own life without any interference from me.  We’ll still be great parents and love them with all our hearts, but we’ll be separate people.

It’s hard for me, really.  When we met, we were 18.  My entire adult life surrounds this man and that’s hard.  I’ve pushed back against embracing a hopeless romantic attitude because I didn’t want to get hurt when the shoe fell.  And when he had an emotional affair w/ a girl in Germany, I took that as a sign that my reticence was right and apt.  But I ended up closing off the world, anyway, and made him my everything.  I told friends I couldn’t meet because M would give me shit about being alone.  I would put opportunities on the sidelines because M would be mad that I was leaving him. 

M and I used to make fun of other couples who do shit entirely separate from each other.  “Why even get married?” we’d ask, snarkily.  And then, BAM, I got hit with exactly that request.  He wanted to be able to teach, for free, along w/ doing maybe 3 papers simultaneously, and then on top of that, he wanted to take a freelance job w/ another school.  All of those things kept him away from me and the girls, and left the responsibility solely on me.  I bitched and moaned, but I did it, and I supported him.  I would tell the girls that we were proud of daddy, because he was teaching people new things.  I would build him up in their eyes while I died a little inside.

I was lonely.

I am lonely.

While he was out drinking in a bar w/ his friends, I was taking care of the girls at the house.  While he was working late because he skipped out of work to do something academic, I’d be home with the girls.  I was only ever with the girls. 

And yeah, it was 1 or 2 days a week.  But that shit adds up.  The rest of the week, when he was home, he was distant, constantly talking to his new friends, ignoring me, working on one of his many papers, getting frustrated and taking it out on me.  The romance stopped.  The quality time stopped.  I’d be woken up in the middle of the night to have sex without any build up. 

That’s not fair.

He’d end up bringing up my work trips from when I worked at NGA.  Yeah, those were a couple days long, but they were few and far between.  This is every week.  Sometimes every day in a week.  He supported me during my trips, yes, but leading up to those trips he’d treat me horribly and be spiteful.  I always took him into consideration when people asked me to go somewhere.  I always asked myself, “Would this piss M off?”  With him, it feels like I’m not even in consideration.

How does this get better?  How does this get fixed?  Is everything too fucked up at this point?  Are 11 years of my life w/ someone gone?  It feels like that.  It feels like I’ve been abandoned.  I know he still sleeps next to me, and says he loves me, but really, how does that help the situation? 

He’s moving into the spare bedroom, today.  We’ll see how that goes.  We’ll see what happens from there.

I don’t know what the future brings, but I sure hope things get better from here.  No matter the outcome.

What Is There To Say?

I’m turning 29 in a weekish.  Like, the real 29.  Not the whole, “I’m gonna be 29 forever!” that some twats always say.  I have a career, two kids, a husband, a house, a car.  When did I grow up?  Did I grow up?

Last night I made chicken fried steak and tater tots for dinner.  Dessert was cookies and cream.  I havent had cookies and cream since I was a teenager.  It was one of my dad’s favorite flavors.  When we had finished dinner the Monkey looked at me and asked if I would make it again.  :)

I see my kids growing up.  The JellyBean is asking questions, watching movies.  Sometime this week they’ll both be getting a bunk bed for their room because the crib is now a jungle gym of potential pain.  The Monkey plays outside with other neighborhood kids and asks about them when she hasn’t seen them in a few days.

My husband and I will be refinancing our house soon.  We’re a few months away from 20% equity in the house.  And I totally just wrote that with a straight face.  We’re slowly replacing all of our Ikea goods with quality Pottery Barn digs.

I like my job.  I am in charge of a database, and assign work to 4 other people.  I am the chairperson for a new interagency information sharing tool.  I have a contractor who works for me.

When did I grow up?

Have I grown up?

The other day a commercial for Tiny Toon Adventures came on.  They’ve brought it to the Hub, a children’s TV channel.  I literally shrieked in delight and proceeded to inform everyone who follows me on facebook.  When I get home, or on weekends, I change into ripped jeans and one of my many faded tshirts.  I still find most of my “work wardrobe” annoying and constricting.  This superficiality is a holdover of the way “our parents did it”.  The only problem with this is that our parents are still here.  I know mine still are.

A few months ago I met my dad at State Department.  It was weird driving there, walking there, entering on my own accord with my own ID and being able to walk unescorted through the halls.  We had lunch where I used to, as a little kid, wait for my folks to get out of whatever meeting they had to sit through.  The walls were the same.  The floors the same shiny marble they’ve probably always been.  The clock on the wall… hasn’t changed.

Am I grown up?

If I am, why am I still waiting for that “grown up” consciousness to take over the job.  I’m still here.  What is there to say?


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 384 other followers

%d bloggers like this: