Orthdoc, pathetic is absolutely the last word that comes to mind. Fucking go girl. Keep following the process, step at a time, let the momentum carry you along.

And I echo Limey's advice. Get details of a shelter now. I'd advise talking to them now and having them in the background for if crisis occurs.

Good luck. Though perhaps luck is the wrong word. Good journey.

What they all said, ortho.

This must be so hard for you and we are here for you when you need to talk. I also echo the sentiments about locating a shelter. Have that plan. If you don't need it, fine. If you do, have it planned well enough that the action you take is almost automatic.

Take care of YOU. You have all my warm thoughts today.

Not doing such a great job of taking care of myself, tonight. Every time I spend a few hours in stb-x's company I find I need to DRINK, drink, drink ... way too much. It's surreal, it's painful, it needs anesthetic.

I found out today that I can't afford the attorney I really want. Still looking for representation. Showed a realtor around the place today and it's hard - I'm giving up everything with no guarantees, no promises that anything will turn out well, that fairness will prevail. The most likely scenario is that, no matter what, after all I've given up and lost, I'll lose big-time at the end of it all. It's like a huge nihilistic joke.

The hardest part is the gardens here - I planted every plant, every tree, every shrub. I know them all intimately. I spent SO MUCH of my time and energy nurturing them. It's hard to leave at this time of year, when everything is growing and beautiful.

He still thinks I'm going away to live as a nun and come back to succumb to his studly awesomeness. He taunts me with stories of the many hot nurses who proposition him at work, and 'wonders' if they're sending a message? I wish he'd just bring them all home and get it over with. But what, and who, he wants is me, and it creeps me out. I'm angry. He wants to hot tub, so I put on a bikini and climb in and enjoy the night sky ... and then he tells me that come September his ass will be tighter than mine. What a guy. My stb-x ... what a guy.

He knows all my vulnerabilities, he knows how to hurt me. And I have to spend tomorrow with him, transferring titles on cars and so on. Sunday I gain some freedom, off to WV for 36 hours. Two more weeks. Counting, counting.

He's an ass.

I know about the vulnerabilities and knowing how to hurt you...been there, girl. It's emotional abuse. It's evil. It takes such a toll on you. But keep going, one foot in front of the other.

:comfort:

Hugs orthodoc. Oh and try not to drink too much. That stuff
won't help sweetie.

Thanks guys, doing better ... in my new place for one night of peace, anyway. Have a payroll/benefits session tomorrow. I am SO happy here! My own space. Staying off the booze, drinking some fantastic green tea my son recommended, and copying receipts/writing up stuff for the attorney.

I find it's easy to get muddled after spending a lot of time with stb-x; I bizarrely start feeling guilty, feeling bad for him! After so many years of abuse I still try to make his life easier. But then, just thinking of him angry makes me hyperventilate. And he'll be very angry very shortly.

Good to here from you. Keep checking in, and good luck for the road ahead!

This sounds normal.

In my experience, having waves of feelings wash over and through me, from different directions, and of different origins was very unsettling. I had contradictory feelings like you describe. I don't think that's abnormal. I had mixed and contradictory feelings when we were married too. Think about it, there's not much in life of any substance or complexity that evokes purely one reaction. Certainly not something as complex and nuanced and extensive as a multi-decade marriage. You might be buffeted and confused by the whipsawing, but don't doubt yourself (easy to say, harder to do), this is a turbulent time. You're on the right track.

One additional benefit of writing down the things you want to get/do/avoid/etc on a physical list is that it helps keep you focused, your intellectual, analytical mind focused even when your emotional being is ... all over the place. You can't deny the feelings--they are freaking feelings--but it is possible to act one way and feel another. The list helps you focus your actions.

Hang in there. Keep moving forward. Cut yourself some slack.

Here's an article that's been in-the-making for more than 60 years.

NY Times
PETER PRINGLE
6/12/12

Notebooks Shed Light on an Antibiotic’s Contested Discovery
I won't spoil the denouement on page 2 of the article.

I read the article and about Schatz my pants.

Unrelated to anything on the Cellar.


shit, piss, and corruption.

Typical lab bullshite. Rosalind Franklin did the x-ray crystallography that Watson and Crick used to make 'their' discovery of the structure of DNA. She accurately interpreted the data; she wasn't just a tech who didn't know what she'd recorded. Yet she was passed over when the Nobel committee awarded W&C the big prize. One of the biggest stories in 20th century science history, but who remembers Rosalind Franklin today? Only a few of us.

On other, less edifying topics ... huge fight today; narcissism reigns supreme in this household. Stb-x is livid that anyone knows of our impending divorce - the entire hospital is alive with the rumor now, G-d knows how, but small towns will be like that - yet tells me he suffers every day and night with shame over what he did all those years. The suffering is not, apparently, enough to convince him that I deserve not to be eating vegetable peels for two years while I get the necessary training to allow me to earn a living; nor is it enough to persuade him that I shouldn't use up the pittance he offers me as 'half' the value of our property in order to eat (occasionally) somewhat more than vegetable peelings. Of course, mortgaging our property is unthinkable for HIM ... he would rather sell it for a pittance and live elsewhere, telling the story of the heinous bitch who ruined his life to whomever could bear it.

And, after hours of screaming vituperative bile in my face, he knocks on my door and tells me not to go to sleep angry.

?????

He is an ass.

How long have you known him?