Saturday, September 28, 2013

Divorce Times Week 12: Work Hard and Dye My Own Hair


Last night when I was watching (and a little bit participating in) some veryvery dreamy girls-on-girl play, I got such a pang for Sweetie, such a loneliness for what’s past. I haven’t had a lot of time to think about or work on our breakup. I’ve been working 50-60 hour weeks and my job takes up almost every shred of my consciousness whether I am there or not—that’s a great feeling but it is also exhausting. I have to wake up at 4 A.M. most days if I want to get blog posts done—as each weekend approaches, the urge to have more adventures is dulled a little bit by the fantasy of sleeping in all the way until 5:30. Maybe I just need more adventures I feel a little circumspect about? Nah, that’s no fun.

With all of that going on, it’s easy to deny the weight of what Sweetie and I are still living with, but sometimes it just creeps in. The other night I was exhausted from taking care of my students, staying late to fuss with the classroom, getting my lesson plans done, and dragging my ass to the gym but it was the only night to dye my hair, lest I risk going into the weekend with orange-tinged ears. I did it myself last time, but it took two tries, so I succumbed to the temptation to ask her to check for missed spots.

I immediately realized my mistake. Being in the cramped bathroom with her running her gloved fingers over my increasingly blood-colored head was just far too intimate. Her boobs looked appealing in her schlubby T-shirt and I almost absentmindedly made a grab for one. when I mentioned it, she looked into my face and started to cry, citing and urge to kiss me.

“It’s still there,” She said the next day, tearing up again, and I felt all the guilt and sadness of living with someone who still loves me and from whom I am just starting to move on.


So that’s part of why I’m working so hard. My job doesn’t feel super-secure yet and I know that the only way to keep it and be happy is to pour my whole self into it, give it every ounce of love that I can. The joy that I feel when I pick up my students in the morning is one of the deepest kinds of happiness I’ve ever known, and if I focus on that I can get me and Sweetie where we need to go. It just can’t happen fast enough.

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