Just had to get this out... feeling down.

So my mom invited us over for dinner at her house, and she also invited some friends she wanted my sister and I to meet.  Dinner was delicious, so much so that I went up for seconds, even though as I was up there I was thinking “I shouldn’t be eating this, I’m going to be the only one eating seconds, just eat it and hope no one calls attention to it, hope no one notices.”  These are all thoughts that go through my head a lot of the times, especially when eating in front of others.  I’ve always had a weight issue all my life, and this morning my scale reminded me that I’m the heaviest that I’ve been in quite a number of years.  I was doing ok for a long while, holding steady, but then life got hectic or I got lazy or who knows what but now I’m pretty much out of control. 

So my second plate of food goes unnoticed, thank goodness.  Out comes dessert – round one.  I happily eat it, even though I’m full, and my scale told me this morning I clearly don’t eat it.  Everyone is preparing for dessert – round two – and my mom asks my sister if she wants coffee.  My sister replies that she is full, and doesn’t think she wants any.  My sister has always been the physical opposite of me, she has never had an uncontrollable appetite and she has always been able to listen to her body when it tells her to stop.  Earlier before dinner she and my 15 year old niece were fighting over who was going to get clothes… because they’re the same size.  My sister – after 3 kids… the youngest who isn’t even 1 yet. 

Once my sister says that she is full and doesn’t want coffee my mom says to her friends “that’s why she is how she is, so thin.  She eats a little and doesn’t overdo it.  Unlike somebody else…” cue the obvious pause.  I’m bending down playing with my nephew and instantly I feel all attention on me.  I heard the entire conversation but refused to react, except to say “Thanks, Ma” and then my thoughts go to “everyone is looking at me, I’m bent over playing with my nephew, my stomach is most certainly bulging out from me bending over, how can I suck it in without being obvious to not seem like as humungous a slob as I feel right now?”  These are real thoughts in my head in that split second.  My mom of course says “aw, honey, I didn’t mean it like that, I was just saying that you like to eat” or something like that – honestly I don’t remember because how can it get worse than this?  I can’t even look at her in the eye, I just smile and pretend all of this is not happening, just keep playing with the baby.  After a while the attention moves away from me, but not before everyone notices how uncomfortable I am with the whole situation. 

Immediately I fight the urge to just run – just get out – I don’t want to be there anymore.  Why would it ever be ok to say something like that?  Why do people think that we don’t know that we are overweight, that we have a problem?  Did my scale not remind me first thing in the morning?  Did the picture that my niece took on my phone of me not remind me?  Did the picture I took of myself earlier with my son not remind me? Why would it ever be ok to not only say something like that but to say it in front of people that I’m meeting for the first time? 

And the comment alone is bad enough, but it was made in comparison to my sister.  My sister that I’ve always felt like I’m in her beautiful shadow.  This perfect social butterfly with a million dollar smile and the size 3 pants, who I love to DEATH.  But I’d be lying if said I didn’t grow up comparing myself to her.  And all throughout life when I get down on myself people are preaching accept yourself for who you are, you need to love yourself for who you are, you’re beautiful, etc. yet the people that are supposed to be the safest still feel it’s ok to make comments like that in front of others.  How is that not supposed to crush me?  How is that not supposed to send me back YEARS and YEARS into that insecure, socially awkward fat girl in school that was sitting by herself at lunch in tears because she was so unhappy with herself and she felt that no matter where she turned she was being judged because of her looks???

I know my mom feels horrible for making me feel bad.  I know she’d never intentionally hurt me.  But I’ll be honest, her comment hurt.  And I cried on the way home.  And I’m crying now.

The Real End

Moving day, he asked me to text him when I was on my way so he made sure to be "out of my way" and then for me to text him when I was done. 

I told him to let me know when he was out so that I can clean the apartment one last time before handing in my key - he never did.

Finally a week before the lease is up I ask if it's safe if I go to the apartment to clean, he says yes.

SO - yesterday I go to clean, and I made sure to check everything to make sure in the moving commotion I hadn't left anything behind.  I look in the attic and there are 6 boxes and my carpet washer in there.  They were on the other side of the attic where his stuff was, which is why I didn't see them when I moved. 

I shouldn't be surprised, but I guess I am...  I'm surprised that he didn't have the common courtesy to mention when he moved all of his stuff out "hey, not sure if you left them on purpose and are coming to get them later, but did you realize you left some stuff in the attic?"

I guess some people never stop surprising you...


On another note, my level of stress since leaving has dropped tremendously.  My boy sleeps so much better than he ever did in the apartment and even his stress level has dropped.  He loves living with family and having his own space, not having the fan turned on when he is trying to sleep (he likes it quiet and Bart needed a wind tunnel in his face) and he loves not getting woken up by the screaming dog. 

Or is that me? 

I don't know, but we have a great sense of togetherness here.  We help each other out and it's not a chore to clean up - even if it is after someone else sometimes.  Everyone appreciates everyone else and we all work together like a well oiled machine.

Ahhhh... peace.  :)

The End

So we gave each other the silent treatment for about 3 weeks, then finally acknowledged each other and interacted for a weekend.  We talked about looking for places and he said he had put in for an apartment 5 doors down and was waiting to hear back.

So 2 days after we start talking, he texts me this: 

Art:  "I got the apartment up the road.  Good news!  Can I keep the dresser that Bart is using?  And can I borrow your movers for the big stuff?" 


(Bart was on an air mattress with no furniture when we moved in together, I hated it so I offered him the dresser that came with my boy's crib set.)

Me:  Congrats!  Yes you can keep the dresser.  What movers?



Art:  Aw thanks!  Your band of movers from last time!  I'll help you move if I can borrow them - I just need them for like 15 minutes for the big stuff, no boxes or anything.

...

...


Me:  My friends and family???????  Um... I'll have to ask.

Art:  Nah, that's ok.  But I do need my sofa and chair, can they bring that?  (My mother was holding his sofa and chair because both of our living rooms didn't fit into the apartment.)

Me:  Sure.




So...  he wanted me to tell MY friends and family to help him move!!!!  Not that I hired movers and he wanted to use them for 15 minutes, he wanted me to tell MY friends and family to help HIM move!!!!  AND he will help me move IF he can use my "movers" to move him???? 

IS THAT BALLSY OF HIM OR WHAT????????  Seriously?!?!?!?!?  The nerve!  Especially after all the fighting we had done!  Seriously he is in his own little world!


Needless to say my "movers" didn't even want to return his sofa and chair - they were so offended that he would even say that!!!  I mean, if he wanted to ask for help, but they clearly had NO relationship with him for him to even ask that!  GET YOUR OWN FRIENDS AND FAMILY!!!!

So... we didn't talk much after that, I kept to myself, stayed at my sister's house for the next two weeks, then moved my stuff out the end of March.  Whew - I can breathe again!

The Aftermath...

Well, I have to say, it's been quite tense here.  He got home Tuesday night and of course we didn't acknowledge each other.  For a couple of days now we just pass each other as if we're not there, the only time we interact is if we are in the kitchen cooking at the same time, then it's the polite forced "excuse me" etc etc etc (although this morning he made sure I was done cooking before entering the kitchen.) 

Also, as soon as he dirties a dish he puts it in the dishwasher.  If he is trying to prove that the dirty dishes are all mine it's not gonna happen because I'm doing the same.  So that's a plus.  But of course I came home on the really beautiful warm day (Thursday) and the windows were open and I thought I was in the wild west because there were tumbleweeds of fur rolling across our floor.  I made sure one rolled right into Art's room...




Yesterday (Friday) I had a moment where I almost lost it.  I had arranged for the landlord to take the last two month's rent out of my security deposit (I think I had already shared that with you).  Yesterday I get a text from him:

Landlord:  I just talked to Art.  He said that $825 of the security deposit is his.  That being said, I should be expecting April rent from you, right?

Me:  *shaking from anger* Not true.  I will clear things up for him.

Me to Art:  When we moved in I payed the security deposit and the first month's rent.  You paid me half of the first month's rent (the money you just gave me) but we had agreed you didn't have to pay me the half of the security one because you couldn't afford it and two because I would just get it all back at the end of our lease so it's not like I'd lose any money.

Art:  I completely forgot about that I thought I was paying back half of the security deposit.  Okay sorry that one slipped my mind.

I forwarded both to the landlord and said: I have both cancelled checks to show I paid them both and he can tell you what he just paid me back if you need to verify more.

Landlord:  Ok, sounds good.


I was left shaking and full of adrenaline.  I seriously thought Art was going to try to screw me over and take my money.  I'm glad he realized his mistake.




I know it's mean but I'm glad I'm now not the only one that is uncomfortable here.  I'm glad I'm not the only one that is avoiding being home.  It should only be fair.  We are both, of course, still being nice to the boys, although I think Art is doing a better job of it than me to be honest.  I will work on it.

I did notice Art actually showered today, and the other night I almost fell off my chair because he actually brushed his teeth before bed. 



51 days until the lease is up.  I feel like time is ticking and I'm not nearly as prepared as I should be.  I need to start packing and I need to start looking at places... even the ones I'm not expecting to be nice... I don't want April to get here and then me not have a plan. 

One of my very bestest school buddies told me this on Thursday when I was freaking out:  "How do you eat an elephant?  One bite at a time."  That is so true.  Lately I feel like my "elephant" is too much to "eat" that I don't know where to start or if I'll be able to handle it... but I can only do it one bite at a time.  It will all work out.

My breaking point...

So I came home today (Tuesday) after leaving Monday morning, and I came home to a sink full of dishes and a sticky toilet seat.  Not tiny little sprinkle drops - big fat drops.  Ok yes, most of the dishes in the sink were mine, but they weren't all mine, BUT I figured if I'm going to be the only one to clean the bathroom, then he is going to be in charge of the kitchen.  Well of course that's not how it worked.  I unloaded and loaded the dishwasher tonight, I had JUST cleaned the bathroom on Sunday. 

So...  today is the day I exploded.  Some of you heard most of this already, but for those of you that didn't, this is how it went:

Me:  Seriously you need to remember to put up the seat when you pee... I'm tired of cleaning the toilet seat before I use it every time.

Art:  Sorry.  You're vastly out-numbered, ya know.  But yay you're cleaning!

Me:  Actually it was all you because the boys weren't here yesterday plus you're the only one that pees out sugar, leaving a sticky residue.  And I already cleaned the toilet on Sunday... someone has to do it.

Art: I never said it wasn't *me* I just said you were outnumbered.  But your chemical analysis is fascinating.  Do you put on latex gloves before you check for stickiness?

Me:  Nope, I sat on it once.  Never made that mistake again.  You can see it's sticky.  Looks like drops of dried syrup.  You should look into patenting that as an adhesive then you will have lots of money - yay!

Art:  Well it doesn't work very well.  You managed to get up.  Hey if I pee in other places around the house will you clean there too?

Me:  Don't start with the cleaning because besides your room you don't lift a finger.  Your dog's hair is in balls under everything until I clean it - oh and btw I'm here half the time you are so it's your filth.

Me:  You used to have the wipies out when you cooked at the condo yet here you drop a whole pizza upside down in my oven and you don't even scrape the chunks out. I've noticed you cleaned the bathroom once since living here - and you having your 6 year old do it doesn't count cuz he cleans... well like a 6 year old.  About as well as you do.  My space is dusty and messy but I'm not dirty like you... Seriously a monster could crawl out of the toilet and you wouldn't care.  Hey is the sticky pee to keep them trapped on the toilet?  Hey look at that, you have a real superpower after all.

Art:  Wow.  That was a pretty nasty tirade.  Managed to use my diabetes, my son and my like for coming books all in one rant.

Me:  I toned it down...

Art:  It was impressive.  Feel better?

Me:  Maybe.  But can you please clean up after you use the toilet?

Art:  I'm not sure your presentation deserves the respect of a response.  We have a month and a half left.  Let's leave it at that.

Me:  Well I also don't deserve to clean up someone else's pee so me or my son don't sit on it.  that seems common courtesy to me.    55 days to be exact.

Me again:  And don't worry - I'm avoiding being here as much as possible.  If I could move this weekend I would.

Art:  I apologized, I tried to keep it light and fun.  I don't want to fight with you or say mean things to you.  I'm a little taken back at how hateful you're being.

Me:  Your sarcastic apology doesn't count lol I'm not being hateful I'm just at wits end and need my own space as soon as humanly possible.

Art:  I'm sorry.  And if that isn't your idea of 'hateful' comments I'm afraid to really make you mad.  Of course there was still my daughter and my writing left.


I didn't reply... he should be home soon.  Wonder what that's gonna be like.



UGH!!!!!!  My heart was beating so fast I was so mad I swear if I could have walked out and never come back I would have.  I can't take this anymore...

55 days left...  Will I survive???   WILL HE?

Nightmares...

First let me just tell you a little story I just remembered about my oven.  I'm only reminded of it because he is using my oven now. 

When Art had his own place and I'd go over to hang out, he'd cook and as he cooked he'd have his Lysol disinfecting wipes out and he'd be wiping the stove.  (This is what I thought I was moving in with when I agreed to move in with him.) A few months ago I went to open the oven door (my stove/oven, btw - I brought it with me when we moved in) and saw a HUGE GLOP of stuff on the door and on the bottom of the oven.  I asked him what it was and he said he had cooked a whole pizza and was trying to balance it on 2 spatulas and it fell completely upside down on the oven door. So... if in YOUR place you can wipe up every small splatter as soon as it happens as you're cooking, why do you leave GLOBS of melted cheese on MY oven door/bottom when you're an idiot and try to balance a whole hot pizza on two spatulas?????  It makes me so mad.  Seriously.


So this morning I had a dream... or maybe a nightmare.  In it I complained about Art not cleaning as much as I did (the toilet is disgusting, you should see it - seriously WHY can't he clean it???? Why do I have to do it every time???) and then I saw him enter my room and come out with a folded t-shirt looking thing.  I only half saw it out of the corner of my eye because I was doing something else.  So I eventually go into my room and look in my closet and he had installed a rod halfway down my closet and his stuff was in there.  When I confronted him about it he laughed and said "I wondered how long it'd take you to notice that.  If we're going to do everything 50/50 then I want half of everything, including your closet." 

At that point I went OFF on him and told him that I shouldn't have to clean as much as him (and definitely NOT MORE) because I was barely home - about half time or less at this point - and that the disgusting bathroom filth is all his, and that HE was the one that peed STICKY SUGAR which made everything disgustingly gross, and he was the one with the disgusting hairy dog, etc etc etc!!! 

In my dream I was screaming at him so hard that I would run out of breath while I still had things to say so I was trying to word things with no breath (think Ace Ventura when he sucks in a deep breath and then tells the rich guy with the guano what he thinks happened based on what he observed.) 

I was so mad that I woke up full of anger.  I'd say this is definitely not healthy.

And the very MOST there are 58 days left and then I will be at peace...  Ohm...  Ohm... OHM...

The end is near...

Today (Tuesday night) is my first day back to the apartment since I left Friday morning.  Last week was full of attitude and snapping.  I think I can't hide my unhappiness, therefore he is snapping in response.  So I avoided being home all weekend.  I come home and the same dishes I put in the dishwasher to wash are in there - they haven't been unloaded.  The sink is full of dishes and the toilet seat is all sticky.  And icing on the cake, the MOFO ate the bag of M&Ms that I was saving in the freezer.  I confronted him about it (yes I did) and he said they were his.  Um, no.  They were in my shelf, with the Dove chocolate bar that I also put in there at the same time, that is still in there.  I'm so beyond done I can't even being to tell you.

Well, yes I can.

Today I told the landlord to use the security deposit (all mine) to pay for my final 2 month's rent, and I told him I very well may move out sooner if I find something.  At this point losing a month's worth of rent is well worth the peace of mind of having my own place and sleeping in my own bed every night.  When I'm winding down for the day at work, just the thought of having to come here makes me sad and I wish I could avoid it, yet the thought of packing up for an overnight stay at my sister's is getting old too.  I love to spend time with them, I hate to pack up my life (work stuff, school stuff, overnight stuff, my son's stuff, etc) every other day. 

So... I feel a bit deflated. 

But on the flip side, I already reached out to a realtor about an apartment that I hope to look at soon.  I am planning on getting boxes soon so I can start packing - hopefully this weekend.  The end is near but unfortunately it's not near enough... I will take steps that will get me closer to the end and stay focused so I can stay sane.

At the very MOST I am here for another 62 days... but I know it will be less than that.

Wish me luck... and strength.