Her: “Morning slore.”
Me: “Hey Girl.”
Her: “Hahahaha!. You just went all Ryan Gosling on me.”
Me: “Hey giirrrll – I’ll be the cheese to YOUR macaroni.”
(Pauses several seconds)
Me: “Ugh. Just grossed myself out. What are you up to?”
Her: “Oh Em Gee. I have the WORST headache.”
Me: “Dude. Headaches blow.”
Her: “YEAH they do.”
Me: “Sucks, man.”
Me: “Bet Ryan Gosling could help you with that shit.”
Her: “Doubt it.”
Me: “Shit. I just spilled scalding coffee on my nipple.”
Her: “Did you like it?”
Her: “You’re a freak.”
Me: “Eh, Ryan Gosling wouldn’t think so. He’d make that shit into a lampshade.”
Her: “Why are we friends?”
(pauses several seconds)
Me: “I have NO idea.”
I wrote this. Apparently? I need help. No, not that kind of help. I HAVE a therapist.
Welcome to Shit I Found Saturdays, Pranksters! Every week, I try to find some awesome shit around the ‘net to show you because, well, I feel sorta guilty for the whole “whinging about my divorce” crap. And everyone needs a good laugh now and again.
Play along below!
(If the linky thing isn’t being buggy, I mean.)
Shit I Read:
Don’t Dissect Your Friends – it’s a DAMN good reminder.
A Letter I Can’t Send: From The Ex Wife To The New Wife: Heartbreaking and true.
Shit I Wrote:
Shit That’s Weird:
Shit That’s Hilarious (Because it’s TRUE):
Shit That’s Fucking Scary:
I’d kind of like it more if it made reference to MySpace, but you can’t have it all.
It may be hard some days, but everyday, I’m able wake up thrilled that I do not, in fact, own this.
Do these cause cramps or alleviate them? I JUST DON’T KNOW.
Shit I Watched That’s Pretty Fucking Depressing (Don’t Say I Didn’t Warn You):
I WARNED YOU! SAD!
(depression is a lying liar who lies)
So what rad shit did YOU do/see/find this week? I’m hoping this link-thing works. They’re so damn buggy.
“Losses can be real or perceived,” my perky psych nursing teacher told the class. While the rest of the class dutifully scribbled that statement down in their notebooks, I simply looked up from the back row, where I was playing my game of Bejeweled, shocked.
I’d never thought about losses like that before.
To me, losses implied the death of a person or animal or something was once living and now 6 feet under.
I’d never bothered to consider losses in any other manner.
That statement has been playing on my lips a lot lately, along with my I Hate Artichokes mantra, as I think about the new chapters I’m to write after this particularly dreary chapter of my life ends.
If I don’t like this ending, the story is far from over (and I decidedly do NOT like this ending). I must continue moving forward so that I can write the next chapter of my life.
I knew that with every major life change – birth, death, weddings – came a series of losses and gains. While I’d known that this was likely going to happen with the dissolution of my union, I was unprepared for the types of things that happen when one gets an “internet” divorce.
The rampant gossip and speculation about why my marriage was ending. The certainty that when a marriage ends, someone must be to blame. The friends, who once stood at my back, promising they’d catch me if I fell, turning their backs. The guilt of losing my home. The shame in asking for help. The loss of a dream. The shame that I somehow failed.
With the losses, though, I’ve found so much more than I’d have expected. I have several boxes that you, my Pranksters, have lovingly sent me, of items I can use in my new home, for my new life, because you know that starting over, that dissolving a nearly 9-year union, that comes with a lot of pain. And every little thing, every email, every comment, they all matter so much.
For every friend I’ve lost, I’ve gained two new friends who know me and love me anyway. For everything I must leave behind, I have something else to take – words, love, encouragement – to remind me I’m not alone. In the darkest of dark moments, when I honestly don’t know how I’ll survive – if I should bother trying – the next three seconds, there have been whole minutes in which I can see clearly that I’ll be able to thrive. Maybe not today or tomorrow, or even next week, but someday.
And that is enough to carry me through.
So thank you, my friends, who have steadfastly answered the phone when I call sobbing. Who don’t pass judgement because I do sometimes need help, and know I loathe asking for it. Who text me to make sure I’m okay, and stay up until all hours, driving around with me in silence, just to feel like I’m not alone in the world. Who have been so kind, so thoughtful as to send me things. Who have loved me in spite of me.
You’ve carried me through.
And I don’t know how to repay that kindness.