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Reflection from December 28th, 2012 @ Age 31

RE:  I EITHER GET WHAT I WANT, OR I **CHANGE** MY MIND ;0P

I love when I fill in the above and it’s Thursday or Friday…just on the cusp of a couple free days—it’s such a relief and excitement.  Not feeling very prose-y or poetic at the moment, but I did want to say this thing I’ve been thinking a bit over the past couple of days.  Things really blew up the day after Christmas with Adam and I over the email.  He twice in December, made use of the ol’ switcheroo—good Adam leading into evil Adam, back to good and then into evil again.  The last time was a very kind email at 12:01am Christmas morning, wishing all the happiness in the world to me and my family—the next the following day, strictly business about being a dick regarding the divorce.

It infuriated me.  I mean, I was literally sitting right here on my couch in the loft when I read his email on my phone and I was shaking and livid.  So I wrote back this email to him, saying he must not have understood my several prior requests to not communicate with me—and attached all of the seven or eight emails he had sent me in December alone, in the first of which he’s caught saying, “why haven’t you (i.e. me) been responding to my (i.e. his) texts and emails?”  And then of course, the “I can’t understand why we couldn’t work things out,” “is there any way we can get this marriage to work, I don’t think I can do this divorce thing,” etc. etc. really, it’s not all that important now.

Anyways, I was pissed, so I CC’d my divorce attorney as well as his, and told him as much and said hopefully his attorney can shed some light on the matter for him.  And although I clearly, clearly stated not to contact me again—wouldn’t you know…about 10 minutes later!  I got an email from him, as he said, “CC’d (the world)” that ohh now, “it’s officially over for us talking,” and “ohh man, if I could attach all the texts, emails and cards in the mail” (one of which, relating of course, lol, to his email I had attached wherein he said “my grandma died today, I know she really liked you a lot, end of sentence, end of email”) then, he said he would (which is telling, because he could, if he really wanted to—which he didn’t, apparently).  He said, “don’t play these little games with me Marissa, I’m going to have my attorney serve you with the divorce papers ASAP now!”  What a moron—like I care now!  So we’ll see if he even has the balls to do that!

But my point is, then, he responded with his curt little ridiculous reply, in direct contravention to my additional and very specific request that he not contact me anymore.  So I just then emailed his attorney directly, CC’d my attorney and did not include him in the email—saying to her, “get control of your client, end of sentence, end of email.”  And so then, I’ve felt very much so better about the whole situation—like I’m in control again.  And not even really of the situation at large (although, truth be told, kind of, that too), bust mostly in control of myself again, and my emotions, which is most important for me I think.  For lots of people I think it’s important, but with my illness—especially I think, for me.  So I feel much better, but to get to my long belabored point…

I don’t want to gloat in my head for too long on how much that must have just pissed him off—especially the part where I emailed his attorney only, to get him under control as her client, and how he’s going to be paying her to reveal that and have a stern talking with him.  I feel bad for the girl kind of too—not really, but in a way, because I’m sure she’s the one now taking the brunt of his emotional abuse/lack of control/rage.  Not my problem though, and really she’s been a little bitch about the whole thing too, with her little attitude.  So to accuse her with quite obvious proof of her inability to handle her client wasn’t too hard on me.  But that’s what I mean—it felt so good, which kind of makes me dread feeling like that if I can’t shortly put it aside and forget about it.

It just feels so good that it worries me that it’s precisely the type of thing that could easily distract me from the end goal, throwing me off track to get distracted and emotionally obscure once more.  So I’ve been really pondering that hard, and although still enjoying the short-lived victory—trying to keep in mind the difference between a battle won, versus the war.

Later

Been thinking about this too, although it’s not been clear until this present moment.  Namely, if you cannot afford to buy something that represents your new meaning back to you—you can rather, change your impression of what you have, to the same effect.  It’s much more difficult, takes far greater skill in introspection and self-talk, but in the end—I think you might fare on a far greater scale than that which money could buy.  For example, and I don’t know if this is as fate would have it, mere coincidence or what, but some long time ago when I ached over the consciousness of others as towards my Star of David tattoo—my wonderful friend Dana told me that if you can’t afford to remove it, then change the meaning you hold of it.  I, at the time, was caught up in the strict meaning as it related to an ex-boyfriend who treated me horribly, and whatever sick manifestation I must have had to imprint forever this memory in my mind.

Now, luckily however, it reminds me mostly of several other things—like the innocence of first love, the veracity of my capability to love and to be loved, etc. etc.  I feel like I’m sitting on a stupid soapbox, but sometimes these are the kinds of things I think I have to remind myself of, no matter how the sound comes out.  I think of this presently in terms of clothes more so, sounds stupid likely perhaps to some, but style means something to me—it’s not just about the cloth to me, it’s about the meaning behind it.  To give you a simple example, my lovely (and hopefully) sister-in-law-to-be, gave me this WildFox Couture t-shirt I wanted terribly for Christmas.  It was over budget, but I found a 20% off coupon with free shipping, so she ordered it all the same.  It’s got an imprint of the heavens on it, and that meant something to me when I saw it, and it still does today.  I’ll try to explain to you in shoddy words…

It reminds me that the heavens are looking down upon me—they’re smiling and they’re protecting me in return for all of the good that I do and put out into the world.  It reminds me, this silly little t-shirt yes, that I am protected now within this world—and that it is a result of the conscious effort I have put in consistently over many many years to be a good person and put good into this world.  So, silly as you may or may not think it sounds, it means something to me, this t-shirt!  I love it.  Anyways, I don’t know where I was going with that anymore (hah!), but I have to get ready to go see Dr. Restuccio now.