It's a trend...I got dumped tonight, and we had our first kiss

All day long I’ve been thinking about the advice and suggestions given here, and I realize that I have no power in this situation…


Oh but you do - your power lies in the fact that you’re going to get healthier and happier with your weight and health, that you will be more able to deal with the stresses and strains of everyday life and that you will be a stronger woman for all you have gone through.

They do say that the best revenge ever is to go off and live a happy life! You have all the power in the world.

How heartwrenching. As I’ve read your posts, I’ve kept thinking the same thing so I will say it to you:

Don’t turn this inward. You didn’t do something stupid, you’re not some blind fool. It sounds as though you are a grown-up who believed in something that wasn’t a complete relationship. How any man ( or woman, were the situation different ) could have a one-on-one relationship for 2+ years and not at some point look into their S.O.'s eyes and speak words of tenderness and love, is beyond me.

I understand the lack of sexuality and respect it, everyone has their own path in this regard. But…no spark? No gleam in the eye, no holding your hand and speaking words of love and adoration? Such are the things that make life worth living, and losing a person who you love is one of the most wretched things to endure.

Trust me, I know. :frowning:

Just don’t berate yourself, please. Your plate is so full, it sounds like. Keep sharing here and know that people understand your predicament and are pulling for you.


I thought I was doing so good.
I sort of had a meltdown yesterday. Started out as just a stressful day. When I pulled up the info for the sleep study I had to do last night, I realized there was an 18-page survey I had forgotten to print out and fill in. Though my son re-installed the printer, it is still not working, so I had to insert a timeslot into my life to run to the library and print it out. Except halfway through the morning I realized the library is closed for the holiday Monday. Then my daughter said she needed me to follow her out to Lorain to return a car she borrowed. I reminded her that I had to be at the study by 8:30. So now my after-5:30 list included: run to my brother’s to print out form. Run home, meet daughter, drive to Lorain, back to Lakewood, to the ATM, fast food, hospital early to fill in form. Do able, barely.

Halfway through the afternoon, checking the calendar, it hits me: I’m having major surgery in two weeks. And the person I was counting on to be my cheerleader, to call me and distract me when I’m having a rough time, to tell me jokes and lift my spirits, is the guy who dumped me. And though he said he’d be in touch after the surgery, I have no guarantee of that. That means, apart from my daughter, there is absolutely no one on this entire PLANET that cares enough about me personally to pick up the phone and check on me. No one. Not one soul.

I have girlfriends, and people at church, but they never call just to talk, or want to spend time with me. They have busy lives and while they care about me in a vague, general way, there is no one who sits at lunch and says, “I wish kittenblue was here”.

So I left work and headed to my brother’s, wished him a happy birthday and headed to the computer while they sat down to dinner. It took 20 minutes to get a connection on AOL dial-up, and then it dropped the connection just as I was trying to open Yahoo. I had no time left. I came upstairs as they were singing Happy Birthday, told them I never got connected and ran out. No one offered me a piece of birthday cheesecake, but then I really didn’t stop.

Got to the car and started crying. Drove to my house to meet my daughter and her fiance, and she’s very worried because I’m crying uncontrollably by now. Followed her out to Lorain and on the drive back I told her what was wrong, but couldn’t stop crying. Then the car (108,000 miles on a Cavalier) starts making ominous sounds when turning. Dropped them off, found $2 in change in my purse and raced through Rally’s for a cheeseburger because all I’ve eaten all day is a small pack of trail mix. I zoom to my bank to get cash in case I have to pay for parking at the hospital, and this ATM only gives out cash in $20’s. I have $15 dollars to my name till payday, so no cash. Still crying, I get on the highway and head to the hospital a half-hour early so I can do that paperwork and fill it out.

I stop crying in the parking lot, but it’s a huge effort. The hospital instructions said to head to Admitting…there are absolutely no signs that say Admitting. As I’m wandering the empty halls, some woman with a namebadge walks by and I ask for directions. She takes me to Registration (also not listed on signs) but no one is there, it’s still the holiday. She makes some calls, then takes me to the Emergency Room, where a handful of people are sitting around watching some cheesy movie about a battered wife…they are discussing the differences between what really happens at the battered woman shelter, and how the movie portrays it. It takes 1/2 hour to get registered because it’s the holiday and no one seems to know that a sleep study is taking place on the holiday. But this bureaucratic snarl seems to calm me down, and though my entire face is red and blotchy from crying, I get through the study and sleep (with the aid of Ambien) and fortunately it was a dreamless sleep.

Today I must find a camper to borrow so my sister and her family will have a place to sleep when they arrive this weekend (since my son and I now live with Grandma, there are no spare rooms anymore, and they can’t afford a motel, so this is all my fault, really) I must clean house, and do laundry, and work on a quilt, and a baby dress, and send up prayers to the automotive gods to spare my car for two more weeks, and return books to the library, and find something in this house to eat that isn’t encased in three layers of plastic wrap and freezer wrap and then I’m going to log in to the weight-loss surgery message board and start making some friends.

And maybe dye my hair.

kittenblue, are you at work? I tried to send you a message via aol.

No. I’m home. My email isn’t aol, and for some reason it wasn’t checked to receive doper email, but it is now, so check my profile, and I’ve turned my AIM on, so you could try that too.

Trying times, eh?

*When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For Even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

But if in your fear, you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.*

-From The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran

Oh, and equally relevant from the same book:

Your joy is your sorrow unmaksed.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.

It’s a great work – truly inspirational, and uplifting. It helped me get through some lonely, tough times. I highly recommend it.

Note to self- find Kittenblue’s personal information. Block caller ID and call at 2 am.

“How can you say I don’t care? Didn’t you get the bouquet and dog heart that I sent?”

“No! And who is this?”

“You didn’t? That’s the last time I trust UPS! I knew I should have just carved love poetry on my chest and e-mailed the image to you.”

“Who is this?”

“I know what you did last summer.”

“What the hell?”

“Alright, I don’t know what you did last summer. Frankly, I’m none too sure what I did last summer.”

“I’m going to hang up and call the police!”

“The police can’t stop me. I’m protected by an ancient and powerful talisman that I bought on Ebay!”

On a serious note-

Never assume that nobody cares. There may be a million reasons why these people haven’t asked for your number. I once knew a man for about six months before I realized I’d simply never thought to ask his last name.

Unless literally every room is occupied, I say borrow sleeping bags and have them sleep in the living room. Or, if the weather is cool enough, borrow tents and have them camp in the back yard.

Skip it. You’ve already got too much to do and too much to worry about.

If you feel you really must contribute a handmade gift to these people, unless these projects are very near completion, drop them in favor of something simpler.

Oh, so THAT’s how it is! ‘Sure, I’ll post on the SDMB. But none of YOU are worthy of being my friend.’. Fine :sniff: I know when I’m not wanted! I don’t have to sit here and take this kind of abuse!

I can go sit somewhere else and receive an entirely different kind of abuse.

Doc is bringing up something that had occured to me as well. You are doing too much for other people. Either they are taking you for granted (I don’t know whether or not they are), or you are trying to please too many people. Do they truly appreciate this? I don’t know whether they do or not. Either way, there is no way that you HAVE to do all these things for other people. So just don’t. Really look at things clearly, objectively, and just say, “NO” to stuff that you don’t absolutely HAVE to do.

Good idea.

It’s not your problem whether these people have enough money for a motel or not. Perhaps you promised them that you’d clean out the camper, and you feel you must make good on your promise. Well, too bad, I say. Tell them that the plans have changed.


Exactly. Do something simpler, or just buy something. It can wait.

I know people who try to do too much, try to “give give give” and then are exhausted. They are frustrated because they feel that they are not appreciated enough (I have no idea if this is the case with you) or they are frustrated and exhausted because they have so much stuff that they MUST (absolutely MUST DO OR THE WORLD WILL COME TO A FREAKIN’ END) do. Bullshit. It does not HAVE to be done.

One of my friends told me, (during a moment of extreme stress, where I felt like I was going to be “forced” to do something that I very much did not want to do), “The only thing that you have to do in this world is die.” It’s true. You don’t HAVE to do this stuff. Substitute, compensate, delegate, or just apologize and say that you can’t do it anymore.

If you stress yourself out by doing too much, and then complain, complain, complain about how exhausted you are, you only have yourself to blame. STOP DOING SO MUCH.

I have a friend who kind of does this too—it’s a little different than what you are describing, but she sets herself up with behaviors that she is CONVINCED that she must do, and then is miserable as a result. One thing I remember was when she bought some new shoes to wear on a vacation. The new shoes were not broken in and she got horrible blisters. The rest of us tried to offer suggestions for her relief: go barefoot inside on the carpeted floor. Wear socks on the carpeted floor. (We were inside most of the time, so this was feasable.) Nope. She refused to do it. It would “look funny,” even though people around us all looked funnier. (Trust me on this.) So she wore shoes that were absolutely torturing her, and making her blisters larger and larger.

I figured that she enjoyed being miserable. Hey, why try helping someone who enjoys being miserable?

Now, I’m not accusing you of this, at all. I’m just saying, “Stop assuming that you MUST do these things.” To use a trite, tedious cliché, “think outside the box.” Just stop doing too much. Just stop it. This should be your “Independence Day” in more ways than one.

Dang, Doc, you’re so much more creative than I am! I was just going to call her at 2 am and tell her I wasn’t wearing underwear. Or ask her if she was wearing underwear.

So email me her contact info and I’ll just call her to discuss undergarments at 2:30 instead.

Thank you, DocCathode for making me laugh! Usually the only person who calls me panting at 2 am is my ex-husband, and he speaks so low I have to keep asking him to repeat himself! (And no, he’s not calling because he cares, he’s calling because he’s lonely after the second divorce and keeps hoping that, since I haven’t had sex for 10 years, I will give in and give him some…to which I reply, “not as long as they make AA batteries”)

So I guess you’re all waiting to find out what I actually did today. I read the paper. I called a few people, looking for a camper. Read the Dope…even got brave and wandered into Great Debates, but snuck back out before anyone noticed me. I IM’ed Seeker74 (Thanks!) and talked to Lillith Fair. I got up to go to the library, but only got as far as the bed, where I took a nap. (That sleep study wasn’t all that restful) Then my daughter called, and I picked her up from work and watched K-Pax at her apartment while they shopped for a microwave and groceries. Then I came home, and ate some dinner, and took out the trash. Now I’m heading for bed (the nap wasn’t that long).

The quilt is almost done, so even though I am not philosophically opposed to packing away another unfinished quilt, I want to get it done and out of here…same with the outfit, which is cut out and quick to do…and sewing is very theraputic for me. This is my day off, so this is when I clean…but hey, there’s always tomorrow. Oh, and the other quilt I’m making is spread all over the worktable in the living room, and company is coming, so I’ve got to box that up…the baby’s only two weeks old, so there’s plenty of time.

As to the camper situation…well, I can’t ask two 50-year-olds with arthritis and thyroid problems to sleep on the floor, and my family has always been frugal. And I know exactly what their financial situation is, so if I can get my brother to agree to let my niece sleep at his house so she can bond with her cousins, then I will either sleep on the couch so they can have the double bed, or I’ll sleep in my son’s room (he’ll either be in jail after tomorrow or he’ll spend a lot of time at his girlfriend’s).