Being Single, Breakups, Bucket List, Cheaters, Dating, Dating Tips, Dysfunctional, Follow Me!, Goals, Gross, Life, Marriage, Memories, Quotes, Recovery Help, Red Flags, Relationships

Happiness Reset

IMG_0797.JPG When It first really hit me that I was going to have to divorce my alcoholic husband, I went into a state of shock. I had put so much faith, hope and trust in him and our future that the realization of divorce hit me like a brick wall. But knowing I couldn’t erase the past or fix an alcoholic, I knew I had reached an important point in my life and one of two choices had to be made: 1.) Act like a victim and take the “woah is me” path that my parents hoped I’d take, living a life of victim, where my son would eventually have a heartbreaking life of similar dysfunction B.) Get the hell out, cut out the toxic people, find happiness and give my son a fighting chance. I chose B. Unfortunately not everyone has the strength to choose B. I still worry about my ex-boyfriend and his children, and how his choice to return to a toxic marriage will ultimately destroy him and his children. I do pray for them. But it’s a choice he made. And anyone who makes a choice like that is not for me.

Being Single, Breakups, Cheaters, Dating, Dysfunctional, Follow Me!, Gross, Life, Marriage, Memories, Quotes, Recovery Help, Red Flags, Relationships

IMG_0763.JPG Getting back together – or staying with – someone who lied and cheated is NOT a prize to me. I’m sorry, all those posts about working it out annoy me. Folks shouldn’t lie and cheat in the first place, and in my opinion the only one who wins in those cases are the people who lied and cheated.

Welcome to the series of posts that started 1YearOfSingle.

Being Single, Breakups, Cheaters, Dating, Dating Tips, Dysfunctional, Gross, Life, Marriage, Memories, Parents, Quotes, Recovery Help, Red Flags, Relationships

Stay Together for the Kids – Said No Therapist, Ever

IMG_0761.JPG There was a guy I dated that went back to his abusive ex wife for the kids. So instead of making a peaceful loving home for his kids he chose to continue the fighting and aggravation so that he didn’t have to spend money on a divorce. My father did the same thing years ago. After years of struggling to have a relationship with my father I finally cut ties. My ex doesn’t realize-and I’m not about to tell him-that by saving a few dollars he could potentially be losing his children forever. This decision he made is one of those decisions that changed my opinion of our relationship forever. If you can’t save your children I don’t want you. And that’s when I decided to let him go.

Being Single, Dating, Dating Tips, Dysfunctional, Gross, Life, Marriage, Memories, Quotes, Recovery Help, Red Flags, Relationships, SomeECards

Divorced or Not Divorced? That was the question!

IMG_8363.PNG If you’ve ever dated someone who has cheated and lied, you may have gone through this. Two boyfriends ago I was dating a guy who claimed had filed divorce paperwork (we were both in the middle of divorces at the time). After we broke-up I decided to call the county where he supposedly filed and asked the woman to confirm. “He said he filed already,” I explained. She put me on hold. After a few minutes she returned, verified neither his name nor his wife’s were in the system, “There’s no paperwork under either of those names.” Embarrassed, I explained that we had already broken-up, but still wanted to look into a few things. She laughed like she’s heard this multiple times before.

Because my ex and I were still in communication at that time, I told him – among other things – that he indeed was NOT divorced, and had never even filed like he said he did multiple times. Instead of feeling guilty, or horrified, he had the audacity to act mad at me for “checking up on him.” Ladies – Men – if you feel like you have to play detective, it’s not a relationship. And if the asshole acts indignant, with no sympathy, empathy, or is a complete asshole, then the breakup may be for for the best.

And quite frankly for me, it pissed me off enough to help me heal.

Answer This!, Being Single, Dating, Dating Tips, Fitness, Funny!, Gross, Life, Marriage, Recommendations, Relationships

Take a breath. Or not?

20140630-181658-65818198.jpg
The levels of compatibility in dating are endless. It obviously starts with appearance and stature, but goes well into things like fresh breath quotient.

I’m guessing some folks don’t think twice about smelling stink breath, but if you’re like me your stank radar is on high alert.

If you were sitting next to this woman on your ride home, would you say anything?

Bucket List, Funny!, Gross, Life, My List Items, To-Do

My leg is JACKED!

Ever have a cardiologist tell you your veins were incompetent? I’ve known morons that were incompetent and some men that were incompetent, and even some moronic men that were incompetent, but my veins? Scary!Clearly I'm upset that my leg looks nasty.

One of my Bucket List items is the removal of some incompetent veins in my leg. For God’s sake I’d like to be able to wear a skirt in the summer without scaring small children. This is basically a sterile way of saying my leg looks like someone beat it with a Louisville Slugger.Now, because I am prone to exaggeration, I will tell you that it’s really not that bad – so maybe not a Louisville Slugger – a Sur La Table meat tenderizer, perhaps.

Welcome the endless cardiologist visits to Huntington Medical Group on Long Island, New York. Because after all, if you’re going to have cardiology issues, what better place to go than a town apply named similarly to the sunny beaches of California? My leg is jacked!

But alas, no sun and surf in Huntington Medical Group, just sunny receptionists and a very knowledgeable cardiologist who explained why my vein is as useless as a soggy balloon animal. And that before surgery I have to try a “compression stocking.”

Have you ever tried to put on a compression stocking? What about a tourniquet? Tried a tourniquet?

A compression stocking isn’t like anything you’ve ever stuffed your body into before. Picture Spanx on steroids. Then make it tighter. Apparently compression stockings are supposed to squeeze the life out of you so much so that it forces any remaining body liquids back up to your heart. This can’t possibly be good, but the insurance company thinks it’s fabulous. Probably because they’ve never tried to wear tourniquets.

So I sat on my bathroom floor with what I thought was going to be a helpful pile of sturdy nylon, when in reality it was a torture device that terrorists use in order to bring on sudden panic attacks of the likes of which no war hero has ever seen before. After struggling with the thing for a good ten minutes, I was only able to get it up to my knee. At that point I felt like a surgeon was going to bust into my bathroom and sever my leg. I had to remind myself that I’m not diabetic and my leg is fine, but nervous panic sweat kept popping out on my forehead. Get this tourniquet off me!

Most nylon-wearing folks already know that with typical stockings, you can stretch them open enough to pull them up your leg, then insert your other leg into the remaining stocking hole. With compression stockings, you can’t do that. You can’t “spread” them or stretch them because they’re already tight as hell. In fact, I’m pretty sure if you looked up “tight as hell” in the Urban Dictionary, there would be a picture of compression stockings. And possibly a secondary image of me on the bathroom floor covered in a panic sweat.

Can you imagine paying $60 for nylons that do nothing better than send you to a psych ward? And to think that psych wards would wrap people in arm-tight jackets. No wonder patients rarely recovered. I know the Kings Park Psychiatric Center in Kings Park, New York is closed, but I would still consider checking around the decaying closets for any remaining compression stockings. Needless to say, I had to rip mine off before my mind punctured the barrier between sane and schizoid.

And unfortunately I now have the “privilege” of explaining to the cardiologist that the compression stockings are about as competent as my vein. Xanax

Funny!, Gross, Life

Compression Stockings: Tourniquets from Hell. Aka: Spanx on Steroids

Ever have a cardiologist tell you your veins were incompetent? I’ve known morons that were incompetent and some men that were incompetent, and even some moronic men that were incompetent, but my veins? Scary.

One of my Bucket List items is the removal of some incompetent veins in my leg. For God’s sake I’d like to be able to wear a skirt in the summer without scaring small children. This is basically a sterile way of saying my leg looks like someone beat it with a Louisville Slugger. Now, because I am prone to exaggeration, I will tell you that it’s really not that bad – so maybe not a Louisville Slugger – a Sur La Table meat tenderizer, perhaps.

Welcome the endless cardiologist visits to Huntington Medical Group on Long Island, New York. Because after all, if you’re going to have cardiology issues, what better place to go than a town apply named similarly to the sunny beaches of California?

But alas, no sun and surf in Huntington Medical Group, just sunny receptionists and a very knowledgeable cardiologist who explained why my vein is as useless as a soggy balloon animal. And that before surgery I have to try a “compression stocking.”

Have you ever tried to put on a compression stocking? What about a tourniquet? Tried a tourniquet?

A compression stocking isn’t like anything you’ve ever stuffed your body into before. Picture Spanx on steroids. Then make it tighter. Apparently compression stockings are supposed to squeeze the life out of you so much so that it forces any remaining body liquids back up to your heart. This can’t possibly be good, but the insurance company thinks it’s fabulous. Probably because they’ve never tried to wear tourniquets.

So I sat on my bathroom floor with what I thought was going to be a helpful pile of sturdy nylon, when in reality it was a torture device that terrorists use in order to bring on sudden panic attacks of the likes of which no war hero has ever seen before. After struggling with the thing for a good ten minutes, I was only able to get it up to my knee. At that point I felt like a surgeon was going to bust into my bathroom and sever my leg. I had to remind myself that I’m not diabetic and my leg is fine, but nervous panic sweat kept popping out on my forehead.

Most nylon-wearing folks already know that with typical stockings, you can stretch them open enough to pull them up your leg, then insert your other leg into the remaining stocking hole. With compression stockings, you can’t do that. You can’t “spread” them or stretch them because they’re already tight as hell. In fact, I’m pretty sure if you looked up “tight as hell” in the Urban Dictionary, there would be a picture of compression stockings. And possibly a secondary image of me on the bathroom floor covered in a panic sweat.

Can you imagine paying $60 for nylons that do nothing better than send you to a psych ward? And to think that psych wards would wrap people in arm-tight jackets. No wonder patients rarely recovered. I know the Kings Park Psychiatric Center in Kings Park, New York is closed, but I would still consider checking around the decaying closets for any remaining compression stockings. Needless to say, I had to rip mine off before my mind punctured the barrier between sane and schizoid.

And unfortunately I now have the “privilege” of explaining to the cardiologist that the compression stockings are about as competent as my vein.

Dysfunctional, Gross, Life, Red Flags, Relationships

Close Your Mouth, Cow-Girl

Dear Diary
Theres a cow chewing her cud behind me on my commuter train home. It almost reminds me of the first date I had with my ex-husband. What part of his mouth dangling open and food sloshing around in there did I find appealing? Oh wait, I didn’t. I do recall on my first date with my ex-husband, I actually made a joke about his mouth being opened when he chewed. His reply was something like, “That’s who I am and I’m not changing for anyone.” Apparently my need to fulfill my mother’s sick need to have me get married to this guy outweighed common manners… or logic, for that matter.

Thankfully the train is about to pull in and I can bid a mental adieu to our not-so-fair cowgirl.

PS> I promise to take a  photo next time