The one in which we all act like mature adults.

"Where do you think you're going?" my mom asked as she saw me preparing to leave.

"Oh, nowhere," I replied. I smiled. I couldn't help it. I always smile when I'm hiding something.

"What? Do you have a hot date or something?"

"No, mom! Ugh. Gross. No. I do not have a date. Geez. Leave me alone." (Warning: moving in with your parents can absolutely, and will most likely, turn you into a whiny teenager all over again.)

I left and when I returned three hours later, I saw her still up on her computer, playing Farm Land, or Cafeville, or whatever the hell it's called.

"Hey," I said, "You still pretending to work?"

"Yep." She turned to face me. "So, where were you?"

I rolled my eyes. "Nowhere. Geez."

"Oh, come on! Just tell me! Were you smoking pot? Robbing a bank? What, do you think you're going to get in trouble or something?"

"No," I mumbled, "But I'm afraid you'll disapprove."

"Steph, you're 27-years-old. You're an adult. You can do whatever you want! I'm just curious as to what you were up to."

I sighed and admitted in a weak voice, "I was with Jon."

"Honey," my mom said it the most reasonable tone I've ever heard her use, "You're getting divorced. How you handle it is up to you. Everyone is different. If this is what you needed, then that's your decision and no one has a right to approve or disapprove. You have to do what's best for you."

After a pause, she asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," I sighed as I turned away, "not really."

"No problem. I'll just read about it later."

I couldn't help but laugh. 'Cause she's right. Here I am.

I skulked off to bed and opened my laptop to spill my guts about how I got hung up on just one simple statement: "you're getting divorced."

As soon as the words left her mouth, I was filled with shame. Because the truth is, I haven't been able to bring myself to say (both out loud and here on this blog), "What if we don't?"

What if we don't get divorced?

What if we tried AGAIN?

I haven't been able to get my fingers to type the words because a, I fear you'll all look at me as if I've just sprouted horns and a tail and b, I've been having this out-of-body experience and there's this whole other me following me around shouting, "Really? REALLY?! Again??? Are you effing kidding me?!"

It's difficult to come out and say that The Husband and I have been discussing the possibility of maybe, one day, trying again. Because, well, I DON'T KNOW. I don't know anything. Seriously. This is all a giant mystery to me. I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT TO DO.

I’m stuck in this black hole of doubt and there's a rope around here somewhere that I could use to pull myself out, but I Can't. Effing. Find it.

I have never, ever, felt so incredibly unsure in my whole entire life. Also, I've never felt so incredibly afraid of making the wrong decision.

Of course I want to be with him! Well, aside from the lying, my complete lack of trust, our incredible communication skills (please note the sarcasm) and the fact that we're two very different people. I mean, he's my HUSBAND. I love him. If not for all the bullshit, I would have happily stayed married to him forever.

But, good God, there's been a lot of bullshit. A lot of pain. A lot of anger. A lot of frustration. So much, in fact, that the other me is, at this very moment, sitting in the corner with her arms wrapped around herself, rocking back and forth while staring blindly off into space and humming. She has totally lost it.

Which means this relationship has finally done it. It has driven me insane.

So, I'm doing the only thing that makes sense. Putting it out there for the great WWW to discuss.

I want to know your thoughts and opinions on the subject. (Try to be gentle.)

How do you know when it's time to say enough is enough? How do you wade through all those muddy emotions to figure out which decision is the right one? How important is it to fight for a marriage? (Especially during a time when divorce has become a solution to, oh, everything.) And when do you finally realize that I'm a total imbecile, a masochist, a glutton for punishment, and you just quit reading my blog forever?

A very different Dear John.

Dear Jon,

The "I miss you's" came back a few days ago. It could have been the roller coaster or seeing you last week that brought them on... or maybe it's the fact that I'm moving again. For the third time. In less than six months.

It's an odd sensation to feel this way. It's kind of a mix between I miss you, I love you, let's work this out... and You. Fucking. Asshole.

I realize this isn't your fault. Well, my current circumstances aren't your fault. Well, not entirely, anyway.

I'm going to be 28 this year which is certainly old enough to have figured out what the hell I'm doing with my life, but alas, here I am, at the same company I've worked for since I met you nearly ten years ago. I'm making more money, but not nearly enough. I could have changed that at any time; I could have pursued a career, gone to school, something... and I didn't. My bad.

So, now I'm living with my mom. And, as tiny as it might be, I have my very! own! room! My own bed. My own space. It's awesome.

But... I'm living with my mom.

Those same anxious, fearful feelings have come back, the same ones I felt when I first moved out and away from you in February. So, most likely, this "I miss you" is really just "I miss my life" and it's being brought on by worry over what if this doesn't work out? What if living here is awful? What if this is the very worst thing to ever happen to me? I just want to go home!

Although, what if I'm wrong? Maybe I do want to work it out and give our marriage another billion chances. (God knows it might need 'em.) What if I chalk these feelings up to another move, another home that's not really mine, and I'm totally... wrong?

What if I feel this way because I'm in love with you and I really do miss you and I really do want to work it out?

I keep telling myself that I'm better off, that we're better off. I mean, two people who are as incompatible as we are, who have as many issues as we do, should just not be married. Right?

Right?

But... what if we could fix our mistakes? What if we could actually put in the effort and improve our marriage? Could you imagine what it'd be like? I tell people sometimes, "when things were good, they were really, really good." Could you imagine a lifetime of "really, really good?"

We'd be one of those couples that's married for so long that people are shocked and wide-eyed and prompted to say things like, "wow, that's so rare these days" when they hear the number. We'd be a total success story.

And, despite all we went through, I honestly never thought it'd be any different.

I keep dreaming of you. Well, not exactly. I keep dreaming that I've received an e-mail from you, something long and heart-wrenching about how sorry you are and how you've finally realized what a jackass you've been and how you'll go positively MAD if I don't come back.

The dreams never fail to wake me up and I open my eyes with the intense need to check my e-mail right this second. In fact, I did once. The second or third time I had the dream. It felt so real I was sure I was having a psychic moment and I jumped out of bed to tackle my laptop.

Of course, there was no e-mail and I've gotten pretty good since then about telling myself it's just a dream before abandoning the warmth of my bed just to be faced with the harsh reality of an empty in-box. My spiteful subconscious really should know better, anyway. You are so not the type to pour your heart out over anything or ever admit you were wrong.

I guess it's just wishful thinking.

I still love you.

Love,
Stephanie

Who needs Oprah when you have YouTube?

They "say" this is the last trailer... so, enjoy.

If you've read the books, what scene are you most looking forward to?

And, if you haven't read the books... WHY THE HELL NOT?!

Making things even more difficult.

I truly believe that divorce can be a blessing. Some people are better off apart. Whether or not The Husband and I fall into this category, I'm still not entirely sure. But my parents? Thank God they're no longer married.

There were plenty of good times. Vacations, Mario Kart tournaments. But, the sad fact is, I remember the fighting most of all. It was awful. No, they never physically hurt each other, but the yelling and screaming did enough damage.

I remember the night my mom called to tell me they were getting divorced. I was nineteen or twenty and living in Monterey with The Husband. The news was expected, but devastating nonetheless. I stood in The Husband's arms and cried. And then I got drunk.

I think it was especially difficult since it was my step-dad. The sperm donor and I had (have) nothing to do with each other (I know. I have daddy issues. Shocking.) but my step-dad was wonderful. Loving, supportive, easy-going. And being a part of each others life was a choice, which somehow made the relationship that much sweeter.

(Good God, the lectures. The man had maaaad lecturing skillz. Like, coma-inducing.)

Despite their divorce, my dad and I are still close. I still consider him my dad, he still considers me his daughter. And he's the one I've been living with for the last few weeks.

On Monday, my mom stopped by. I don't remember why. She wasn't there long. And I don't remember exactly what caused it, but she and my dad started arguing about blah blah blah and suddenly I was sixteen again and feeling incredibly awkward.

So, I did the only thing that felt natural.

I went to The Husband.

"Can I stop by?" I texted him

"Sure," he responded. "Should I be worried?"

I drove over there. I sat on the couch and Luke stretched out on my lap. We talked about nothing important and watched sports. It's been a long time since I've watched sports. Yeah. Still not very entertaining.

But it sure was comforting. Maybe not very smart because now I miss him like crazy and just want to go back (again and again and again), but... it was what I needed at the time.

And then I went and opened my big, fat mouth and said it'd be nice if, after everything, we could still be friends. And he agreed. Except now I wonder if that’s even possible. How can I be friends with someone who provokes such strong, passionate feelings? (And not necessarily good ones.)

So... you’re thoughts? Friends with an ex. Is it possible? Or am I just asking for a second serving of heartache?

Just ten more weeks.

This poster came out, like, forever ago. Like, I'm embarrassed to admit just how long ago. But what can I say? I've had other things on my mind.

I wish I could say I loved it, but sadly... I don't. They look fake. (Or is it just me?)

Comparisons, anyone?



I personally hated the color tones of Twilight, so I'm a bit concerned that it appears they've reverted to the same in Eclipse. But don't fret. I'm still optimistic. Enough for all of us.

Friday

Someday, when she calms down in one or two or eight years (I hope), I'll be able to get a full body shot. For now, this squirmy little pup is fairly vibrating with energy and it makes for a lot of really blurry photos.

By the way, you know how cats are incredibly graceful and always (for the most part) land on their feet? Well, puppies? Not quite as coordinated. They land on their face. Friday and I learned this the hard way.

Okay, I'm done.

I think it might be time to sit back and take a deep breath. Or eighty.

After The Husband and I had our own personal disaster date, and it finally became clear that he wanted me to get on with my life, that's exactly what I decided to do.

I bought a bed. I bought opera tickets for a date I don't even have yet. I went out with friends. I went on an upside-down roller coaster for the first time ever. And, last night, I went to dinner. With a boy.

Brian is an old friend. We worked together briefly years ago and clicked immediately. It was incredible how much we had in common. After he quit, we lost contact. I heard from him once in a blue moon. I heard he had gotten married and, shortly after, divorced.

Had The Husband and I not found ourselves in this shituation, I doubt I would have ever contacted him. But we did and suddenly I had a whole new perspective. Like the fact that I've built my entire life around one man and I have been the worst friend ever.

I’ve let friendships crumble around me. The only ones I've ever maintained are those with people I work with and only because there's no getting away from them.

So, out of the blue, I sent Brian a text message. Something along the lines of, "So, I think we should get together and catch up. Would that be weird?"

I mean, it had been three years since we last heard from each other. Maybe he was still married. Maybe he was remarried. Had kids. Moved out of state. Who the hell knows.

But then his reply: "Stephanie, it's good to hear from you. No, I don't think it's weird. What time works best for you?"

So, we made plans for dinner.

And then, Monday, I went on the upside-down roller coaster. I was determined. Resolved. Not nervous at all. Well, not until I got strapped in. Then I had a serious case of butterflies and I hope I don't throw up.

The verdict: shockingly meh. I didn't hate it. I didn't love it. I'd go on it again. But I wouldn't run for it. I'd rather go on Peter Pan, to be completely honest.

Unfortunately, I wasn't prepared for the depression that crept back in on me after it was over.

I couldn't help it. I kept thinking about how this was such a momentous occasion in my life. MY FIRST UPSIDE-DOWN ROLLER COASTER. EVER. I had confronted the beast. I had conquered. I was victorious. And my husband wasn't there for any of it.

After that, I didn't want to see Brian. Suddenly it was too much, too soon. Everything was going way too fast. An upside-down coaster and a date dinner with a boy all in the same week?

I wanted to cancel our plans. I almost did. I came this close.

I'm glad I didn't.

It was just like old times. It was like someone had rudely interrupted our conversation and we were getting right back to where we left off. We talked for four hours.

It still blows me away that there's someone on this earth that could share so many of the same views, opinions, and... everything (or so it seems) as me. Every other sentence had one of us exclaiming, "I know!"

It was great.

I can't explain the disappointment I felt when he told me he was in a relationship. I'm definitely not interested in getting involved right now. Could there have been a spark? Maybe. But I wasn't looking for one or even hoping for one. It's just that he's such a strong person, so steady and stable, and so... trustworthy. And right now? That's hot.

A friend e-mailed me recently and said “I hope you are hanging in there. (I know better than to hope you are doing well.)” But the fact is… I’m doing surprisingly well. I’m even happy a lot of the time. Sure, I struggle. I struggle with the thought that, deep down, I know exactly what I want, but I’m just too afraid to admit it. I struggle with the fear of making the wrong decisions.

But aside from that, there is happiness and I am grateful. But, still, it might be a bit too much too soon. I think I need some alone time. I want to lie on the beach. Take a walk with my camera. Go… somewhere. And do something that isn’t surprising or exciting or overwhelming.

I just want to relax and chill.

All by myself.

Me. Meh.

I got tagged in a meme. There were a lot of questions and if I answered every single one, we'd be here forever and I'd never make it to Disneyland. And this need, this uncontrollable drive, to get on that Godforsaken rollercoaster is undeniable.

Do you like bleu cheese?
Yes. Like, a lot. Like, once I was making a salad and wound up eating all the bleu cheese by itself while standing in the kitchen. Now, that was a tummy ache.

Have you ever smoked?
Only the second-hand variety.

Favorite type of food?
I’ll give you one guess.

Favorite hobby?
This. Reading. Baking. Photography. As if you didn’t already know.

Do you wear glasses/contacts?
Contacts. Can’t see a damn thing.

Name three thoughts at this exact moment:
One, I wonder if my new bed will be delivered this week.
Two, I can’t wait to sleep in my own room.
Three, I hope I don’t fall out of the rollercoaster. (Yes, I’m going back. Today. This afternoon. And I’m pretending I’m not nervous.)

Name three drinks you regularly drink:
Water. Grande nonfat toffee nut lattes. Water.

Current worry?
That the rollercoaster will stall while at the top of the loop, with all of us hanging upside down, praying for our lives.

Someplace you’d like to go?
Somewhere quiet. In the mountains. Where I can see the stars. Where the night is so dark it’d freak me out and prevent me from sleeping.

Would you be a pirate?
Hell yes, so long as Johnny Depp is my captain.

What songs do you sing in the shower?
I only sing in the car. And I am amazing.

Last thing that made you laugh?
The text messages I exchange with my friend Jason earlier. They were rude and crude and we debated whether crying after sex was a turn on and how long you should wait before putting out and I was going to share the whole thing, but after I read it again, I thought, no, my blog's not ready for this just yet.

I'd tag others, but it would take too long to list every single blogger I know and love so, do me a favor. Pick one of the above and answer it. Tell me something about you I don't know.

And... go.

Good and mad.

I think it was the embarrassment that did it; the realization that I was once again groveling for his love and attention that made me finally snap. And that's when the mad came. And I decided to wrap it around me like a warm blanket and snuggle in.

I had agreed to try "dating." I don't know why. We've already dated. Nearly ten years ago. And we fell in love and we got married and immediately decided to quit communicating. (Look at us, the poster couple for what not to do.)

We can't exactly go back in time and, quite frankly, I'm no longer interested in dating. But I agreed because he's my husband and the vows I took BEFORE GOD are important to me.

It was a disaster. He seemed perfectly comfortable. I felt terribly awkward. The longer we sat there, the more I began to resent him. Was I supposed to try to impress him? Convince him that I was worthy of his love and of being his wife?

And then there was this conversation:

Him: I don't want you to put your life on hold for me while I figure out what I want.
Me: Well, I can't exactly sign a year-long lease if there's still a chance we might work things out.
Him: Sure you can.

Shame washed over me. Because I had hoped for the best. I had even (sigh) gotten my hair cut. And when he said, "you didn't have to do that for me" I lied and said I didn't.

And even though I promised my girlfriends I would NOT HAVE SEX WITH MY HUSBAND, I couldn't resist shaving and wearing, ahem, very nice undergarments. Because, damn it, it's a girl's right to be prepared JUST IN CASE.

And as I was thinking of this and feeling pitiful, it suddenly hit me. I deserve better.

There are things I wish I had done differently. I wish I had put him first more often than I did. I wish I had taken more of an interest in the things that were important to him.

But the fact is, I haven’t done anything to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. I’ve done nothing for which I felt a need to hide or apologize. I haven’t lied or had relationships with other men.

And you know something else? I wish he had put me first more often. I wish he had taken more of an interest in the things that were important to me. I'm not the only one with room for improvement.

He likes to remind me that I'm always the one to leave him. He says one (one of too many to count) of the reasons he hesitates getting back together is because he doesn't want to go through that again.

Me. Leaving him.

And all I can say to that is, for once, it'd be nice to not have a reason to go.

Anyway. Mad? It's a lot better than feeling sad.