i'm sorry i'm not all sunshine and rainbows

"If you have ever lost someone very important to you, then you already know how it feels. If you haven't, you cannot possibly imagine it."

-Lemony Snicket

yeah so i'm sorry i can't be all sunshine and rainbows and happy little elves in an enchanted forest for you. but was i ever?

i've always thought from the age of about 14 to 29 i was a bit out of my mind. like, not actually out of my mind, but just a bit unhinged like a crazed teenager. i could never be calm or just be satisfied or just be present. there was a neurotic anxiety burning within me that could never quite be put out.

and then i met the bolshevik. and i was able to let go of all that. i could finally calm down and "just be." it was like i finally had some peace within me.

maybe you don't really know me. maybe you think you know me, but you've only known this one side of me. like plato's allegory of the cave, you thought that was all there was, but there was more to the shadows than you thought. i'm sorry to disappoint you.

and yeah, i just alluded to plato. i'm fucking smart.

the person you knew was content. she had a sense of fulfillment. she was happy and often reflected that life was pretty good and that she really didn't want or need much more. she was living the life she wanted.  in fact, she often thought she was living a life that was way better than any life she could've imagined for herself. and she knew that was a pretty awesome situation to be in.

but that's all gone.  and i'm sorry if that's difficult for you.

so you see me at the staff meeting and i'm all bubbly telling you about some book-themed activity i'm doing, or some training i'm leading.  and i smile and can project my voice above the auditorium and i say something clever and everyone thinks i'm fine. i'm just a little ball of energy! maybe it's charming. maybe it's annoying. but no one complains. people like that girl.

but that is now a facade. it's a facade i put on every day so i can pretend to function and sometimes i get so busy and distracted that for a brief moment i can even convince myself it's real. i'm that good.

but it's not real.

and if that's the story you want to read, then read no further.  because this obviously isn't the story for you.

"And if you liked mischief, a grand old time, or trophies,  you would know which book to read, and you could throw the rest of them away. [...] You should know that the story that follows will be very different from the story of Gary or Emily or the family of cunning little chipmunks [...] the main difference being the amount of unhappiness, horror, and despair. [...] So if you wish to avoid an unpleasant story you had best put this book down." 

- Lemony Snicket, from The Miserable Mill 

standing with a stranger

this all has happened at lightning fast speed ... the condoms, the 54 hour disappearance, the break-up e-mail, the shanghai talk, and then i'm in a hong kong court house signing papers to destroy the one thing that is most precious to me.

the bolshevik and i stand side by side on lines and hand in our papers and then a person behind a window hands them back with corrections that need to be made. over and over again for three hours.

why does the bolshevik have a full middle name on his passport but only a middle initial on our marriage certificate? this is unacceptable to the bureaucracy of the court workers.

they question if he's really the same person. i question that myself.  

he fills out an affidavit explaining how middle initials work in the united states. he finds every place where his name is mentioned in the pages upon pages of documents.  then he has to write "also known as" with his super confusing alias which is just his exact same name but with a middle initial.

we wait on more lines and fill out more papers. we're sent to different windows and more lines and more papers.

the whole time he stands there like i am nothing to him. i am no one. i am not the former love of his life. i am not his former partner in crime. i am of no consequence to him anymore. i am nothing but a burden he is finally ridding himself of.  as though i had somehow attached myself to him unfairly, like a tick he's finally able to burn off.

i use the time to ask questions for any hope of closure or some sort of explanation that makes sense. i get one word answers and useless platitudes.

waiting at a window, an elderly chinese man tries to interrupt and cut ahead of us as the woman behind the counter is explaining to us that a judge will contact us in 30 days. the elderly man hovers way too close to me, shoves his arm in front of my face and waves a form at the woman to get her attention. i turn to him and tell him he needs to "back the fuck up." he pretends not to understand what i am saying, but i think my tone is quite clear regardless of linguistic differences.

when it's all over i deliver the final lines i've rehearsed in my head:

i don't understand why you're doing this

i'm the only person in this world who loves you, who you confide in, who you even talk to

and you're pushing me away

so now you'll go back to your apartment surrounded by your air jordans

and you'll hang out with work acquaintances you don't really like that much

and you'll go out to clubs you don't actually enjoy

and that'll be your life now

that's what you want

well i hope that works out for you

i ask him if he has anything to say, and he tells me he's already said it all.  but he's said nothing.

and then we walk away.

the stuff of nightmares

in another lifetime, i had met a handsome ne'er-do-well in college ... i moved in with him too quickly, and thought everything he did was golden. turns out he was a compulsive liar and an alcoholic, but i only realized that after the fact. after being together four years he proposed, but luckily i had the good sense to say no. but during that four years i was blindly in love with the handsome ne'er-do-well. and due to my daddy issues, which i will not go into here, my biggest fear was that the handsome ne'er-do-well wouldn't love me back.

throughout the four years i had one recurring nightmare. the nightmare took many strange forms and transpired in various vivid scenarios, but each time it was the same ... one day the handsome ne'er-do-well would stop loving me for no reason at all, and i'd be left in the hellish aftermath of never understanding what happened, and not knowing how to "get him back."

and when i met the bolshevik it was the same thing. same nightmare, but recurring a bit less often.  maybe it was because i was older and stronger and more confident in myself. and of course i was so confident in this one golden thread that linked the bolshevik and i together.  because i knew one thing and one thing only: that the bolshevik adored me and would never hurt me. and this thread would just go one forever, leading us through our lives together.

sometimes the nightmare would be that the bolshevik met someone else and had instantly decided to be with that woman instead of me. this of course would be explained to me very matter-of-factly ... "oh hey ms. dewey decimal, meet so-and-so.  she's really awesome so i'm just going to be with her now ... why are you so upset? what's your problem?" so that was one scenario in my nightmares.

the other scenario was much more cruel ... the dream would begin and i was in this reality where the bolshevik had already explained to me that he didn't want to be with me anymore. but he wouldn't have a reason. he would just be done. and i'd be left roaming this dream world broken apart, not understanding how he could just turn on a dime and stop loving me.

of course then i would wake up and realize that it was all a nightmare and that it's impossible for people to just instantly stop loving you.

except this time.

because this time the nightmare that has haunted me my entire adult life has quite literally come true. i throw the bolsheviks lifelines so that at any time he could grab onto one and be led back to me. even the morning in family court when he flew to hong kong to dissolve our marriage, i gave him one last chance to tell me he loves me and that this is all some awful mistake.  but he never wants the lifeline.

and now i am left roaming this surreal dreamscape, completely broken and empty inside, not understanding how the bolshevik could just turn on a dime and stop loving me.  but this time it's actually real.

say my name bitch

Dear Facebook,
when i got married and changed my Facebook status to "married," Facebook automatically added the last name "bolshevik" to my profile URL without my permission.  I have never been Ms. Dewey Decimal Bolshevik.  i am Ms. Dewey fucking Decimal.  and i do not appreciate having another person's name attached to my name.  crazy as it might sound, i consider myself to be my own full individual person. and this was NOT done to the bolshevik's profile, only to mine.  god forbid a man gets bogged down with being attached to a woman!

now i am getting divorced and I have changed my Facebook status to "divorced" and yet "bolshevik," the name of the man who is so heartlessly leaving me, is still in the URL of my profile page.

i want this removed immediately.  it never should have been added in the first place, and it absolutely should not be there now.  Facebook should not be making decisions about which last names women should be using.

Sincerely,
Ms. Dewey Decimal.

i'm just waiting ... an-ti-ci-pating

a brief history of waiting for the bolshevik

6 hours - i was looking for a scissors so i could trim our passport photos to the right size when i found the condoms in his drawer.  the same drawer he had stashed his wedding ring in.  he was at work, so i texted him and asked him for an explanation even though i knew there was nothing he could say to explain this.  he wrote back, "let's talk tonight."  and then i drank half a bottle of whisky. and i waited.

54 hours - we had said we were going to work it out, try harder, see each other more, go to couples counseling.  "you're worth fighting for," he had said.  back in hong kong for a week before school started, no one else was back yet so i was getting sad and lonely thinking about the state of things.  i texted him on a Friday morning that i was feeling really blue and needed some TLC.  i asked him to call me after work. he said he would. friday passes.  i wonder if he's on a bender.  saturday morning comes and goes and i wonder if he's at the apartment of another woman.   saturday afternoon passes and any bender should be over but he still isn't answering my calls or responding to my texts.  by saturday evening i'm convinced something has actually happened to him.  sunday morning i send someone over to his apartment to confirm the bolshevik is alive, and it turns out he is choosing not to talk to me.  i text and call and try to find out what the hell is happening but nothing.  then around 5pm i receive an email from Apple telling me i am no longer a part of the bolshevik's Apple Family Sharing Plan.  so to be fair, the bolshevik first broached the "divorce talk" through Apple.  fucking Apple.  then five minutes later the bolshevik emails me himself and says he doesn't want to be married to me anymore.  doesn't want to be a team.  it's too hard.  he can't do it anymore.  doesn't want to.

during this 54 hour period i drink half a bottle of champagne, six whiskeys on the rocks, and four glasses of malbec.

then i send an expletive filled text telling the bolshevik to be a man and tell me this to my face, because he still won't answer my calls.

25 hours is how long i have to wait to talk to the bolshevik about his batshit crazy email because talking to me that evening was too much for him.  i drink several more glasses of wine. and i wait. the following day is my first day back at work after the holidays and i have to answer questions like "how was your xmas break?  you and the bolshevik go somewhere special?"  i try to make it through the day but i am empty inside.  and i wait.

4.5 days - i convince the bolshevik to see me the next weekend to talk things out.  we can work this out, i say.  he is just really stressed and confused and couldn't possibly mean what he is saying.  we're so great together.  he can't possibly let that go.  i wait 4 days to fly to shanghai to see him.  i stay at a friend's place.  i want to come over straight away in the morning but he's hungover and asks me if i can wait until 2pm.  i tell him i will wait no longer than noon.

26 hours is how long i have to stay in shanghai after finding out that my marriage is over.  he doesn't want to try.  and i cry and i wait to go home, hoping never to return to the mainland again because it's all tainted with memories of him.

5 days - is how long i have to wait for the results of my extensive STD screening.

8 hours after i text him i am graced with a phone call ... actions have consequences but not any consequences that the bolshevik is willing to own up to.

11 days ... so he truly doesn't love me anymore?  well if that's the case then put me out of my misery. 11 days ago the bolshevik agreed to meet me in a hong kong court house so we can amicably dissolve our marriage.  11 days later he confirms that he really is going through with this.

4 days until "D-Day" ... it's weird to be waiting around for someone to divorce you.  especially when you're still deeply in love with that person and desperately wish you could stay married to him. but he's shown so little compassion for me.  such little concern for my feelings or my well-being. then he says he cares so deeply about me, but none of his actions through this process have been caring at all.  is he purposefully trying to torture me?  is it his plan to be as horrible to me as possible so i won't want him back?  or is he just so oblivious to the emotions of others that he doesn't see the purgatory he continually puts me in?

maybe i'll never know.  all i can do it wait.

girl you better try to have fun no matter what you do

but he's a fool.

everyone tells me how i'm doing so great. "you're doing so great!" they say. "i can't believe how composed you are!" they tell me "i can't believe how calm you seem!" or "i'm so impressed you're at work!"

and then i roll my eyes and think about how the hours would stretch out before me endlessly if i chose to stay home.  how it would be the worst form of torture to be in my apartment alone with nothing but the thoughts and questions of "how the fuck did this happen?" swirling in my head, and all the memories of 9+ years with The Bolshevik Who Shall Not Be Named haunting me.  so yeah, i'll be at work.  it's the only stable thing i have.  what else would i do?

my beloved mother once told me about a time when she hurt her knee and her doctor told her she had to walk with a cane.  not because she actually needed a cane, but to signal to everyone else that she was having a physical issue and that they needed to respond accordingly, treat her with extra special care.

i live my life without canes.

you will never see me cry.  you will never see me break down hysterically wailing with sorrow. you will never see me huddled in a corner clasping onto a bottle of booze while listening to portishead. you will never see the girl behind the curtain. i will hide this from you at all costs.

i am out in the fresh air enjoying a hike?

why? i have no fucking idea why.

the other day i went on a hike with two friends. it was beautiful and picturesque and i cried to myself when they weren't looking. and afterward we had a luxurious multi-course lunch at a seaside restaurant with wine and i even ate dessert.  and they took photos and said it was the best day ever. "BDE!" they said. and as i finished a glass of port and looked out at the rocky islands out in the ocean i thought to myself that by any normal standard this really was the best day ever. but for me it was actually just an exercise in distraction. it was just something for me to do until it was time to do the next thing and then the next thing until i finally get to take a sleeping pill and go to bed.

so outwardly i am doing great. just fucking great. i do all the "right" things, just like i'm supposed to. i am eating healthy (now that i can keep food down) and i am exercising every day and i go to work and i obsessively schedule activities for every waking moment outside of work so i never have to be alone with my own thoughts. and then eventually i tucker myself out until it's a reasonable hour and i finally get to go to bed and it can all be over for a while. rinse. repeat.

until one of these day when i can actually enjoy things again.

I've reached my "ideal weight" and so can you!

Hey ladies!  Let me tell you about an awesome new fad in weight loss!  It's called the Divorce Diet! Now, just like juicing and raw foods diets, there is some prep work that you have to do ahead of time before you can get started.  But luckily no fancy equipment or specials meals need to be purchased!

First, get yourself into a long-term loving relationship with a partner you trust who you feel has the potential to be your life-long companion.

Then be with this person for many years, maybe even a decade, living together, planning out your futures together, and enjoying all the great shared moments that your entwined lives have to offer.  Allow yourself to believe you have found "the one."

If possible, pick someone emotionally stunted.  This will come in handy later.

Then, when you least expect it (if you've made a proper emotionally stunted choice in partners) this person will out of nowhere tell you that they have cheated on you and that even though it was only once they don't feel like they are "in love with you" anymore.  And the emotional work of cleaning up the mess they made is just too hard and it's easier to just end it.  There will also be some contradictions like them telling you they love you but they don't ever want to see you again, but they deeply care about you, but could you just go cry over there because it's making them a smidge uncomfortable. The more contractions the better really, because the less it makes sense, the more you will suffer.

And that is when the weight loss magic will happen!  You will feel nauseous all the time.  Then, when thinking of these nonsensical contradictions or picturing infidelities, you will feel even extra nauseous.  You won't want to eat any food, even though you love food!  It's perfect!  And when you do eat food, you most likely will vomit soon after.  You may find that things that previously brought you joy, like a nice glass of red wine with dinner, will also leave you vomiting.  For those with gag reflexes, even mundane activities like brushing your teeth or trying to swallow the sleeping pills your psychiatrist prescribed you will also lead to vomiting.

And then you can watch the pounds just melt off!

You may be asking yourself, "Self ... what happens if I run out of food in my system and my stomach is completely empty?"  Well don't worry, there's always bile!  Bile be gone!  I'm sure you don't need it anyway!

So get going girl, and reach that ideally emaciated you!

Side effects may include but are not limited to: dizziness, fainting spells, hoarseness or sore throats, coughing, frequent heartburn, reflux, anemia, anorexia, complete shut down of your immune system, and possible death.

bye bye bolshevik

let's just pretend i've been here the entire time ...

it is with great sadness and true despair that i admit to you, dear blog readers, that my beloved bolshevik is leaving me.  says he's not "in love" with me anymore.  says if he met me now he'd only want me as a "best friend."

well what the fuck does that mean?

i have resigned myself to never contact him again so i cannot ask all these burning follow-up questions that have popped into my mind since that fateful saturday when he told me he doesn't want me anymore.

what does it mean to be "in love" with someone you've been with nearly a decade?  certainly we're not in those beginning stages of mad passionate love that feels almost like being on drugs.  no.  that only lasts a few months.  are we teammates and best friends and lovers and partners in crime?  i thought so.  isn't that what long term love is?  but i guess he wants the fireworks show.

if he met me now i'd only be a "best friend" contender?  what more could he possibly be looking for? or maybe it's that he is looking for less ... someone who expects less from him, someone who is less to live up to, someone who is less successful, someone who will settle for less emotional support.  someone who is lesser than me.  someone who will be less work.

i'm fucking work now??

how do you cope when the person you love grows into someone else?  we used to make fun of the expat guys in the foreign countries ... the ones who went out to the club and picked up an "exotic local girl" who didn't speak english and god forbid they had learned her language.  no need to impress, no need for being clever, no need to put the effort in ... no need for any work.

and in china no less, where porcelain doll types will "accidentally" drop something at his feet and then bend over to retrieve it and all he needs to do is stand there.  (actual real-life example)

pathetic.

is that who he has become?  how is that possible?  how could my beloved bolshevik have turned into that type of vapid asshole?

what happened to the freaky freezy principle?