“Your Baby Doesn’t Want You Anymore.”

It’s over.
It breaks your heart in two.

It’s Over by Roy Orbison

Things have been incredibly difficult for the last two weeks. TH and I have been having difficulties of varying natures for a while now – some say he is at fault and some say that I am – but I always kind of assumed we’d plod on. I thought of our relationship in terms of the turtle who eventually wins the race. It would just continue to take its sweet as time until one day, we both realized that we had lived the rest of our lives together. That’s probably pretty pathetic. Point of fact, it sounds a little like romantic drivel, in a way. I’m not one for romantic flights of fancy anymore. I’ve grown up and grown past that, but I did just kind of always assume that we’d just always be together.

Imagine my surprise when he says that he’s going to move out. “I think we need a time out,” he says to me.

I wasn’t overly surprised by it. As I said, things have been pretty cagey between us for a while. But, I honestly never thought he’d have the gumption to say that to me. I always thought that if, push came to shove, and anyone was actually debating about leaving it would be me. But I have to admit here that I’m a complete idiot about things, too. I’m that asshole who will always forgive, will always forget, and will always take care of the basics. I will be the one to slave and make sure the bills are paid. I will be the one who takes care of the house. And I will be the one to constantly allow more and more irritations to build up until I finally explode.

It really is surprising that he actually took his balls in his hands and finally made a decision.

It looks like I’m a single parent now.

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The Interesting World of Insurance Claims.

After feeling like the largest failure for having been on unemployment long enough to actually stop receiving it, I got a phone call from the temp agency that I’ve been “employed with” for the last few months. Every time they would call me, I would be unable to do what they requested. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to because, you know, bringing in an income is really fantastic. However, they always seemed to forget that I’m a single parent and that I can’t just drop everything to run to work. I have to make provision for my son and set up things like that. And I know how competitive it is to be working for a temp agency, so I had no illusions about them “holding a spot open” while I settled my son into an unfamiliar new environment. Since TH is now out of work, I can drop everything now.

The job is… well, it’s very taxing.

I work at a claims outsourcing group call center. In effect, if you have an accident or something happens to your home, then you call me and I end up boring you with a hundred questions about where you live, your number, and the incident in question. Then, I give you a temporary claim number until a real adjuster can call you back and make everything wonderful again. The reason I’m working for is because of Hurricane Sandy. So, while I would normally just be sitting around all day and listening to people talk about car accidents or bitching about their neighbors’ children throwing a rock through their window, I now get to hear every possible scenario of horror story out of Staten Island, Long Island, the Jersey Shore, and various other hard hit areas. Most of our calls are out of New Jersey and New York.

Everyone else in the country gets to watch the news and read the newspapers to click their tongues at and feel absolute sympathy for these people. I get to do it while speaking with these people. To say that I come home completely drained is an understatement. There is no diminishing of my well of empathy or sympathy for these people and that’s why. As a friend of mine said a while back, some people are cut out for this kind of job and some people aren’t. And I am woefully not. I’m sure, over time, I’d begin to develop a clinical type of detachment to the stories. But, in reality, I just don’t see myself as that kind of person. I spent a lot of my childhood filled with clinical detachment. For whatever reason, I finally actually have some kind of sympathy for others – I’d like to keep it.

I Don’t Know How I Feel.

Not knowing how you feel isn’t really a rarity. As teenagers, we’re taught that our emotional development is out-of-whack in direct relation to our hormones. We go through our adolescence assuming that, one day, we’ll know exactly how we feel, though possibly not why. However, as we get older, the emotions don’t necessarily work themselves out. In fact, I have long periods of having feelings and not knowing exactly what they are and mostly, never really knowing why in the first place. Emotions and all that’s related is pretty fucking complicated – there’s no manual, unfortunately. I’ll tell you, however, that a manual could come in handy right about now.

This morning, I was sent an E-mail from my uncle with the title “passing.” In it was an obituary for my biological, paternal grandmother. Unh. Shit.

As anyone who knows me or who has read this blog knows, the family member that I’m talking about, I do not know them. For those who are unaware: My biological father was not around when I was born at my mother’s behest. He had a chance to make his presence known in my life when Daddy adopted me after he married my mother. A notice is sent to the biological father (or that’s how it was done in the 80s), alerting them that someone wants to step into their shoes. The biological father has the option of showing up to the hearing and contesting the adoption. My biological father never showed up. I’ve always felt that this was a telltale euphemism for any relationship I may have ever wanted with the man.

Don’t get me wrong, as a teen, I wanted a relationship. I was lost and alone and feeling awful inside all the time. For some stupid reason, I thought forging a relationship with a man who didn’t want me was a good idea. I never actually did anything. I had the house number and called a few times. When I got the answering machine every time, I figured it was a sign that I shouldn’t fuck up someone else’s life. It also didn’t feel right, really. My daddy was dead and had been, at that point, for seven years or more. The man I was thinking about would never fill the shoes my daddy was supposed to be filling. And as interested as I am in knowing things like the genetic and cultural heritage of my biological father’s family and as much as I really kind of need to know what sort of genetic diseases I may have passed onto my kid, I’ve left it alone.

Mostly.

When I was living in Texas, my uncle (the same who sent me the E-mail this morning) sent a letter with a newspaper clipping in it. The person features was my previously unknown half-sister. I was shocked and startled. What got me, too, was that the two of us look a lot alike. I’ve always been under the impression from the few photos I’ve seen of my biological father (from the 70s) that I actually look very much like my mother with little hints that a guy helped to make me. Seriously. However, after seeing her picture, I saw a lot of myself in her. The picture in the article reminded me of a class picture I took in the 7th grade. (Mom? Remember that one? You were so mad at me for wearing that green sweatshirt.) After finding out about her, I sent her a letter with information about who I was, where I was living, a little about myself, and ways to contact me if she felt so inclined.

She did, actually, contact me.

I have a sneaking suspicion she never told her parents, though.

So, there I am, reading this article and reading about the family. I got to learn what the full names of my biological paternal aunts are and their kids. Apparently, I have a second cousins now from that side of the family, too. It’s a very interesting article, giving me the basics of what my paternal biological grandmother did and what she left behind. I just spent a little time with my mother, asking her what this woman was like. She’s a complete enigma to me. Sure, technically, she’s a bit of my genetic heritage, but I don’t know anything. All I have from that side of the family are three 70s photos of my biological father at a family picnic at my maternal grandparents’ house and some family heirlooms (wooden birds, a couple of dishes, and some hurricane lamps). That’s the gist of what I know, aside from the pieces I’ve gotten from my mom since my half-sister is curiously incapable of telling me anything I want to know… like what kind of genetic diseases may run in our blood. (I don’t get it.) It’s not much.

It all comes down to, though, not knowing how to feel about this. A person I never knew and would have never known about if my daddy had his way (and you know, didn’t die) has died. She’s technically an ancestor of mine. Do I honor her? Do I muscle in on the funeral they have? Do I try to find out any details from the half-sister who doesn’t seem willing to discuss this with me? Do I do anything? Should I care? Should I have any feelings whatsoever?

I don’t fucking know.

Life is way too complicated and emotions? Doubly so.

Creeptastic.

I’m feeling rather unnerved at the moment.

Tonight, I spent the evening with TH over at his mother’s house. His mother owns a second house at the Cape and every June/July, they block it off from renters so that the entire family can spend July 4th down there. TH and I have never gone, not really being beach people but we send TS down with the rest of the family. It gives us a much need rest and relax, as well as time enough to act like idiots for a bit. (It gets it out of our systems, I guess.) So, TH has been spending his time predominantly at his mother’s house and with TS gone, I was pretty excited at the prospect of the house to myself. I could walk around naked (not that I would) and I could dance (which I might) without worrying about being stared at. I can pray, too, without having to explain to either TH and TS about what the fuck I’m doing. So, there’s an awesomely awesome reason, too, but right now… Yeah.

Earlier, after doing a blog entry that took more out of me than I had thought, I went outside for a break. It was that quasi-moment between dusk and full-blown dark. I love TH’s mother’s property for the wildness and yet cultivated feel of it. It’s a whimsical both. I was standing out front when I felt like I was being watched from the “road” that lines the property. (The city was initially going to pave a road down to the lake that TH’s parents’ house is on but never did anything with it besides put a sewer entry down in the back.) I turned but didn’t see anything since the trees were blocking out whatever light may have gotten in there. I chalked it off to feeling overwrought from what the hell I had worked on and left it at that. When I went out later, I felt even weirder. At one point, I FELT like someone was running out of the woods that line the property towards me for nefarious purposes, but when I turned to look… there was no one there.

I shook my head and just decided to ignore it. Nothing’s going on, right?

So, I packed up my stuff and told TH I was heading back to the house. I knew the dogs were probably freaking out and barking at every little thing, that they needed to go out, and wanted to know somebody was home with them. I’ve been pretty much out the door since I got up this morning. I had to get TS ready for the trip to the Cape, meet up with family members to drive him down, and take BFMA out for errands. After all of that, I spent the rest of my time over with TH. So, I started home. The ride was quiet and quick. Honestly? I don’t remember much of it. I felt like I was there and doing the stuff that I should be doing, but I also felt like I wasn’t there either. I had to keep checking my speedometer to make sure I really was going the speed limit – I felt like I was going a lot faster than 40 down the road. When I got home, I was creeped out already, but you know, it was doubled when I didn’t hear the dogs barking when I pulled in.

My car is, uh, not in good shape right now. It makes all manner of noise and is very distinctive. The dogs have associated the sounds with the family coming home. And they bark because they’re excited. I always yell on my way inside, “Jasmine, Sweet Pea! Shut up! We’re home already!” But tonight, there was nothing. Of course, it was late. Maybe they were sleeping, but my dogs are clockwork beings. They do the same shit all the time usually in regards to the same actions. They bark every time we come home and I’m used to it. So, I rushed into the house. I had all manner of horrible thoughts in my head. Sweet Pea was dead because of Jasmine. Someone had broken in and killed my dogs. Sweet Pea somehow managed to get herself into the bathtub and hurt herself this time. (She’s a tiny dog with issues in her back legs because of arthritis but she can still hop into a bin of dog food or, oddly enough, the bath tub.) So, I rushed into the house…

…and both dogs were there to greet me.

I noticed the mess they left me on the floor. I was not smart, apparently, and had left the door open to the bathroom and they had gotten into the trash. I tried to remember if I had closed the bathroom door, but all I could remember was that I was in a rush to get over to TH so I could hop in the poolwe could spend quality time together. I went around the house and looked because it all just felt so weird, so wrong.

I didn’t see anything missing. The lock on the front door is still in place. Both of the bedroom doors were still closed, as I had left them from this mornings first adventures. But I found sand particles on the sink in the bathroom, a ring of water on the counter in the kitchen, some sand particles on the console table the TV is on, and a deck of my Oracle cards has been moved. I feel like someone was in my house, but the doors were locked. The only person who could get into my house is my landlord. The grass has been mowed, so maybe he came by to do that and stopped into my house? But wouldn’t he have to notify me? And I don’t know but it doesn’t feel… like someone I know was in my house. But it definitely feels like someone was here…

Now, I get to spend the rest of the night here, by myself. I hope I end up sleeping tonight.