Diary of the "Other" Woman

...and no, I am NOT the "other" woman!

Due to my chosen career, I am exposed to human frailties and miseries every single day. I'm also lucky enough to be exposed to joy and happiness, but most of the time, people come to me because something is wrong, not because life is dandy.

Nothing hurts my heart more than watching a family being ripped apart by infidelity. That's true in my professional life, as well as my personal life. It's gut-wrenching to see the hurt, tear-streaked, bewildered faces of those on the receiving end of heartbreak.

I'm not (and have never been) the "other" woman, but I've often wondered what such a woman's diary might look like. I wonder if it would look something like this...

Oh yeah. Here's a disclaimer. The following journal entry is entirely fictional and the product of this writer's imagination. Any similarity to actual persons or events is entirely coincidental.

Dear Diary,

I'm a bad person. I never thought I would allow something like this to happen. How could I be so stupid? And how many women before me have thought and said the same thing?

If he wasn't so handsome, so nice, so smart, so...everything that I've always wanted in a man, maybe I could have resisted. But I'm weak. I wanted him, had to have him. Never mind the fact that he's been married for seven years and has two kids. What was I thinking? And what was he thinking? Now that the "deed is done", I'm freaking out. Why, when I got exactly what I wanted? Other people know. I don't know how they found out. I'm so humiliated. I thought we were being careful, but apparently, not careful enough. All of our co-workers know.

Even worse, word got back to his wife. Who would go and tell her? And why? And then, as if her knowledge of it wasn't bad enough, she actually had the nerve to call me and tell me to back off and leave her husband alone. I told her to f-off, because her husband was with me because she's such a sorry excuse for a wife and mother, and I obviously treat him better than she does. But as I slammed the phone back into the receiver, there was that little voice in the back of my head, nagging at me.

I only know what he's told me. It never occurred to me until now that there's her side of it, too. What am I supposed to do now? I thought he would come running right over so we could begin our life together, but instead, he called and said he has to smooth things over with her and the kids before he can leave! What does it matter? If he wants to be with me, he'd be here, right?

OMG. That's it, isn't it? He doesn't really want to be with me. What was I thinking? He's married! With a family! Why would I want to be with someone who could do that to the people he supposedly loves? What kind of person does that? And what kind of person am I? I didn't consider the consequences. Maybe his wife is right. Maybe I am selfish and don't have good morals or values. I knew what the situation was, but I pursued it anyway.

Even worse, I have to face him at work tomorrow. I don't know what to expect. Am I supposed to be there for him? Try to comfort him? Let him know I'll support him, no matter what? Maybe he'll look at me and be full of scorn for enticing him to be with me. And what will everyone at work say?

I wish I had thought of all this last year when I got friendly with him. But now what? Even if it works out between us, now I'm stuck knowing that if he did it once, he can do it again. Lucky me.


Well lady, looks like you created a mess. Hate to see what Karma has in store for you.

Corn Dogs in the Morning...

...is why I shouldn't answer my phone

This morning was one of the mornings that I had a carload of children to drop off at school. So, five kids lighter, but still one huffish* four-year-old burdened, I was looking forward to a few minutes of hiding in a closet or somewhere equally peaceful when I made it home. I barely had my jacket off when the phone rang. Who calls at 8am? People in distress-- right? There are, literally, only a handful of people I answer the phone for anyway; this was not a caller on my ultra-exclusive list. Because of the time, I answered.

Can you believe that no one is dead? Hospitalized? In a coma (other than me)? I answered the phone and sacrificed an hour of my life for, essentially, tosh**. I had to make corn dogs for His Majesty, The Sausage King, Grand Duke of French Toast, Puppy Prince in a Previous Life, because he was hungry (an hour after breakfast) and I was doing my best to listen to my caller. I made corn dogs at eight-thirty in the morning. While "talking" on the phone.

And this is mom's fault. I know you already know why, but here it is: 1) She raised us to be too nice, 2) Her relatives are talkers, and 3) We became power multi-taskers under her care.

Sisters, I feel like you owe me for this one since I answered the phone to spare you.

My Wednesday Words:
*huffish (adj.):sulky
**tosh (n.):BOSH;TWADDLE; sheer nonsense

Personal Power Statement

I am still in control here!

I will not settle for less than I deserve, because if I do, I will ultimately end up with less than I settled for.

I am the bigger person.

I am the better person.

It's up to me to decide what I will do.

I have only felt powerless because I have allowed myself to feel that way.

I'm making the choice to forgive and move forward.

I will not forget. The marks on my heart and soul are too deep.

I cannot forget, because to forget would be to condone, and I do not condone it. Besides, the pain I feel by remembering cannot be any worse than the pain I would feel by knowing and not remembering.

I will act in a way that I would admire in someone else.

I love myself unconditionally. I really am good enough, smart enough, pretty enough. I am enough.

Just for today, I will let it really be ALL ABOUT ME.

Word Building

cur (n.): mongrel; surly or cowardly fellow

add an "r"
curr (v.): to make a murmuring sound (like doves)

add an "agh" or an "ach"
curragh or currach (n.): a large coracle

Margaret Meets The Voice

He had me at "hello."

As soon as I heard the "hello," I knew it was the voice I had heard five days earlier--the voice that left me slightly terrified to be near my room. There was No Doubt that it was the same voice. It was the same recognition as when you hear your best friend's voice on the phone. But this time, I was not in my room (I was not even at home), and there were other people all around me. I felt silly and a little bit mad as I realized what had happened. I mean, I don't mind the dreams that occur every once and a while where I get a little glimpse or hint of the future, but I mind knowing I was awake the other morning when I heard the voice that had no person attached to it. THAT is Scary. But it was just a premonition. I know, I know. I can feel the disappointment on your end, too.

So the voice is attached to a person, and his Liberace comments made me laugh out loud yesterday. He asked the question. I have no clear idea of the significance of my "hearing" him in advance. I know it will be in the back of my mind, simmering. But there is other work to be done now, so off I go...

He felt like Liberace in one of his costumes.

I hate this puzzle now.

Because it's not mine.

  I kept saying it over again in my head: I hate this puzzle now. Because it's not mine.

It's not mine.

  I don't know what it is about being so close to finishing something that moves us to destroy it, but up until about an hour ago, I was about sixty pieces shy of finishing a 750-piece puzzle.

     

  About an hour ago, that changed. All 750 pieces wound up broken on the floor --and I think I did, too. You know how sometimes you can cry so hard that you stop breathing? Every camel has a straw that breaks its back...

  I picked up all the pieces though, and it's amazing, isn't it? How the more disastrous what we've done, the faster we can convince ourselves that we're okay with it? It's done now, was my new repetitious thought. Nothing I can do now. And I picked up what I hope is every last piece, and put them in two plastic containers that I might otherwise use to store leftover pasta in the refrigerator. I wrapped the picture of the puzzle from the top of the box --which I had been using as a guide --I wrapped it up in tin foil and I put it all away. Hid it all away. I can't look at it. I don't even want to see it. Don't even want to think of it. If I could have dug a hole in the dirt with my bare hands and put it in there, I would have. Lord, I would have.

Pusillanimous

Lacking courage and resolution

My experience the other night has left me pusillanimous. I don't know when I'll be able to sleep in that room again...

Worse Than A Dream

Is Knowing That You Are Awake

The voice woke me up. How do I know I was awake? I thought it was the alarm (set to turn on the radio), so I opened my eyes and looked at the clock. It was not the alarm. I looked hard at the time, imprinted the numbers in my mind--two more hours of sleep to be had was what I calculated in that split second--then I closed my eyes. And the voice asked me the same question again.

Fear is not cold.

The seconds it took to scream seemed like an hour. Who knew it would take so long? Just to scream?

So, of course, now it knows the answer to the question.

Now what am I going to do?

Wanted: Squeaky Clean Soul

To my fellow Crazy Sisters (and anyone else reading this who might have some insight):

This is not a joke. I swear it's not. It's horribly ironic, considering my recent post on apologies and Karma, but I have a question. Do you think once a person pays their Karmic debt, it's over and done with? Or is it like too many laxatives, and it keeps paying you back, running and running, and making you miserable, even after you have been sufficiently punished? I just realized that I did something six years ago--unknowingly, I swear; no malice, no forethought, nothing--and Karma/Fate has paid me back tenfold. Do you think it's over now? Does it count toward good Karma if I have finally become enlightened and realized that it's bad Karma biting me in the butt? Will bad Karma now leave me alone, because I have repented? What if it's all those mirrors I broke as a kid? What if it's not Karma and it's just all bad luck? No, I can't say that, or bad Karma might come back after me! I need to know I'm going into surgery next month with a clean Karmic slate. Should I go to confession? Or is it enough that I've confessed my wrong-doing and accepted my cosmic punishment? And does it count that I am really, really sorry? Not sorry because I'm being punished, but sorry because of my unwitting role in something bad that happened six years ago. Unwittingly or not, it still happened. Yikes! Help!

Advice for the ridiculous?

Sisters, when you’ve done something that you shouldn’t have done (nothing illegal or even I suppose really, really bad, but something like you maybe didn’t give someone all the attention that they deserved), how do you fix it?

All I can say is that I’ve made my attempt tonight, and now I’m waiting….

I guess that’s all I can do, right?

Idiot War

Same rules as whore wars?

I want some good synonyms for the word "idiot." GOOD ONES.

galoot (n.): a strange or foolish fellow

I want something to say instead of "jackass" (especially while driving), but mom's "nincompoop" compromise that she used when we were young doesn't work for me.

How do you feel about "muttonhead?"

Perspective

The Christmas House

There is a house not very far from my own that still has its Christmas decorations up, and every night, the lights are turned on. I don't pass the house every night, but I do drive past it every so often. January, I didn't even pay attention to it. In February, it seem quaint--all those colored lights and the big tree in the window. February is still such a dark month. In March, my eyebrows drew together, but I just figured the first hints of Spring would nudge the family to finally put their decorations away.

I drove past the house last night, just at dusk (which is getting later and later!). The Christmas lights were on. Then, as if a ton of gravelled rocks piled into my chest, I realized what was going on.

That house is waiting for someone--someone who was expected at Christmas. Someone who hasn't come home yet.

Someone out there is loved so much. Have a safe journey home.