My Diploma vs. My Wallet

A while back, 20/20 aired a story discussing the mis-perception that people must go to college to get a good job with good pay. Since I have had the same thoughts, I was interested to hear the report. After all, this is a package that I paid (and am still paying) for.

Within my first year out of graduate school, I began to wonder if there would ever be a financial payoff for my higher education. My intent was to complete a PhD in social services -- if I could ever pay off what student loan debt I had already accumulated. However, I was barely able to pay rent on a one-bedroom apartment. Not long after, I learned that my nephews were making more than I by migrating straight from high school to jobs in a local factory.

I tried to rationalize that sitting in a nice office doing good for humanity was the better way to go but it was a year later that the bottom line fell and I started night classes at a local technical college. A year later, I had doubled my salary by taking a job in information technology.

Each month I grimace when the student bill is due. Recently, when I realized that though I have been paying on my student loan for ten years and still have another ten to go, I pondered defaulting on the loan.

The report went on to state that "the bachelor's degree is America's most overrated product" and that colleges purposely mislead students to believe that the only way to a higher salary is a higher education. Looking back at some of the millions of dollars my alma-mater has made in faculty housing and campus amenities (such as a gigantic water fountain which blocks access to the library), I can't help but compare it to a smaller-scale version of Citigroup intending to purchase a $50 million dollar jet with taxpayer funds. Thus, I concur, college degrees are mis-represented and we probably have another case of taxpayer-money-mismanagement.

That being said, if I had to make the decision again, then I would still have gotten my bachelor's degree. Graduate school in social services is another matter entirely, but my undergraduate degree was worth every penny - even in interest. Aquiring a wide range of knowledge broadened my small-town education exponentially. The social lessons alone, were priceless and the "book-learning" not far behind.

When I first started to work in a large corporation, I was completely amazed that senior management could not write a proper and effective e-mail because their writing skills were so poor. I can't say much good about their verbal communication skills either. I remember getting secret bonuses just to WRITE stuff that was outside my job description. But regardless, as mentioned in the episode, perhaps it is not so much the college diploma as much as it is the person that determines any student's success.

Either way, I 100% believe that what quality of life I manage to have now would be gone if I had not went to college. In fact, considering all the issues I have to deal with now, life itself probably would have ended for me by now.

In any event, purchase only as much as you need and the old adage "buyer-beware" still applies.

Somewhere around 9am I awoke lying in a fog again at the bottom of blackness. Momentarily disoriented, I had to look back up to see what had happened. There he sat at my desk, in disgust, dismantling my code as if it were a virus. "It's taken you 40 hours to do a 3-hour job, no - since it is you - a 6-hour job ... and it's STILL not done."

That was the point where slippage merged into this fall. I will not argue that it has indeed been a failure on my part. Mud and fog have blocked every neural path in my brain so that there is no way I can chug out even one decent block of code.

After physically removing myself from the facility, my eyes gutted themselves for about five hours straight as I worked to sort out this latest meltdown.

Looking back, the tension at work had been building for over a week and was inevitable but I did not see it. The blindness had overtaken me again to the point where I could not recall the last time I'd eaten or slept a whole night. Except for a half-quart of expired milk, a tablespoon of butter, and something resembling potatoes, there is nothing in the fridge and the cats have one can of food left as well. I can't imagine how I am going to drag myself out to not only buy but eat something.

Forty-three days after the divorce and I've got tanks shooting from places I did not know existed. This divorce I can deal with but these things are ruthless.

Keep What You Steal

Throughout the separation and divorce I banged my head against the wall in frustration wondering how could it be that two people who truly cared for each other so much could NOT work out their marriage. Today I found the answer and like many other twisted deceptions, it was glaring in plain sight all along.

It was the very sentence I uttered that held the truth -- "... TWO people who TRULY CARED for each other ..." He did not hate me but he instead felt nothing and I think that may be where I got lost and have been stumbling around for the past years. How would I have known anything else.

I think it had began to sink in a couple of months ago but just hit me today. Anyway, the worse part is that this is probably the sum of the majority of our marriage of 11 years, 4 months, and 28 days.

I should have known that if anyone were to steal my heart then of course it would be thrown it away. Thieves have no honor.

The Weight of Subconscious Expectations

It was the last day of 2008 when I learned that the papers had been signed, notarized, and the divorce complete. I did not feel sad or happy -- free or burdened -- angry or peaceful. I felt nothing but the same.

My marital status is divorced but my heart remains unchanged. I still easily refer to him as 'my husband' and do not know what to refer to the man who has played such an influential role in my heart. I can't bear the term 'EX-husband.' I think this will pass with time but other things I am not so sure.

On Fridays, I come home from work and suddenly am sad when I realize that he has not phoned and we have no plans for the evening. I was never aware that I had hoped or expected to have contact with him. Even more odd, the same thing also happens on Saturdays and Sundays. I go about my days then suddenly I am hit with a sadness when I realize that he is gone. This at least happens once during the work week as well.

It is not as if I am not trying to move on; likewise, it is not as if I do not ever phone him because I do.

The only idea I can surmise is that this must have been a pattern dating back for years. Though the dance looks different the steps are the same.

The worst blows are those that seem to come from nowhere. I don't know what happened so just take your pick.

I'm distraught by bedtime panic and the sick dread of nightmares. I thought that they had moved on.

I am so afraid to fall asleep that I may have to find a hidey to curl into. Elm Street has nothing on whatever bastard is lurking around in my subconscious - ready to attack.

I'm suspecting that this is related to today's frequent visits to bathroom stall #1 to secretly unleash tears that come from a hidden primal closet somewhere in the back of my walls.

In any event, I made an appointment with the professional tomorrow so I will miss work and catch the wrath for that but I figure it is better than the gastric lavage I seem to be headed for.

The ache of it throbs from each shoulder up through my tight and knotted neck leaving my jaw stiff and my eyes about to explode from the pressure.

Cruel that we escape only to return. Has my head not endured enough? The girl lying next to me just stares. She's been through worse - they all have and frequently remind me of it because I still don't seem to get it.

I don't think the cats see them. No one does because they all want me to die. They throw reflective listening crap in my face as if they were any good at it to begin with. Their resignation to my self-destruction has deeply set in but I have nowhere else to turn so there is nothing I can do.

Dirty Tiles

I am on the bathroom floor staring at pill bottles. The apartment has been trashed and I have no memory of it. I am in allot of pain. My neck & jaw & back hurt so much that I want to die. This is the worst time of the year for fibro but I don't know that is why I am having pain. I've done the worksheets. I've come up with my own assignments but these are no good. Nothing works.

After I first escaped from the parents and started to recover I had a reoccurring feeling regarding the torture from the mother -- how embarrassing and painful to matter so little as a human being that I could be discarded in such a manner. How could I have NOT blamed myself.

No matter what therapy I do, I just repeat it. disregarded, trashed, etc.

No one has ever wanted me around for very long unless they need something. My ex-husband is glad I am gone and is better off. I am glad he is doing well but I shamefully admit that I would like to be worth enough to be missed by him; though, that is why I left, correct? I have learned to want myself around. This took a long time but I had hoped this would be enough but I screw so many things up. My life and my environment are in such disarray that I wonder if perhaps I should have been locked away.

Sunday-Before-Work-Monday-Anxiety

I have the Sunday-Before-Work-Monday anxieties.

First, there was the loss of health insurance which resulted in the "high-deductible health plan" (HDHP) which caused me to for-go multiple health treatments.

Second, the office had to be relocated an extra hour away so that my daily commute has been AT LEAST two hours a day.

Third, we were informed that due to the drastic budget-cuts of ALL our corporate customers, matching 401K has ceased to exist, we have all had to take a significant pay cut, AND we now have to pay all premiums that go along with our HDHP. Now I cannot afford the physical therapy prescribed for a pinched nerve in my neck and am trying to make due with online exercise tips and generic Massage Envy.

Currently, we are continually getting emails to let us know that a cut in staffing is coming soon. Ironically enough, I had been getting 3-4 phone calls a week from recruiters offering me interviews; that is, until our local market became saturated with unemployed IT workers laid off from multiple businesses - the latest being our no-longer-really-local brewery.

So ... I'll be spending all my spare time this week updating my web site, resume, and studying for that one last exam that will upgrade my certification.

“This country was the moral leader of the world until George Bush became president.” -- Howard Dean.

Folie à Quatre

So they found out about the divorce. I do not know who ratted me out but I can only assume that it was Sister #1. She would have told Sister #2 so that, of course, anyone in a 100-mile radius would now know.

Apparently they have been calling for some time but my husband had been shielding the calls so that I would not have to stress over it until after the holiday. I am very grateful to him for this.

They continue to send snail mail as well. My guess is that Sister #1 did not relay the address I told her to give them -- the 7th cardboard box by the south entrance to the arch ... the only one with the Cosco shopping cart, etc.

Per the latest phone message, my father stated that he would be driving up soon (perhaps this weekend) to 'take care' of this divorce situation. I do not know what that means and probably do not want to know but I am completely in awe of their delusional thinking.

I haven't seen or spoken to them in so many years. I was informed that they also offered to come up and help my husband with any household chores or repairs. He's a grown man and it's a 3-hour drive. Seriously? There is no making sense of this so do not try.

Years ago, I learned that it is wasteful to make sense of someone that is so illogical. My mother is delusional to a psychotic degree and everyone else seems to fall closely behind. They do meet all the diagnostic criteria for 297.3, or rather, Folie à quatre.

In any event, I am thinking that the time has come to tear out the face of my entire family's reality by speaking out of that which has never been spoken of. It is only a matter of when. I will let you know if I do.

My Top 10 Reasons To Stay Home At Christmas

According to MSNBC, "more and more people seem to be on their own these days. Census figures show that one-fourth of the nation’s households — 27.2 million of them — now consist of one person, compared to just 10 percent in 1950. For that matter, the average American has only two close friends in whom to confide — down from three in 1985, according to an authoritative sociological study released in June. Nearly a quarter have no confidant at all."

To help me get along at during this time alone, I made a list of the top ten reasons why it is better to be home alone at Christmas:

10. Aunt Franny's liver and cranberry stuffing.

9. No fist fights to break up in the yard.

8. No more debates as to who was responsible for the burned Christmas ham back in 1985.

7. Not forced to sit at small card table with five-year-olds who flick corn in your face.

6. No having to be nice to mean people whom you only see once a year.

5. No horrid gossip -- Do not have to hear who is fornicating with who during the lunch hour at work.

4. One less viewing of that damn blonde-kid-movie and his bb-gun.

3. Less presents to re-gift.

2. Avoidance of in-laws! Avoidance of in-laws! Avoidance of in-laws!

1. Can sit in front of XBox in flannel pajamas, eat pie, and gain ranking points by shooting down all the newbs who just now received a copy of Halo 3.

Attempt At Positive Sappiness #1

'Twas the night before Christmas in apartment #1
when lights went out and all were done
with I in my bed, electric blanket on high
the kitties curled up -- we let out a sigh

Though it had been a rough year
- few triumphs but many trials -
it was enough for my defenses
that I hide in my denial


When up from my bed I arose in a shiver
I thought I would cry and my lip began to quiver
Were there to be no presents, no tree, no shine?
Did I forget it all? I began to whine.

My first holiday so alone
no family but no mire
I tried to convince myself
that my state was not so dire


Since I had a job, a car, and a bed
the heat was on and I was fed
I pleaded myself to cheer up and be glad
tho' reason for gloom, no need to be sad

Thanks to amazon.com I ordered my gifts
They were not wrapped but that should not matter
It was good to have them and should give me a lift
Stay together, be strong, and my heart would not shatter

So back into bed, I nestled warm and safe
Telling myself - "I'm no longer a waif!"
Next year would be better - no Bush, more shoes -
It has to get better and I refuse to lose.

Waiting For Leftovers

As is typical, the sum of this update is that I remain in waiting on HIM to do something other than work or sports. It is one piece of paper to sign but he can't manage that. One sheet of paper so that this marriage can be done. I could actually begin to try and pick up my pieces but he will hold it off as long as possible for his own sake while I wait out another winter in this cold and drafty apartment where nothing works right.

I phone but he does not return calls. I email but he ignores those as well. Over Thanksgiving, he phoned late night and asked if I wanted leftovers. Can you believe that? It seems innocent enough ... but leftovers? Seriously? It is like a nasty joke from fate or whatever being controls irony. All I have gotten from him in forever has been leftovers.

Now in this economy when I can actually AFFORD a house, I have to wait on him again. He has three months to re-finance and six months to sell our house so that I can get my name off the mortgage but there is no reason for me to ever expect that I won't hear of this matter again until 5.75 months from whenever he graces me with his signature. He refuses to even take the time to give me my past year's tax forms or the title to the car as was agreed.

Leftovers. We've done a good job at not hating and fighting each other during this divorce but now I think I've just been stupid. I've become one of those women: smart at everything but alleged love. I left him in our comfortable house so that he would not be so "devastated." Those were his exact words - that he would be DEVASTATED. Stupid. He now says he has "made peace" with our divorce and "has moved on" and guess how I am? Devastated. Stuck and devastated and unable to move on with my life. Unable to make peace because I am waiting on him.

Save Our Canyons

Help Stop the Giveaway of America’s Redrock Wilderness to the Oil and Gas Industry!

No one voted on Election Day to hand over Utah's Redrock wilderness to oil companies. But the Bush Administration cynically chose that very day to advance an outrageous plan that will sell off leases for some 160,000 acres of spectacular Utah canyonlands to oil and gas speculators. While America was voting for Barack Obama and his vision of a clean energy future, Bush and Cheney's underlings were conspiring to plunder one of the crown jewels of our natural heritage for their fossil fuel cronies. Please register your own opposition right now. The auction of Redrock country will take place on December 19.

Update From The Trenches

I didn't know if or when I would return. All that I knew were the directions as they were pointed out by my inner and outer guides. No matter what the conclusion - dead or alive - I committed to finish this fight even it meant travelling to the depths of hell. Thus far, hell is indeed where my journey has been destined. I cannot say that I have not been here before -- only that my previous visits were even less of my choosing.

The blackness has left me so desperate that the only thing that seems an option is to continue to fight. As much as I have tried, it seems the preference to crawl into my hole and stay is a choice that is not mine to make. I am driven by a force that is beyond my comprehension and existence. It does not matter if I die. The only thing that matters is that I do not fail.

It is beyond me as to why I have been pushed and prodded so. It is beyond me as to why my sisters did not get pushed away from that hellhole -- or even my own parents for that matter. I wish to God they had or still would (as I believed it was always possible) but we all supposedly have the right to self-determination. This is just a right that most people do not seem to even know they have, much less select it. Many conclude that I am extremely bizarre or not sane but I stopped listening to them some time ago.

I'm still here. My tag is A54 and I choose to finish this fight.

Update From The Front Lines

Hello,

Yes, I am still here fighting in every way possible directly on the front lines but I will answer your questions:

1. First, am I in a locked psychiatric facility fighting four-point restraints? No ... not yet anyway.

2. Secondly, what am I doing? Well, this is what I do: I go to work most days then most evenings I attend a custom-prescribed therapeutic regimen to constructively deal with my specific traumas. I work at this program so that by the time I get home at night I am exhausted. I am committed to seeing this through or dying - whichever comes first.

The only thing else I do is play Halo (which I am lousy at), pay some of my bills, clean litter boxes, buy cat food to fill said litter boxes, and eat cake. Yes, cake. White cake with white icing from the bakery. I've eaten two cakes in as many weeks alone. No, I have not gained a pound. ... I think because I eat little else.

I do not clean house, my grooming and other ADL's are poor, I have not been to the Zendo ... or anywhere really ... many of my bills are unpaid, and I am doing poorly at work. This is OK because none of these things matter to me at this time.

For example, last week I was informed that I have no motorcycle insurance but this is OK because I haven't been riding my motorcycle. I have also learned that I am about to be sued because I have not been paying my medical bills. This is also OK because many of said bills are for services not rendered. I HAVE NOT received any substance abuse treatment and AM NOT receiving B12 injections. I said cake NOT Vodka. I have multiple therapists so I think they would know if such activities have been going on. Blue Heartless Cross & Shield can pay all the f* lawyers and debt collectors all they want for their own stupidity I need not contribute.

3. Third, how is my health? My heart is broken in every manner possible and I do not exercise. The only other activities besides work and the program are Halo and cake ... so my health? ... ehhh, whatever. I know I'm doing what I need -- that much I can say for sure. My therapists tell me that we can use the devastating effects of the required beta-blocker to our advantage by working with the relentless emotional tirade they bring about as opposed to me being numb, in denial, and generally apathetic. It's kind of like "Eat, Pray, Love" without the travel.

4. Lastly, how long is my hiatus? I do not know but as long as it needs to be. I don't feel like blogging and have other writing-type things to do. In fact, I'll probably just go ahead and try to publish all the crap I write so that perhaps I can pay for my non-bills should I decide to do so but I am sure I will blog again regularly at some point.

I do hope you are well and all is peaceful on your front-lines. I do hope the war ends soon so I can stop the obnoxious analogy.

Update From the Front Lines

The War Within is on hiatus for an undetermined amount of time.

My Response

Don’t write to me. I don’t want to hear your sob story of your desire to have your family together once before you die. There is no family here of yours. That you claim to have changed by going to church and reading a bible does not impress me. Your religion is rigid and your hope for salvation is in vain as long as you continue to deny the destruction you have caused. Your pretending sickens me. Even in your skewed religion, there is no forgiveness if you do not confess. I am thankful that you spent so little time at home because her craziness was deadly enough without your endless violence.

You make me sick enough that I vomit. You are a sleazy dirty sociopath and I can only hope that someday I will be rid of your slime. You should be behind bars instead of wandering esteemed through your community with a freedom that I cannot know of and if you ever try to approach me then I will destroy your eggshell world in a heartbeat.

I Don't Know So Stop Asking

Security Guard: "HEY MISS! You can't be there! Come back and step off the gray area!"
Me: "I want to feel the blue light."
Security Guard: "What are you talking about? There are no more trains tonight, you'll have to leave.
Me: ::climbing steps back to street::
Security Guard: "Miss, don't go up there - it is too dangerous. You'll have to call a cab. Let me give you the number."
Me: ::climbing steps back to street::
Security Guard: "Miss, I said don't go up there - it is dangerous."
Me: ::confused ... how to get to cab without going to the street? ::
Me: ::wanders back to platform and sits looking in to the electricity and the void below::
Security Guard: "Are you going to call a cab?"
Me: "There's one more train tonight."
Security Guard: "What is wrong with you? There aren't any more. I'm going to have to phone my supervisor."

Me: ::staring into void::
Me: ::staring into void::
Me: ::staring into void::

Security Guard: ::returns::

Security Guard: "Apparently there is one more train coming through because of the late ballgame downtown ..."

Security Guard: ::ponders::
Me: ::staring into void::
Security Guard: ::ponders::
Me: ::staring into void::
Security Guard: ::ponders::
Me: ::staring into void::

Train: ::horn announces approach::
Me: "Sorry you didn't try for the Olympics but it's not too late for you."
Security Guard: "Thanks, but ... Wait, how did you know that?"
Me: "I heard you."

Security Guard: ::looks bewildered::
Me: ::boards train and leaves disappointed::

Thrown

Divorce after a long marriage is not what I thought. It seemed to be about hate, anger, yelling, fighting, and being cruel to the person whom you had claimed to love more than other ... but it is not like that at all -- that's just what it looks like from the outside ... for most people anyway ... I don't think my husband nor I ever inherited that privilege of voicing hate and anger ... but, like I said, it's not about that.

This failure rips off every scab that you might have mended so that every betrayal or pain that you had thought was gone comes trailing out of the shadows one after another like an angry mob leaving you crippled, shocked, inadequate, unworthy, and primitively raw. Any dream that you had purchased goes under and leaves you completely bankrupt, homeless, and clueless so that all you can hope for is to get to work and back to your latest non-home before more vomit erupts from your now wordless mouth.

It is apparently not fair to ever think that someone will love you enough to fight for you when the reality is that we are all so broken that most of us cannot even fight for ourselves.

August 2nd

• On August 2nd of this year, I had been married for eleven years.
• On August 2nd of this year, my husband signed and notarized paperwork from my lawyer.
• On August 2nd of this year, I cried hysterically for hours throughout the day and spent significant amount of phone-time with a therapist while my husband was able to go about his day.
• On August 2nd of this year, I went to dinner with my husband and we spoke not of the significance of the day. After all, that is the way our marriage has worked. I could have brought it up but he will say that he has nothing to say.
• On August 2nd of this year, I gave my husband a chunk of cash for the specific purpose of buying some 'needed' school supplies but he has changed his mind and I wonder if I've been taken advantage of or I am just not valued or if this is a passive-aggressive way to get back at me. It doesn't matter either way.
• On August 2nd of this year, I received an insane letter from my pedophile father requesting things of me that are ridiculous ... this will have to wait for another post.
• On August 3rd, I felt relief but tucked myself away from contact with others.
• Today, on August 4th, ... more of the same and I speak only when spoken to because I know fetal positions aren't allowed at work or in public. According to him, he would be the one devastated and crushed and I recall that so clearly yet I see it not in him but only myself. I'm wondering if I am a schmuck.