It has always amused me that the more things change, the more they stay the same. I’ve climbed the proverbial corporate ladder for nearly twenty years now and the adventure in hysteria and ultimately, amusement, continues to unfold before me with each new professional adventure. I’ve discovered that there will always be ‘characters’ in each office with their inevitable stereotypes, quirkiness, and overall clueless existence, just sitting there…waiting and needing to be written about. And that, I’m certain, is my calling.
I recently visited Denver for the first time to attend a conference sponsored by my current company. Like most conferences and trade shows, all sorts of personalities attend and put on their best ‘game face’ to meet customers, prospects and network with partners. The networking and nurturing of those partner relationships is what facilitated my attendance at the conference in the first place. You see, I am often the invisible marketing ‘Wiz’ behind the corporate curtain, crafting the brand message, and spoon-feeding the blind B2B masses much like feeding broccoli to a seven year-old. And if the truth be told, I’ve discovered that if you cover anything with enough cheese, someone will ultimately eat it.
The majority of those in attendance were men in their 40s and 50s, sporting their receding hairlines and stuffing their beer-bellied midriffs into the required, company-branded golf shirt. To put it bluntly, these men are starved for female attention. The overwhelming majority are married with either teenage or college-bound children, and operate their personal lives with the same boring, predictable precision they present in the workplace. Unimaginative, robotic clones who somehow believe that the story of how they caught the prize-winning trout in their local fishing competition will bring women hopelessly to their knees. And it never fails that these men are utterly captivated by the bubbly and otherwise vacant blonde whose actual purpose is to flirt mindlessly with these men and somehow help assuage their own personal shortcomings. This conference was no exception to the rule and that blonde….and come on, we all know who she is at every company….was there in all her flighty magnificence.
Ironically, despite my ability to see these women for who they actually are rather than what they pretend to be, I am inherently a nice person and get along with nearly everyone. And at my company, this blonde to which I am referring, I will hereby call The Flight Attendant. Bless her sweet soul, she is dripping in Southern accolades as well as physical beauty, and her syrupy accent is all that’s required to lure men under her spell.
After the conference closes on the last afternoon, a handful of co-workers decide to let off some steam and meet up at a local Denver bar and club for some drinks. I receive a call around 5pm in my hotel room from The Flight Attendant: “Mozzie, are you up for it? Come on and go out with us, girl!” Despite my feet aching worse than an Irish clogger, I reluctantly agree to join them. I arrive at the bar around 9pm and the festivities are well underway. The strobe light is flashing, the hip hop is blasting, and The Flight Attendant is on the dance floor, surrounded by an overwhelming group of male admirers, most still dressed to the nines in their company golf shirt. Bless their hearts.
I make my way to the bar, order a double vodka tonic and scan the room for cohorts and partners in crime. I feel the overwhelming sense of relief when I spot a great buddy of mine who is nursing his third or fourth drink, and wave him over to my direction. We chit chat, share some laughs and begin what turns out to be one of the most hilariously funny nights I’ve experienced in quite some time. Before too long, we’re throwing back shots of Grey Goose and cackling at the quasi-American Bandstand maneuvers we’re witnessing on the dance floor. The Flight Attendant is in her element…shaking her money maker and batting her eyelashes in every direction. By the end of the night, I’m fairly certain she will need not only an interpreter from her advanced state of intoxication, but also an escort to find her way back to her hotel room. Naturally, I help her back safely to the hotel, politely say good night and that I will see her the next morning around 8am.
7am arrives and I can’t pretend that it doesn’t kick my nearly 40 year-old ass. But, I shower, get my act together and head over for the last morning of the conference. It’s 8:30am and there’s no sign of The Flight Attendant. I excuse myself, step outside, and call her mobile number and then her hotel room. No answer. Yikes.
I quickly make my way back to the hotel and begin knocking on her door. I hear groaning on the other side and then the door swings open with the naked Flight Attendant peeking around the corner. She’s hungover. She’s completely overslept and she’s limping. She wails in pain only to look down and discover bruised and bloody toes. “Mozzie, what the hell happened? OMG, my foot kills! I was dancing with some guy last night and he kept stomping on my toes. Help me…I can’t walk!” I do my best to contain the uncontrollable laughter swelling up inside me and tell her to get her act together, clean up and head over to the conference if she wants to keep her job. Tough love…sometimes, we all need it.
Later that afternoon, we all depart for the airport, most of us on separate flights, and I don’t see The Flight Attendant until the following day at the office. She arrives, late as usual, on crutches with apparently two broken toes from her late night Denver escapade. Upon seeing her, I race for the bathroom or anywhere private because I know I am going to lose it. I laugh for at least half an hour at the sheer comic gold that is unfolding before me. Like I’ve said many times before, often real life is funnier and more entertaining than fiction.
Several days pass and The Flight Attendant receives flowers in the office from the Toe Stomper. She is touched and agrees to a dinner date with him. I can’t help but chuckle at the irony of the entire situation. Later, she sends me a text on my mobile: “Mozzie, you won’t believe how nice of a guy he is! After my divorce, I was convinced there were no nice guys left out there for me. I really like him and think he might be the one.”
So there you have it, my friends. A possible answer to the age-old question: How do you mend a broken heart? Answer: Go dancing and have someone break your toes. You might just fall in love.
Nearly three years to the day have passed since I’ve written on this blog. At least once or twice a month, I’ve contemplated rekindling my love affair with it, reshaping my purpose, further defining my goals and dreams, yet something has stood in my way. Something intangible, something oppressive, and ultimately something stifling the creativity that has always been the most defining aspect of who I am. And even though I’ve spent much time attempting to discern what this ‘something’ is, I still haven’t exactly put my finger on it. So, here I am – rediscovering the familiar sense of surreal comfort that these pages once afforded me during one of the most difficult times of my life. It is that comfort, that unbridled creativity, that burning feeling of self-discovery that I find myself seeking again in my life. At nearly 40, there are still so many questions that remain unanswered.
I realize this entry after three years of absence is abrupt, vague and yet to be defined, but I’m okay with that. I know that like before, the journey I began within these pages took me places that I never dreamed existed within my own personality and understanding. It is that type of journey into self-discovery that has brought me here again. I am certain of that.
What is completely astounding to me is that this blog continues to receive substantial traffic to this day without a letter being added to its pages since the Fall of 2009. Why that is I cannot begin to fully comprehend, but it does evoke certain humility and gratitude on my part to those invisible souls who visit here, either by purposeful intent or simply chance, perhaps seeking to find answers or understanding for the challenges they face in their lives and personal relationships.
So readers, here I am….your ever-shining Mozzie Starlet. And as Morrissey says, “I just want to say I haven’t been away. I’m still right here, where I always was.”
Twinkle Twinkle,
Mozziestarlet
“All men should strive to learn before they die what they are running from, and to, and why.” ~ James Thurber
As much as I’d love to be able to take credit for that statement, I hardly can. Henrik Ibsen, a remarkable 19th century Norwegian poet and playwright, penned that statement even before the turn of the 20th century. I can remember first reading that when I was about fifteen years-old, and feeling the complete brilliance and truth of it sitting squarely on my shoulders. You see…for a writer, there couldn’t possibly be any statement more at the heart of the matter. Not to sound exclusive, but it’s a difficult thing to explain to someone outside of this reality; to someone who hasn’t spent the majority of their life trying to make sense of their existence year after year, through each stroke of their pen. The funny thing about being a writer is that it’s very much a feast or famine talent. You may go through periods in your life where the words seem to leap from you faster than you are able to write or type them. And other times, you lull through months or even longer where you simply cannot find the words, no matter how desperately you need to.
Certainly, I cannot speak for every writer on this planet. But, in my thirty-six years on this earth, this is exactly how it has been and continues to be for me. I’ve often found myself wondering why this is…why are there times and periods in my life where I cannot stop writing and others when the pen sits frozen in my hand? Is it a type of possession that temporarily takes hold of you until you’ve said all you feel you can say on the subject? Or, is it a God-given gift that like any type of talent should be nurtured and fertilized each and every day in order for it to continue to grow and flourish?
I really couldn’t say one way or the other, and I hardly have a definitive answer on the subject. However, there is one thing that I know for certain; one thing that I hold dear and true. Henrik Ibsen was right. “To write is to sit in judgment on oneself.” And perhaps, it is this self-scrutiny, and this personal dissection, that makes our writing ebb and flow. At times, this self-reflection is a necessary evil for our own understanding and personal growth. And at other times, the cruelty of sitting beneath a microscope of self-analysis is simply more than a person can withstand.
I don’t think the admission of this duality makes me less of a writer, really. I think it’s what makes me a human being.
“If I’m trying to sleep, the ideas won’t stop. If I’m trying to write, there appears a barren nothingness.”
~ Carrie Latet
“Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself.”
~ Franz Kafka
“You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.”
~ Ray Bradbury
Okay, okay. So, I’m not immune to peer pressure either. Given that it’s been nearly a month since my last entry and many of you have written inquiring as to my status as ‘alive or dead,’ I figured it is only the polite thing to do to post an updated entry. Truth be known, I haven’t felt terribly inspired or creative in the past few weeks, and keeping my head above water has been my prime directive. Yes, I am still looking for a job with little success, but, as you all know from reading my words, I always believe in holding on to hope. I’ve found that as grim as things may appear in your situation, things are always worse for others. Though I take no comfort in the suffering of others, this notion often keeps my toes warm at night.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the ideal of ‘happiness’ and all that it entails. And yes, I refer to it as an ‘ideal’ because I honestly think this description encapsulates the esoteric nature of it. In my life, I’ve found that happiness isn’t really a state of being, but rather the moments by which we judge our lives. I mean, how often has someone asked you, “Are you happy?” and you think to yourself, ‘Well, I suppose I am…at least at this moment in time.’ Do you ever wonder why we often think this way and why it is so difficult to reply with a resounding, ‘YES?!’ After giving it considerable thought, I think it has something to do with difficult times and worries overshadowing the positive things in our lives. When we’re burdened, we often feel like the world is ultimately against us and nothing ever seems to work out as we hoped. I can say this because I am guilty of this mentality perhaps more than anyone else.
The point of my rambling here is that happiness is something we must pursue. It does not exist in a vacuum or by chance. It’s built through our relationships, our kindness shown to others, and our ability to love and give of ourselves. This is the seed of happiness. And if given enough care and sunlight, it can grow into a garden of possibilities.
“We tend to forget that happiness doesn’t come as a result of getting something we don’t have, but rather of recognizing and appreciating what we do have.”
– Frederick Koening
“Happiness is not a brilliant climax to years of grim struggle and anxiety. It is a long succession of little decisions simply to be happy in the moment.”
A week has elapsed since I lost my job. Truly, it took nearly three days just for the shock to dissipate and the full irony of the situation to settle into my subconscious. I mean, really…what are the odds of being laid off as many times as I have and now in the worst of economic times? Surely, they must rival the lottery by now. To be completely honest, yes, losing my job gutted me. But, it has happened to me so many times now I can hardly be shocked when I hear ‘the speech’ again and again. I placed first in the national ‘I’ve been laid off’ competition, reciting the speech verbatim in my sleep, standing on one toe, and washing my hair simultaneously.
I really have no idea what I will do now except keep trudging along as I always have in this situation. I’ll keep networking, sending out hundreds of emails in the hope that they don’t land in someone’s ‘spam’ folder, and maybe, hopefully, something will come my way before I starve to death. Isn’t it a sad commentary on the state of the world today when a college degree, fifteen years’ experience, and handfuls of personal testimonies to your abilities can’t even land you secure and steady employment? If this is happening to me and millions of other capable professionals, what hope do today’s graduates have when they walk off that stage, degree in hand, hoping to land the job they’ve been preparing for?
One of the most ironic things I’ve found about the corporate arena is that the crummier a person you actually are, the higher up the ladder you seem to climb. I know you may shake your head in disbelief at this, but I can assure you, it’s so entirely true. As I’ve progressed through the rungs, one painful step at a time, the more corrupt and dishonest people seem to be. Why is this? Does it take this type of person to be able to keep the wheels of capitalism spinning? Do you have to be a self-centered loser to do well professionally? Perhaps that is the root of my problem. You see, I am neither of these things and couldn’t be even if I gave it a hero’s effort. As sarcastic as I appear, I am a painfully nice girl and actually do care about others. I realize that into every life a little a-hole must fall, but wouldn’t it be grand if there were a place where people actually treated one another as they wished to be treated? What an absolute utopia that place would be.
And if I found that place some day, that place of genuine goodness and sincerity where being a good person meant that a good life would befall you, well…who knows.
Yesterday at 10am, I lost my rockstar job. The job I was so proud of, the job that was going to help me finally get my life in order, the job I felt would secure my future career, was gone in the blink of an eye, without warning, reason, or explanation. I spent the entire afternoon at home yesterday, in a state of utter shock and disbelief, fighting back not only tears but the feeling of complete rejection that enveloped me. Why did this happen? What did I possibly do to deserve this at a point in my life when I’m facing the future on my own? Am I the butt of some cruel joke that a power greater than myself has masterminded, and if so, why me? I wish I could understand, but I don’t. The Good Book says that difficult times and trials serve to build personal character, but haven’t I been through enough?
What wounds me most is the way that I was treated yesterday. I was baited into HR’s office by my supervisor to “sign a document,” and backed into a steel trap without any hope of escape. I was told they appreciated my work at the company thus far, but they’ve decided not to continue my employment. After I struggled to pick my jaw off the floor, I proceeded to ask why and got little to no valid explanation for my termination. The irony of it is that two days ago I received a positive appraisal on my 60-day evaluation with my supervisor. The whole situation makes no sense, and quite frankly, stinks of something dishonest. If budget cuts and the economy are such a strain that my job can be deemed ‘superfluous,’ then by all means, tell me that. Don’t shuffle me out the door, with my personal belongings in hand, and make me feel as if I did something to deserve being treated like a second class citizen, or even worse, a criminal. I suppose honesty and integrity are dead on the vine along with chivalry and fidelity. It does seem that the harder I work at my job, the kinder I am to accommodate the needs of others and go beyond the call of duty, the more consistently I get shafted. It breaks my spirit and makes it difficult to believe in the general decency of mankind. I live my life by the Golden Rule: Always treat others how you would want to be treated. The inherent problem here is that in the corporate arena, no one else subscribes to this antiquated ideal. It’s dog-eat-dog and every man for himself…climb the ladder and it doesn’t matter who you have to step on to get to the top. He who has all the gold wins, right? BARF.
So, what will I do now? I suppose I will do what I’ve become so good at doing. I’ll pick myself up by my weathered boot straps, dust myself off, and start again. The most honest and simple thing about me is that I just want to be somewhere that I will be treated with dignity, honor, respect and appreciation for my talent and work ethic. That’s it, in a nutshell. And for whatever reason, that is such a difficult nut to crack.
Do you ever find yourself looking back at a situation or relationship and asking, “How did I ever fall for that?” Lord knows, if I had a dime for every time I’ve thought this way, I’d be living off my millions on a tropical oasis by now. The worst part about it is the realization that you’ve allowed yourself to be ‘snookered’ once again by someone close to you. You bought into the ideal that they would always be there for you, always be helpful and supportive, and most of all, that they would always love you. It seemed such an easy thing to hear and accept at the time, but later you realize that this is a much more difficult task for some and not others.
I’ve said it so many times before: ‘Love’ is a verb, not an adjective. Love is represented in our daily actions, however small and insignificant they may appear at the time. Loving someone is knowing how to be a partner in every aspect of the word, not just when it’s convenient or easy. It’s being the missing puzzle piece to another person’s soul and existence. Through truly loving another person, we are not only fulfilled but provide fulfillment as well. At its best, love is entirely a two-way street. Given this, why is this ideal such a diminishing notion in today’s world? Have people become so self-absorbed that they’ve lost that loving feeling?
Perhaps I’m the wrong person to consult on matters of the heart, given my poor track record. Yes, I’ve made two terrible mistakes in the span of my adult life where love and marriage were concerned, and quite frankly, I have become jaded by the ideal of ‘true love.’ Does it still exist? Can someone actually say what they mean and mean what they say…forever? I really don’t know anymore, but I’d certainly like to think so. Without that possibility, where is joy to be found?
I suppose I am not only seeking closure and answers to my questionable mistakes, but I’m also hoping that true love can and does still exist out there. I want to believe in it, but through the process of ‘raking up my mistakes,’ it is a terribly difficult dream to hold on to.
“Honestly” by Annie Lennox
“The beauty that you gave
Has turned upon itself
And all the things you said
Evaporated
Evaporated …
Was I blind
Deaf and dumb
To the words slipped from your tongue?
Honestly … honestly … honestly
Alone in my bed
The things that you said
Go round in my head … still
It seems to be true
That nothin’ I do
Can influence you …
I tried and tried again
(Don’t you know I tried and tried again
to make you listen to me
But everything I said it always seemed to go right through you)
To make you notice me
(I turned myself into a person that I didn’t like
But please believe me when I say I know it wasn’t right)
But talking to myself
(I never thought that things would
get to be so complicated
I never thought that you and me would end up o frustrated)
Won’t catch you attention I see …
(You’d think that something had to come from all those good intentions
But in the end I needed something more than intervention)
Was I mad?
Was I mad?
Foolish me
Foolish me
To succumb so easily
To succumb
Easily
So easily
So easily
Honestly… honestly… honestly…
(Alone in my bed
The things that you said
Go round in my head … still
It seems to be true
That nothin’ I do
Can influence you… still)
Fools like me get so easily taken
And fools like me can be so mistaken
Honestly… Honestly… Honestly
The promise that you gave
(Don’t you know the promise that you
gave just turned it’s back upon me
I stopped believing but you couldn’t take the whole thing from me)
Has turned it’s back
(I never thought I’d have to pay the price to set you free)
And all you represented
Was just my projection you see…
(You know I never thought I’d ever
live a day without you
And that’s the reason why
it makes me sad to think about you
and you know I never thought
I’d make it if you wasn’t there
And now I’m tryin’ to eject myself
from this despair)
People come
People go…
Never say I “told you so”
Honestly
Everything I know you said
Goin’ round inside my head
Never thought I’d see the day
Always got a price to pay
It’s strange, but I was certain that when the ‘final judgment’ was made in my divorce case, both the husband and I would feel a sense of closure to the entire situation. I must say that I certainly felt a shift in my attitude when the judge uttered the words, “Well folks, that’s it. You’re all done.” It was as if an insurmountable albatross was lifted from around my neck, an incredible weight released from my heart and chest, and I was able to take my first breath in months, if not longer.I drove home from the courthouse reeling from the entire afternoon, recounting the rational nature by which the judge systematically divided and conquered each unsettled item of our marriage.I realize that our legal system must take this approach due to the overwhelming number of divorce cases they see every day, but the manner in which your personal matters are resolved is almost laughable.The judges and mediators trudge through your issues decidedly and quickly, almost as if they have a ‘Divorce checklist’ that they follow and check off as each item is satisfactorily handled.Even though this approach threw me for a loop at first, ultimately, I was grateful that the case was handled much like the dissolution of a business or partnership, rather than an enormous emotional battle of ‘He said, She said.’And, when all was said and done, all of that really didn’t matter anyways.
Four days have elapsed since our divorce settlement and the husband continues to call and text as if nothing much has changed.I’ve urged him to get his affairs in order, begin packing and making arrangements for his departure in a few weeks, but I sense that he is still living in an emotional cloud of denial, regret and sadly, reminiscence as well.He still tells me how much he misses me and my smiling face to greet him each morning and evening, the way I always took care of him, and how I made everything in his life beautiful.Most of the time, I respond either in silence or do my best to change the subject.Despite my feelings or lack thereof towards him now, I do not want to add to his pain or suffering as he is obviously coming to grips with his own demons now.And on occasion, he will tell me how sorry he is that things came to end how they did and that he wasn’t a better husband.Ironically, I do sense the sincerity in his apologies now, even though they don’t change an iota of how I feel about him.I suppose you can chalk it up to the old adage:‘It’s a little too late’ for regret now.
If there is one thing I can pass on to others from this whole catastrophic experience, it is this:
If there is an area of your life or relationship where you know you are falling short, DO something to change it.Don’t expect the situation to miraculously improve if you are unwilling to contribute your share to the betterment of the relationship.If things do not work out favorably or as you hoped, you will have the peace of mind in knowing that you put forth a truly valiant effort.You did all that you could.Once you accept this, you can acknowledge the loss, and ultimately, move on with your life.
And one more bit of unsolicited advice:Don’t say you’re ‘sorry’ once all is said and done.Sorry’s are a dime and dozen, and as Morrissey says…
“Sorry doesn’t help”
Sorry’s pour out of you
All wide-eyed simple smiles
certain to see you through
like a QC full of fake humility
you say:
“Oh, please forgive…”
you say:
“Oh, live and let live…”
but sorry doesn’t help us
and sorry will not save us
and sorry will not bring my teen years back to me (any time soon)
Forced back, it springs right out
seasoned, you have no doubts
you lied about the lies that you told
which is the full extent of what being you is all about
you say:
“Oh, please forgive…”
you say:
“Oh, live and let live…”
but sorry doesn’t help us
sorry will not save us
sorry will not bring my love into my arms (as far as I know…)
sorry doesn’t help us
sorry will not save us
sorry is just a word you find so easy to say… so you say it anyway
sorry doesn’t help us
sorry won’t protect us
sorry won’t undo all the good gone wrong
Well, today was the first day of ‘official’ business for me in The Big Apple. So, I put on my game face this morning as I am here representing my company at a large tradeshow. I am by far in the minority here on two levels: 1.) 80% of the attendees are male and 2.) .001% are from the South! Nevertheless, I am managing to hold my own, keep my head up high and shine my hospitable nature to everyone. In case you’re just tuning in, I am a hardcore supporter of ‘The Golden Rule.’ And no, not the one that says, “he who has the gold makes the rules,” but rather, “Always treat others how you want to be treated.” Trust me folks, you can never go wrong with this approach. Like frowning, it takes much more energy to be negative or rude to someone than to be kind to them. Both of you feel better in the long run and you’re much more likely to make a lasting impression on someone by practicing this approach. If you don’t believe me, give it a try. It will put an immediate pep in your step, pinky swear.
Of course, being a young woman traveling alone always causes the parental units to shift into code orange on the worry and concern scale. Even though I’ve been doing this for years now, my sweet yet sheltered Mom is constantly thinking that I’m either going to be abducted by a cab driver or will get lost and not be able to find my way back to my hotel. Seriously, am I the only one who sees the humor in this? You would think I am a 12 year-old who got lost from their parents in a store or kidnapped at the bus stop! Ma, if you are reading…relax. Nothing is going to happen to me. And if a sketchy situation presents itself, remember that I am a trained master in all of Mr. Miyagi’s best karate moves from watching ‘The Karate Kid’ so many times. If danger approaches….HIII-YAAA!!! That will teach ’em to mess with Mozziestar! 🙂
As far as the husband goes, he still in clueless land of trying to figure out why we are getting divorced. Even though I have explained it to him countless times, it’s a bit like talking to a brick wall. You talk and talk, but nothing gets through. So, I stopped trying to explain in futility and hope that eventually, down the road, he will realize why our marriage failed. If not, he will spend the rest of his life wondering what went wrong and how he played the starring role in it. I do hope for his sake that this isn’t the case for him, but knowing his clueless and eternally blameless nature, I doubt he will ever figure it out.
So friends, thank you sincerely for your continued support, faithful readership, and thoughtful comments and emails. It means more to me than I could possibly express in words. For me, inspiration is a two-way street. I hope to inspire each of you to live your life to the fullest, but in the process, you inspire me as well. Stay golden and keep shining.
Well friends, this Southern Belle is currently in New York City on her first business trip with the new rockstar job. I’ve been to NY many times before, but for some unknown reason, I am enjoying this trip so much more than usual. I had a hilarious co-worker with me the past few days who really showed me a good time and unbelievably, is a Morrissey fan as well. ‘Thanks, Big JC. I owe you one for that.’ He departed this morning, so now I’m on my own. It’s so ironic to me that there are so many European tourists here with what I consider to be much more interesting accents than mine, but my Southern accent appears to be the fascination of everyone around. I’m guessing they must get a lot of foreign travelers here, but maybe not too many from the heart of the South or those who know about the Mason-Dixon line. Either way, it has been fairly entertaining to the locals to listen to me talk. Go figure.
Yesterday, I met a fantastic guy from outside of London who is also here on business. When I first heard him speak, naturally I asked him if he was from Alabama. It took a moment for my corny sense of humor to register with him, but once it did, we struck up a terrific conversation. And yes, I know what your next question is…did I mention that I am a huge Morrissey fan? WELL, YAH! He was too cute and said, “Wow, I’ve never met an American Morrissey fan, much less one with your accent!” I chose to take that as a compliment and hopefully, he didn’t immediately phone home and tell his family what a nutty berry he met in NY. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time!
What really strikes me about this city is the hustle and bustle that seems to come so easily to everyone here. Being from the South, I was born and bred on Southern hospitality, waving and saying hello to everyone I pass. Well, after several of times of doing this out of pure habit, I started to notice all the strange looks I was receiving from my friendly actions. The people seem stunned, almost put off, that I am speaking to them for no apparent reason other than being friendly. Do they think I am a crack dealer or just escaped from the local mental institution? Either way, I am who I am and I firmly believe in always being friendly and hospitable to people I meet. No doubt, I would never survive living in a city like this, nor would I want to. It’s just not this gal’s style.
So, I’m enjoying myself and trying to stay below the radar and not attract too much attention to myself. And to add insult to injury, NONE of the women here look anything like me or my physical features. I’ve noticed most of them are dark haired and skinned, and a bit weathered around the edges. No offense ladies, but just say ‘yes’ to proper skin care! 😉
While I was awaiting my turn in the nail salon this afternoon, I started to space out and think about how it’s 2009 and another year has come and gone before my eyes. I began to recollect the day when I was 22 that my parental units told me how life would really start to fly for me now. They explained how once you graduate from college, get married and settle down, secure your first professional job, etc., everything begins to zoom past you at lightening speed. I remember shrugging at this notion, feeling invincible and forever young at 22. Now, nearly 36, I completely understand what they meant by this. I mean, wasn’t it just yesterday that we had this conversation? Wasn’t it just last week that I graduated from college, degree in hand, ready to put that first foot out in front of me? Where in the world has all the time gone and what do I have to show for it?
Being pegged quite frequently as the eternal pessimist, naturally asking these sorts of questions usually lands me in a depressive stupor. So, I choose to take an objective look in retrospect. Yes, professionally I have done very well for myself in the past decade, despite the whirlwind storms of layoffs and rehires. I’ve climbed the corporate ladder, one painful step at a time, and finally it seems, have a real opportunity with a dynamic and stable company. I can only be thankful and grateful for that. Personally, however, I’ve managed to do a bang-up job at marrying the wrong person (twice) and making a royal mess of things. As Morrissey says, “It’s my life to wreck my own way.”
When I look back on my relationships, yes, there were signs and things I did notice before saying ‘I do,’ but I chose to overlook them, even if it was often done on a subconscious level. I thought that love could conquer all and that if I worked hard enough at the relationships, they would survive and endure. After years of living this way, I finally owned up to the fact that it takes two to tango. If you both aren’t equally committed to making one another happy, you will spin your wheels until there simply isn’t any steam left in your little engine. I certainly have.
So, what now? Well, I choose to close the chapter of 2008, and for once in my life, look forward to the new chapter ahead: the chapter of 2009 and new beginnings. A chapter where I will learn to stand on my own again, let go of the hurt and blame for my own and others’ failures, learn from my mistakes and endeavor not to repeat them, strive to be a better judge of character, and hope to always be a better friend and person. But, most of all, to learn to forgive and forget. I truly believe that it isn’t until we let go of the past that we can begin to embrace our future.
The year was 2003 and it was two years before the husband and I took the proverbial ‘walk down the plank’ and became an official Mister and Missus. At that time, the husband was living in a two bedroom apartment with his eldest son, and after giving it a whole two minutes of heavy consideration, the husband decided to adopt a dog in hopes to add a little joy and companionship to his routine. Knowing that I had a sweet little dog who I carefully trained to not only be loyal, but incredibly affectionate, the husband enlisted my assistance in selecting the best canine candidate from the Humane Society to add to his household. The trip to the Humane Society was a gutting one; cage after cage of precious little dogs who all want you to take them home with you and shower them with love. I have to tell you that I think it’s wonderful when people choose to adopt or rescue an animal who would otherwise be facing certain euthanasia, but having to see this reality firsthand was not an easy thing for me.
So, we are at the Humane Society and I point out several medium-sized dogs that seem to have good temperments and no behaviorial issues. Given that the husband is always correct and completely unflawed in his thinking, he argues that a large dog is best for him since that is what he ‘grew up with.’ Naturally, living in a two bedroom apartment with no backyard is a great living environment for a large dog that requires substantial exercise daily. After no deliberation, the husband selects a lab mixed breed who is still just a puppy. I take a look at the large size of the puppy’s paws and tell the husband, “You know, you might want to reconsider about getting a smaller dog. This dog is going to be a giant and is still growing. Not to mention, puppies require substantial training, discipline and attention. They are full of energy and are a lot like babies in the beginning.” The husband confidently replies, “Oh, I know plenty about dogs. This one will do just fine.”
Knowing that the husband is as stubborn as a mule, I decide to give his dog selecting abilities the benefit of the doubt and keep my opinions to myself. The husband then completes the necessary paperwork, puts the puppy in the car, and we head back to his apartment. When we first arrive, the puppy is so excited by his new home; jumping, frolicking and sniffing every nook and cranny. After giving the place a thorough look, the puppy then becomes interested in everything else that is cluttering the husband’s floor. After only ten minutes in his new home, the puppy reveals that he is going to be quite a handful in terms of keeping him out of trouble. I recommend to the husband that he purchase the puppy some appropriate chew toys and dog bed or crate so that the puppy can familiarize himself with his area and what is acceptable for him to play with in the house. The husband responds, “Nah, I never bought my dogs toys before. He’ll be fine without them.” With this, I say goodnight to the husband and his new puppy before making my way back home.
The next day is a work day and I am scheduled to see the husband that evening directly after work. So, I manage through an otherwise uneventful day at the office before signing off to head over to the husband’s place after work. On my way there, I get a call from the husband on my cell. He says, “You aren’t going to believe this, but I think I’ve been robbed! I just got home and my place is completely destroyed! I better go so I can call the police and report this. I will see you in a little bit, ok?” Naturally, I’m concerned and horrified for the husband and continue on my way over to his place. After several mintues pass, the police arrive and the husband phones me to tell me he has not been robbed after all. I’m confused by this and ask him, “Why? What happened to make you feel otherwise?” He responds, “Well, I noticed the dog is kinda hiding from me and has dirt on his face. One of my plants has been knocked over in the living room. You see, I wasn’t robbed. It was just that damn dog that destroyed my apartment! I’m gonna kill him!!!”
I just received this adorable link and had to share it with everyone. There is nothing that touches me more than the innocent and loving spirit of animals and children. Enjoy!
Well, this has been a hectic week to say the very least. When I woke on Monday, I had a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach knowing everything that is facing me presently. When I actually allow myself to think about it longer than say thirty seconds, I find myself swimming in an ocean of despair. So, I always try to put my ‘happy happy, joy joy’ hat on and face the world with the hope and mission of tackling my adversities.
I met with my attorney this week to sign the dreaded ‘D’ papers, and despite the fact that I know I am making the right decision for my long-term happiness, it is still a gut-wrenching process. It doesn’t matter what circumstances led you to this precipice or how horrible your situation has become. When you are sitting there, staring at the finality of your broken dream in black and white, it knocks the breath out of you. You begin to reflect on the good times the two of you once shared, how you fell in love with your spouse, and the plethora of promises you made to one another when it seemed like you would conquer the world together. I will always cherish these memories and despite my heartache from another failed marriage, I will hold on to the good times we shared. This is the only way to move forward without becoming a victim to raging hostility and dislike of the other person. Hating and blaming your spouse may seem easier for you to progress, but ultimately, the person who suffers the most from harboring this resentment is you.
To get back to my story, my week was off to a rocky start and I was certain that things could not get any worse than they currently are. I found myself falling into the habit of holding a pity party for one, until I realized that absolutely nothing positive could arise from thinking and feeling this way. I do have much to be thankful for and those are the things I should embrace now. My wonderful and completely selfless family, my cherished inner circle of friends, and last but never least, my adorable snaggled-tooth puppy of 11 years. Once I began to channel my negative energy into the positive aspects of my life, I received a call for a second interview for the most rockstar job I could ever dream of. The company is fantastic, stable and profitable. The job itself is an eerie match to my talents and 14 years’ experience in the industry. When I went back to meet the rest of the team that I would be working with, I felt an instant rapport with them. Not only were they incredibly bright and intelligent, but they each had such a great sense of humor. Let me just say this…a sense of humor should be a requirement for the field in which I have worked all of these years. It’s a high stress, demanding, visible position where you are held to a higher standard than most of your peers. Without getting into too much detail, let’s just say that it’s a fairly niche type of position. Not many people fit this role or have the patience (or talent) to truly do well. Ironically, I fit this niche which has always made me more marketable in the job arena than many others with a more generalized background. However, on the flip side of the coin, these type of positions are few and far between so it’s entirely up to you to sell yourself, your talents, your merits, and most of all, why they should select you above all other candidates.
So, I went into this second interview and did just that. I didn’t hold back or allow myself to be too intimidated not to ‘toot my own horn.’ And the interview went off better than I could have expected. When I put that first foot on the floor this morning, I felt hope swelling inside of me. Hope that this fantastic opportunity will pan out for me, hope that I can conquer a new life on my own, hope that I can be around others who appreciate me for who I am rather than who they think I ought to be and hope for a more promising tomorrow. After coffee this morning and a few nibbles to settle my growling stomach, I received a call from this company to return tomorrow for a final, third interview to meet the CEO and partners. Naturally, I am thrilled beyond measure.
What is the moral of Mozzie’s story? Hope is a good thing, perhaps the best of things…and a good thing never dies.
I spent the weekend with a dear friend whose sense of humor and genuine support is a welcomed distraction from my current reality. Perhaps what I like most about this friend is that they don’t bombard me with a littany of questions about my situation with the husband. Yes, they are naturally concerned for my well-being, however, they almost seem to ‘know’ that I’m just not equipped to answer certain questions right now. Does this make any sense? Probably not, however, I will do my best to explain.
You see, being a private person, my innate instinct is to keep my personal business to myself. Even among my closest loved ones, I prefer to share what is necessary and keep the details to myself. First and foremost, it’s really not anyone else’s business to know the intricasies of my life, daily routine and personal situation. I’ve found that the more you ‘invite’ others into this space, the more crowded your reality becomes…eventually, too close for even your own comfort. So, I share what I must to reassure my friends and loved ones that I am ‘okay’ and they need not worry about me 24/7. I got myself into this situation and yes, I am working towards finding my way out. I often find myself wondering why those closest to you feel the need to ask every little emerging question about your situation. ‘‘What are you going to do? Why can’t you kick him out? When is he going to leave and why don’t you make him? What does he say to you when you talk? Why did you marry him anyways? (Sheesh!)”…etc etc. I do understand that these are reasonable questions, but why do others expect what they feel is an acceptable answer to these questions when I am unable and unwilling to address them? How do they feel this scrutiny is helpful even in the slightest regard?
I suppose my point with all of this is that sometimes the greatest gift I can give a friend or a loved one is simply listening and being supportive. This entails hearing what they have to say without opinion or judgment, and easing their mind by reminding them that they can still laugh without being overwhelmed by their current situation. People have no idea what a gift this is to another soul who is struggling with divorce, death, or even life in general. If a friend is troubled and seeks your advice or opinion, they will ask you for it. Don’t assume that you have free liscense to inquire about the ins and outs of their personal situation or tragedy. Trust me, your friend is having a difficult enough time navigating these waters on his own, searching for answers and understanding that often takes months and years to emerge.
So, for this particular friend to whom I am referring: Thank you for being exactly what I need right now. Thank you for listening without constant commentary. Thank you for reminding me to laugh when I feel it’s impossible. Thank you for expecting nothing more but what I am able to give. Thank you for seeing me for who I am and not who you feel I ought to be. And most of all, thank you for being my friend.
Phew, what a crazy couple of days it has been at Mozzie’s pad.Needless to say, informing the husband of filing the ‘D’ papers didn’t go over very well.After four hours of what amounted to a one-sided lecture (from him to me), I managed to escape somewhat unscathed to the parental units for rest, reflection and a lot of TLC.Just what the doctor ordered.The most frustrating aspect of talking with a non-listener is trying to reason logically to them.This is about as futile an effort as trying to solve the current economic crisis over night.When things ‘go bad’ in a situation, it usually didn’t happen in 24 hours.Typically, there is so much that led up to the event, so many little things which at the time didn’t seem insurmountable.The problem with this is that eventually all of the little things add up into an incredible stack of teetering dominos.If you stack the pile high enough, all it takes is one more domino on the top of the pile to send the whole mess tumbling down.My situation with the husband is no exception to this analogy.
Being such a compassionate person makes the situation doubly difficult.You see, when your life is a mess, it doesn’t just affect you.It affects your parents, your immediate family, your friends, and even your sweet little snaggle-toothed puppy.All who love you feel the heat and often get burned from it.Divorce doesn’t just ‘happen’ to you.The collateral damage ripples out to all who love you as well.This is the worst part of it all and makes you feel like the lousiest person in the world for being so stupid.
Nevertheless, my situation is what it is and I am doing my best to take one day at a time.I am thankful for my family and for always having a few people who I know I can depend on, despite my circumstances.I am also grateful that once I removed my rose-colored glasses and saw the husband for exactly who and what he is, I found the courage to say, “No, this isn’t ok to live like this.I deserve better.I’d rather be alone for the right reasons than with someone for the wrong ones.”This is how I feel and ultimately, I know it is a good thing.Yes, I’m terrified of the notion of facing the unknown yet again in my life, but the unknown is better than living a life beneath your standards.You must accept responsibility for your own actions and misfortunes, but you have to forgive yourself sometimes for being human and making mistakes.As Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, “Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind.”I’d like to ‘high five’ Emerson for that one.He certainly knew what he was talking about. So, the moral of the story is: “Acknowledge, move on.”Own up to your circumstances, mistakes and disappointments, but move on to the next phase in your life.Don’t let your past dictate the course of your future.
I will leave you with the incredible lyrics of Martin Gore: “You’ve got to move on sometime, and it’s about time, by putting one foot in front of the other and repeating the process.”
There is sufficient trouble brewing at home right now.I finally understand the notion of ‘the calm before the storm.’Ever since I informed the husband of my intent to divorce him, he has been unusually silent towards me. At first, I thought the silence was just a manifestation of his hurt, disappointment and loss.Obviously, I feel it too…deeply.However, I noticed this morning before he left the house that he would not give me any eye contact.When I asked him what was wrong, he replied, “We need to talk later.”Naturally, I was left feeling very concerned and almost threatened.Immediately, the words of my attorney sprung to mind when she told me, “You need to have him removed from your home before he becomes resentful or paranoid.I know you may think this wouldn’t happen, but it almost always does.Every person has a breaking point.”
After this morning’s bizarre interaction with him, I’ve realized that my attorney’s comments were very insightful, almost foreshadowing events yet to come in my life.After he left this morning, I talked with my Mom about what had transpired.She and the rest of my poor, sweet family are worried sick that he might do something harmful towards me.So, I decided to be proactive and talk to the police about my concerns.I was a bit stunned with what they told me.They said, “Unless he has outright threatened to kill you or hit you, raised his hand to you, etc., there isn’t anything we can do.If he does anything of this nature, dial 911 and we will dispatch an officer to your home and file a report.” Something is terribly wrong with our legal system in the U.S. if you have to wait until your spouse strikes you or verbally expresses his intent to harm you before any action takes place to protect you.It’s really no surprise that women are killed each day by their husbands, ex-husbands, and boyfriends.No one takes them seriously until after they are attacked, abused or even murdered.Does the system not realize that if a woman feels her safety has been comprised, she is not ‘crying wolf?’
I waited for several hours before phoning the husband at work to try and gain some insight into what is going on in his bewildered, paranoid mind.He alluded to noticing ‘changes in my behavior recently,’ which amounted to me talking on my cell phone more than I normally do and staying up later on the phone with friends and/or family members.Mind you, this is nothing new.I’ve always kept in touch with my family each day, especially since these events began to unfold.I began using my cell phone when talking to them simply because I knew he could easily pick up the other receiver on our home phone and listen to my private conversations.Several weeks ago, I had interference on my home phone line due to not having a filter on my DSL, and used my cell phone at home until the problem could be rectified.When I let the dog out one evening before bed, I was talking to my Mom on my cell outside while the dog was tending to his business.When I returned inside, the husband accused me of having a secret affair or talking to someone behind his back.I realized then that attempting to reason with him was completely futile.
So now, I’m frazzled and anxious, not knowing what to expect when he returns home.He has always pledged that he would never harm me, but feeling betrayed and abandoned hits home for him.Somehow, he feels that is what I’m doing to him…just another woman in his life that has broken a promise to him.He accepts no blame or fault from his own actions or lack thereof, but only sees himself as the eternal ‘victim’ of life’s cruel circumstances.This is a dangerous perspective for anyone, particularly him.
I will be careful tonight and in the coming days, cautious and astutely aware of his comments, body language and subtle innuendos.It’s like my attorney said, “Everyone has a breaking point.Losing someone like you could be his.”
As the creator and administrator of this blog, I am able to view the ‘search terms’ that lead people to my site. I know I shouldn’t laugh, but I can’t help myself. And people say I’m the ‘crazy’ one, huh? At least I know I’m not alone!
“And if I seem a little strange, well that’s because I am.” (Morrissey)
Top Search Engine Terms for The “Bad Husband” Chronicles:
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A note from Mozziestar: “If you are a new visitor, please click on “Archives.”
This will boggle your mind. I know it did mine!
The year is 1908.
One hundred years ago.
What a difference a century makes!
Here are some statistics for the Year 1908:
*********** ********* ********* ******
The average life expectancy was 47 years.
Only 14 percent of the homes had a bathtub.
Only 8 percent of the homes had a telephone.
There were only 8,000 cars and only 144 miles of paved roads.
The maximum speed limit in most cities was 10 mph.
The tallest structure in the world was the Eiffel Tower!
The average wage in 1908 was 22 cents per hour.
The average worker made between $200 and $400 per year.
A competent accountant could expect to earn $2000 per year,
A dentist $2,500 per year, a veterinarian between $1,500 and $4,000 per year, and a mechanical engineer about $5,000 per year.
More than 95 percent of all births took place at HOME.
Ninety percent of all doctors had NO COLLEGE EDUCATION!
Instead, they attended so-called medical schools, many of which
Were condemned in the press AND the government as ‘substandard.’
Sugar cost four cents a pound.
Eggs were fourteen cents a dozen.
Coffee was fifteen cents a pound.
Most women only washed their hair once a month, and used
Borax or egg yolks for shampoo.
Canada passed a law that prohibited poor people from entering into their country for any reason.
The population of Las Vegas, Nevada was only 30!!!!
Crossword puzzles, canned beer, and ice tea hadn’t been invented yet.
There was no Mother’s Day or Father’s Day.
Two out of every 10 adults couldn’t read or write.
Only 6 percent of all Americans had graduated from high school.
Marijuana, heroin, and morphine were all available over the counter at the local corner drugstores. Back then pharmacists said, ‘Heroin clears the complexion, gives buoyancy to the mind, regulates the stomach and bowels, and is, in fact, a perfect guardian of health.’
(Shocking? DUH! )
Eighteen percent of households had at least one full-time servant or domestic help.
Now…Imagine where we will be in 2108. Skeery, isn’t it?
With tomorrow being Thanksgiving, I felt it would only be appropriate to fiddle around with the subject.I’ve always considered myself a ‘thankful’ person, often putting the needs of others before my own, and expecting little in return.I carefully remind myself daily to acknowledge the blessings I have in my life, rather than dwell on all the broken and missing pieces.Trust me, I am as human as the next person.Like you, I frequently fall into the trap of negative thinking when it seems everything is plummeting down on me at the exact same moment in time.In a sense, I’ve often viewed my life as a Shakespearean ‘Comedy of Errors,’ only no one, including me, understands the humor.
Many of you would never suspect it, but I have struggled with depression most of my life.I trace it back to around twelve years old when I first noticed it.It took several years to diagnose, and many more to successfully treat it.I have no family history of depression, no sad story of abuse or neglect, and no abandonment or desertion issues.I come from an ideal family, with loving parents married for forty years, and two of the most amazing brothers anyone could possibly ever dream of.So, what could I possibly be depressed about…especially at twelve years old?
I have spent many years of my adolescent and adult life trying to answer this question.I can hardly know if there is a ‘correct’ answer here, but I think it has to do with being more aware than the average person.If you’ve heard the expression, “Wearing your heart on your sleeve,” imagine wearing your heart, soul, hopes, and dreams in the same spot.It gets fairly crowded there and unfortunately, this unique set of attributes often makes you an unsuspecting and easy target for life’s frequent misfires.I have been nailed too many times to count.Nevertheless, I’ve learned from every wound and battle scar, even if it was often in retrospect.I believe the most valuable and precious thing I’ve learned is this…
Be thankful for the blessings in your life, whether great or small.Often the greatest gifts come in the smallest packages.Show love, kindness and gratitude to everyone, even when your gut instinct doesn’t want you to.In giving, you will receive.In loving, you will be loved.Learn from the past, but do not let it dictate the course of your future.As Thoreau said, “Go confidently in the direction of your dreams.”Be willing to risk in order to gain the reward.Take a leap of faith despite how firmly your feet may be planted.
After thirty-five years, I am going to attempt this for the first time in my life.I may sink or I may swim, but I will appreciate the journey and those who have brought sunshine to my pathway along the way.
Have A Wonderful Thanksgiving,
Mozziestar
“At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us.”
– Albert Schweitzer
“Develop an attitude of gratitude, and give thanks for everything that happens to you, knowing that every step forward is a step toward achieving something bigger and better than your current situation.”
– Brian Tracy
“Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.”
– Marcel Proust
“Make it a habit to tell people thank you. To express your appreciation, sincerely and without the expectation of anything in return. Truly appreciate those around you, and you’ll soon find many others around you. Truly appreciate life, and you’ll find that you have more of it.”
The "Bad Husband" Chronicles 