I’ve spent the past four days with the parental units in an effort to escape the chaos, hysteria and generally horrendous cloud hanging over my home right now.They say that ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder,’ huh?I think absence makes the will grow stronger, personally.Obviously, I’ve known the appropriate course of action to take in my marriage for quite some time now, however, simply stepping outside of the situation for a few days can do wonders to clarify and solidify your feelings.If you doubt me, give it a whirl.One of two things will happen and you will either say:1. “I’m an idiot for thinking that way.My situation isn’t nearly as bad as it seemed.” or 2. “I cannot believe I’ve been living this way. What in the world have I been thinking all of these months and years?!”I don’t think it takes a brain surgeon to decipher which of these two responses I fall under.Perhaps the most difficult part for both me and others is in understanding why it took me so long to see this for myself.
It hasn’t been an easy situation, trying to explain to the husband why I feel the need to have time to myself and for us to be living separately.For months, he’s been in a state of denial as far as my intent to end our marriage, and it seems that only in the past few weeks has he started to realize that this is actually going to happen and there isn’t anything he can do about it.In short, “This chic is toast…game over, man.Game over.”I realize some of you might be inclined to think that I am unforgiving or half-heartedly committed to my marriage by being able to say this rather tongue-in-cheek.Actually, that could not be farther from the truth.For years, I’ve done everything…been everything…put in 150% day in and day out, only to be met by broken promises and disappointment after disappointment.The most ironic thing about my ‘bad marriage’ track record is that you will never meet anyone who believes in love and the beauty of what marriage is intended to be more than I do.I’ve grown up with the most wonderful examples of it, my parents and even my grandparents.But, even with the best example presented to you throughout your life, your marriage is only as good as what each partner is willing to put into it.I’ve been married two times now.Both times, I married men who were unable to meet me half-way on the spouse spectrum.Both times, I married men who promised one thing at the altar, yet behaved an entirely different way once we came home.C’est la vie, indeed.
I in no way intend this to sound like a pity party on my behalf, as I’m just as accountable in the situation for not making a wiser decision in the first place.I know what you are thinking:‘Didn’t you know your husband was like this before you married him?Surely, there were signs, weren’t there?’ The answer to these questions are no and yes.No, I didn’t know my husband was like this until after we married and yes, there were signs that I should have paid more attention to.It’s like I’ve said a million times before:I am a human being who makes stupid mistakes like each and every person.I am just as fallible and accountable for my decisions.
All of this makes me reflect on The Beatles’ lyrics, “All you need is love.Love is all you need.”Do you need love to sustain a happy and lifelong marriage?Absofreakin’ lutely.Is this ‘all’ you need?No way…not even remotely.A long and happy marriage also requires trust, mutual respect, and the ability to give even when you feel like you’ve already contributed more than your fair share.
I will leave you with a quote from an article I read recently that stuck in my mind.“Most people think marriage is 50/50. It’s not. It’s 60/40. You give 60. You take 40. And that goes for both of you.Love is a four-letter word spelled G-I-V-E.”
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.”
I am currently staying with my parents and am safe. So many of you have emailed with your concerns since my last post. I will return later with today’s entry.
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.”
Right, so I was having a conversation last night with a friend who informed me that men and women inherently can’t ‘just be friends.’He was alluding to the idea that encapsulated the movie, ‘When Harry Met Sally,’ and that every man wants to be intimate with a woman he finds attractive.Below is a snippet of that conversation from the movie…
Harry Burns: “You realize of course that we could never be friends. Sally Albright: Why not? Harry Burns: What I’m saying is – and this is not a come-on in any way, shape or form – is that men and women can’t be friends because the sex part always gets in the way. Sally Albright: That’s not true. I have a number of men friends and there is no sex involved. Harry Burns: No you don’t. Sally Albright: Yes I do. Harry Burns: No you don’t. Sally Albright: Yes I do. Harry Burns: You only think you do. Sally Albright: You say I’m having sex with these men without my knowledge? Harry Burns: No, what I’m saying is they all WANT to have sex with you. Sally Albright: They do not. Harry Burns: Do too. Sally Albright: They do not. Harry Burns: Do too. Sally Albright: How do you know? Harry Burns: Because no man can be friends with a woman that he finds attractive. He always wants to have sex with her. Sally Albright: So, you’re saying that a man can be friends with a woman he finds unattractive? Harry Burns: No. You pretty much want to nail ’em too. Sally Albright: What if THEY don’t want to have sex with YOU? Harry Burns: Doesn’t matter because the sex thing is already out there so the friendship is ultimately doomed and that is the end of the story. Sally Albright: Well, I guess we’re not going to be friends then. Harry Burns: I guess not. Sally Albright: That’s too bad. You were the only person I knew in New York.”
So, it really got my mind reeling at this notion, mainly because I’ve typically had more male friends than female in my life, and I haven’t had sex with any of them.What I’m wondering is:Am I an exception to the rule?Do members of the opposite sex befriend you with the subconscious agenda that they will eventually be intimate with you?I can’t help but beg to differ here.
My BFF of over 11 years now is male and we’ve never been even remotely romantic with one another.I know what you’re thinking: “Is he ugly?Are you?”I can say that he’s absolutely adorable and very easy on the eyes.As far as I’m concerned, I’ve been told I’m ‘pretty’ many times, so I’m willing to give that assessment the benefit of the doubt.So, why haven’t we been romantically involved?I think it’s a fairly simple answer.We both value our friendship above anything else and hold it in very high esteem.I can’t help but quote Morrissey here, “Is it really so strange?”
What I find particularly amusing about this scenario is how much this frustrates other women.If I am friends with ‘their man,’ they automatically assume that I have romantic intentions towards him and want him for my own.The female can even be sitting with us as we talk and hear our conversation, and yet, she is still inclined to be jealous of me.Why is this?What in the world is there to be jealous of in having or discovering a new friend?Should it matter whether they have male or female private parts in order to establish a connection with them?I really do wish I could answer this question, as it always seems to be a reoccurring issue for me.
Perhaps I’m too rudimentary in my thinking.I subscribe to the basic notion that Thoreau wrote of in the late 1800s.He said, “A friend is a person before whom I may think aloud.”That’s the beautiful and simple truth in my mind.Friendship is entirely different than romantic attachment.I can only hope that others might eventually feel this way and shelve their feelings of jealousy, skepticism and insecurity.Lighten up…take a chill pill…It’s all good!How could it be anything but that?
“The Dummy” by Michael Mack
In that forgotten part of town
Where wasted hopes and dreams abound,
A wrinkled man with life near end,
In hopes to have at least one friend,
Fashioned bits of wood and things
And made a dummy run by strings.
He sat alone for hours on end,
Conversing with his only friend
And found delight within the fact
That he controlled it’s every act.
He told it how he never had
A chance, since all his luck was bad
Although he’d tried so to succeed –
The dummy nodded and agreed.
And how his journeys in romance
Had never given him a chance,
And wasn’t it a crying shame
That he was always held to blame
When everyone knew, oh so well,
That life is but a living Hell,
Controlled by lust and power and greed?
The dummy nodded and agreed.
With patience that would rival saints,
That dummy sat through all complaints
And, with each little expert tug,
He’d droop his head or bow or shrug
And give some comfort to the man
Who held his lifelines in his hand
And helped to fill a lonely need
When he just nodded and agreed.
Senility increased with time
As did the old man’s phantomime,
And feverish fingers pulled with glee
The dummy’s dance of misery.
They never left each other’s side
Until the day both stopped and died.
We found them lying, hand in hand,
The dummy – and his wooden friend.
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:
Bad Husband Chronicles
I have been a bad husband
Magic potion for bad husband
Being so far from your friends, and you’re all alone
Poems about husband’s boss
How to make an Alabama Slammer
Burn down office without getting caught
TGIF quotes
Hilarious email
Alcoholic husband has a bad odor
My husband and his co-worker are too close
Don’t forget the lyrics
My dog eats poop
I want a magic carpet
Go sell crazy somewhere else
How to make someone realize that her husband is an ass
Slipping husband Xanax
Bad marriage
How do I make my marriage right after years of it being wrong?
I found this relic in my English notebook from high school. I don’t know why, but I find it so amusing. The irony is that I am still the same girl, just older and hopefully, wiser now. Enjoy…
5-21-91: “Assignment: What are some thorns in your side?”
Well, this should be an interesting assignment given that I’ve always considered myself to be ‘the girl with a thorn in her side.’ Here are just a few of the things that come to mind that truly bug me:
1.People
2.Myself
3.Noise
4.Dishonesty
5.Cruelty
6.Stupidity
7.No milk for breakfast
8.Sunshine in my bedroom at 7am on Saturday AND Sunday mornings
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.”
For all of you who occasionally have a really bad day when you just need to take it out on someone: Don’t take that bad day out on someone you know, take it out on someone you *don’t* know! Now get this. I was sitting at my desk, when I remembered a phone call I had to make. I found the number and dialed it.
A man answered nicely saying, ”Hello?’ ‘
I politely said, ”This is Patrick Hanifin and could I please speak to Robin Carter?”
Suddenly the phone was slammed down on me! I couldn’t believe that anyone could be that rude. I tracked down Robin’s correct number and called her. She had transposed the last two digits incorrectly. After I hung up with Robin, I spotted the wrong number still lying there on my desk. I decided to call it again.
When the same person once more answered, I yelled, ”You’re a jackass!” and hung up.
Next to his phone number I wrote the word ”jackass,” and put it in my desk drawer.
Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills, or had a really bad day, I’d call him up.
He’d answer, and I’d yell, ”You’re a jackass!”
It would always cheer me up.
Later in the year the Phone Company introduced caller ID. This was a real disappointment for me, I would have to stop calling the jackass. Then one day I had an idea.
I dialed his number, then heard his voice say, ”Hello.” I made up a name. ”Hi. This is the sales office of the Telephone Company and I’m just calling to see if you’re familiar with our caller ID program?”
He went, ”No!” and slammed the phone down.
I quickly called him back and said, ”That’s because you’re a jackass!”
The reason I took the time to tell you this story, is to show you how if there’s ever anything really bothering you, you can do something about it. Just dial 823-4863.
The old lady at the mall really took her time pulling out of the parking space. I didn’t think she was ever going to leave. Finally, her car began to move and she started to very slowly back out of the slot. I backed up a little more to give her plenty of room to pull out. ” Great,” I thought, she’s finally leaving. All of a sudden this black Camaro comes flying up the parking isle in the wrong direction and pulls into her space.
I started honking my horn and yelling, ”You can’t just do that, Buddy. I was here first!” The guy climbed out of his Camaro completely ignoring me. He walked toward the mall as if he didn’t even hear me. I thought to myself, “This guy’s a jackass. There sure a lot of jackasses in this world.”
I noticed he had a ”For Sale” sign in the back window of his car. I wrote down the number. Then I hunted for another place to park.
A couple of days later, I’m at home sitting at my desk. I had just gotten off the phone after calling 823-4863 and yelling, ”You’re a jackass!” (It’s really easy to call him now since I have his number on speed dial.) I noticed the phone number of the guy with the black Camaro lying on my desk and thought I’d better call this guy, too.
After a couple rings someone answered the phone and said, ”Hello.”
I said, ”Is this the man with the black Camaro for sale?”
”Yes, it is.”
”Can you tell me where I can see it?”
”Yes, I live at 1802 West 34th street. It’s a yellow house and the car’s parked right out front.”
I said, ”What’s your name?”
”My name is Don Hansen.”
”When’s a good time to catch you, Don?”
”I’m home in the evenings.”
”Listen Don, can I tell you something?”
”Yes.”
”Don, you’re a jackass!” And I slammed the phone down.
After I hung up I added Don Hansen’s number to my speed dialer. For a while things seemed to be going better for me. Now when I had a problem I had two jackasses to call. Then, after several months of calling the jackasses and hanging up on them, it just wasn’t as enjoyable as it used to be. I gave the problem some serious thought and came up with a solution:
First, I had my phone dial Jackass #1.
A man answered nicely saying, ”Hello.”
I yelled ”You’re a jackass!” but I didn’t hang up.
The jackass said, ”Are you still there?”
I said, ”Yeah.”
He said, ”Stop calling me.”
I said, ”No.”
He said, ”What’s you name, pal?”
I said, ”Don Hansen.”
He said, ”Where do you live?”
”1802 West 34th Street. It’s a yellow house and my black Camaro’s parked out front.”
”I’m coming over right now, Don. You’d better start saying your prayers.”
”Yeah, like I’m really scared, Jackass!” and I hung up.
Then I called Jackass #2. He answered, ”Hello.”
I said, ”Hello, Jackass!”
He said, ”If I ever find out who you are…”
”You’ll what?”
”I’ll kick your butt.”
”Well, here’s your chance. I’m coming over right now Jackass!” And I hung up.
Then I picked up the phone and called the police. I told them I was at 1802 West 34th Street and that I was going to kill my gay lover as soon as he got home.
Another quick call to Channel 13 about the gang war going on down W. 34th Street.
After that, I climbed into my car and headed over to 34th Street to watch the whole thing. Glorious watching two Jackasses kicking the crap out of each other in front of six squad cars and a police helicopter was one of the greatest experiences of my life!
I woke up this morning and debated whether or not to write an entry today.I’ve always subscribed to the notion that my parents taught me as a kid: “Now Mozzie, if you can’t say anything ‘nice,’ don’t say anything at all.”I really do try and approach my life this way, as childish and rudimentary as it may seem.The ‘thing’ is that most days I manage to survive relatively well.I do my best to maintain a positive attitude, constantly reminding myself that there are so many others who are facing trials and adversities in their lives, but occasionally, I find myself thinking “Seriously, how much more crap can I take in my life?”Today is one of those days.
Like the rest of America, I am having a horrible time trying to find a job.I’ve sent out at least several hundred resumes, replies to job postings, inquires, etc. and absolutely nothing has come to fruition.I wish this were the only troublesome thing facing me currently, but it’s not, by any stretch of the imagination.I received my initial paperwork to file for divorce this morning, and even though I know it’s the ‘right’ decision to make, it felt like a virus sitting in my inbox.Sort of like a written manifestation of yet another failure I’ve managed to accomplish in my thirty-five years on this planet.And no, I’m not trying to hold a pity party on my behalf, but, when I look back at my life thus far, I’m amazed at how much misfortune and doo doo that I’ve had to endure.Marriages flushed down the toilet at lightening speed, false friendships, betrayals, disappointments, and lay off after lay off after lay off.Why does this continue to happen to me?If I’m such a ‘good’ person, why do I have more than my fair share of pain and hardship?
I cannot answer this question, despite how much I spin my wheels in futility.I find myself sighing while thinking of Morrissey’s words, “Scavenging through life’s very constant lulls, so far from where I intended to go.”Despite this, when I face trials and problems that feel insurmountable, I often look to The Bible for wisdom and understanding.I realize that many view The Bible as a folk story or a collection of ancient ‘do good’ sayings.I suppose, on the surface, it can be viewed as such.But, I look at it from the standpoint of someone who suffered, yet overcame, the most unbelievable hardship and adversity that anyone possibly ever could.This gives me comfort and somehow, gives me strength as well.
If difficult times serve to build character, then I am on my way to becoming a living personification of that ideal.Will I look back on my life one day and say, “Oh, so THAT is why that happened?I get it now.”I certainly hope so.There’s nothing worse than spending your life waiting for an absolution that will never come.So, I won’t.I’ll take each quandary as it comes and try and learn what I can from it.And perhaps someday, I will understand.
“The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.”
– Deuteronomy 31:8
“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”
– Matthew 6:34
5am:I’m predictably awake and decide attempting to fall back asleep is as futile an effort as trying to launch the space shuttle from my backyard.I creep downstairs, turn the heat up and start the coffee pot.The kitchen is in its usual morning shambles, cluttered with the husband’s dirty dishes, pocket change, and empty soda cans.I’m too groggy to begin my cleanup duties and instead decide to cuddle up on the sofa and watch a movie.‘Gas, Food, Lodging’ is my morning movie of choice.
8am:My puppy jingles downstairs, obviously aware that life is stirring on the floor beneath him, and wakes me from my catnap on the sofa.I reach over to pet him, but he’s as regular as rain when it comes to his morning potty routine.So, I scoot off the comfy spot and trudge to the back door to hook him to his lead to carry on with his business.Several minutes pass and I realize that he hasn’t come scratching on the back door to be let back inside.Naturally, I’m concerned so I open the door to the back patio and see his lead completely ensnared and entangled around the wheel of the garbage can.I begin to fuss at him, as he always seems to accomplish something of this nature, but realize that I’m going to have to unhook him from the lead to get him free.I silently debate this for a moment, knowing all too well the lightening speed escape that my puppy is capable of.Seeing no other option, I unhook him and begin untangling the lead from the garbage wheel.Within five seconds, my puppy has taken off faster than a bullet fired at close range.I panic, as losing him in a moment of carelessness has always been my greatest fear in these eleven years.I am immediately forced with a dilemma.You see, my backyard is nearly a 90 degree slope, plummeting into wilderness and overgrown poison oak and ivy.My neighbors all have barricades or fences surrounding their backyards, so crossing through them to retrieve my misbehaving puppy isn’t an option.It’s either down the slope or nothing at all.
I take two steps very carefully down the dangerous slope before my right foot slides out from under me, and I begin my thunderous fall down the embankment.I plummet head first into a rapid roll, only to be stopped by a gigantic pine tree that breaks my fall across my right cheek.The thump of my face slamming into the tree’s bark sounds like a punch scene from ‘Rocky.’I am completely disoriented, out of breath, and stunned that I have managed to yet again, be the most unlucky and uncoordinated person on the planet.I briefly assess my injuries, grab my right cheek in utter pain and disbelief, and moan at the raw meat that is now hanging from my right arm and left calf.Realizing I am still alive and on a mission to rescue my puppy, I manage to stand up with arms and legs wobbling from shock and injury.
I look two yards over and see my puppy, completely frozen in stature, having obviously watched this extraordinary event firsthand.I make my way over to him and he doesn’t move a muscle, doesn’t even attempt a sniff or a probable getaway.He realizes what has just happened and knows that he’s the guilty party that caused this whole calamity.I pick him up in my shredded arm and carry him back to my back patio, not tempting fate by hoping he will return on his own.I open the back door to the house and he makes a beeline upstairs and jumps into bed with the husband.I walk into the bathroom to get the whole visual picture of what has just transpired.My right cheek has an enormous red patch on it, likely to turn blue within hours, if not minutes.The tender underside of my right arm is totally thrashed and shredded from sliding down the surface of the tree bark, and the pain is excruciating.I wash my wounds, retrieve a frozen bag of peas from the freezer, and place it on my cheek.As I recline on the sofa, I think to myself, “Someone out there must be filming my life.They couldn’t write this into a series if they tried.When will I receive my cut of the royalties?”
10am:The red patch on my right cheek has grown into a large and dark spot now.I look remarkably like someone has given me their best right hook punch.As much as you are all inclined to believe that the husband inflicted this upon me, I can assure you that it was all my own doing.And that, in and of itself, is the funniest and most ironic thing about the entire accident and most likely, about my entire weekend.
9am: I am stirred into consciousness by the sound of my dog tapping his paws and performing the ‘Curly Shuffle’ around the bed. Poor little peach has to potty and Mama has overslept for the first time in weeks, perhaps months. I drag one foot from the bed unto the floor, and then the other, rub my tired eyes, and make my way downstairs. I can hear the husband’s congested snore emanating from the guest bedroom, as I imagine he’s dreaming about either the approaching of Armageddon or Woody Woodpecker. Chances are, probably both.
9:30am: I sit down at my laptop, still painfully groggy, and begin to recall last night’s dream. As you are well aware by now, dreaming is an activity I unknowingly participate in nightly, despite the fact that I’m rarely able to make any sense of it. So, I frequently turn to the ‘experts’ for their professional guidance and opinion. Last night’s dream was a doozie and I am still reeling in confusion. I dreamt that I was a child again, in a large water park, surrounded by children with whom I spent my elementary school days. Mind you, these are friends and faces that I have not seen or thought of in twenty-five years. How they emerged in my dream, so vividly captured and recalled, beats the heck out of me. The mind is an amazing sponge, indeed, and the irony of its power lies in its ability to ‘squeeze out’ memories from so long ago.
In my dream, I was an adult, as I am now. My friends, however, were still children, perfectly captured in my mind’s eye as I still recall them. We were slipping and sliding down a large waterslide, laughing and giggling throughout every twist and turn. Given that I am far from a psychiatrist or therapist, I decide to consult the Dream Dictionary Doctors at www.dreammoods.com to hopefully gain some insight.
“Waterslide”
To dream that you are on or see a waterslide, suggests that you are being swept away by your emotions. You are slowly exploring the realm of your unconscious. Alternatively, the dream suggests that you are going with the flow of things without any objections or resistance.
“Children”
To see children in your dream, signifies your own childlike qualities or a retreat back to a childlike state. It is an extension of your inner child during a time of innocence, purity, simplicity, and a carefree attitude. You may be longing for the past and the chance to satisfy repressed desires and unfulfilled hopes. Take some time off and cater to the inner child within. Perhaps there is something that you need to see grow and nurtured.
Wowzers. Do these folks work for Dionne Warwick and her Psychic Friends Network or is it just me? Despite these explanations hitting the proverbial nail on the head, I still ponder what my personalized response would be from The Dream Dictionary Doctors…
“Dear Mozzie, thank you once AGAIN for consulting The Dream Dictionary to identify the meaning of your childish, waterslide adventure. Upon further analysis, it is our professional opinion that you are hopelessly trapped in 1983. We recommend that you enter your nearest bathroom, take a look in the mirror, and reach the realization that you are thirty five years-old and are too big to go watersliding. Youth may be wasted on the young, but you waste our time when the answers you seek are clearly in front of you. Dry off, bid your childhood friends farewell, and take a step forward for a change. If this effort fails, we have an immediate refferral on file on your behalf to the nearest mental health facility. Just sayin’. Best wishes for your eventual recovery, The Dream Dictionary Doctors.”
So, given this subliminal advice, I choose to step forward rather than backward and begin a new journey. I may trip and stumble, and frequently lose my way, but the key is in staying the course. What’s at the end of my journey? Only time will tell. Hopefully, acceptance, and most importantly, discovery.
“The past is not dead. In fact, it’s not even past.”
– William Faulkner, US novelist (1897-1962)
“If any one faculty of our nature may be called more wonderful than the rest, I do think it is memory. There seems something more speakingly incomprehensible in the powers, the failures, the inequalities of memory, than in any other of our intelligences. The memory is sometimes so retentive, so serviceable, so obedient; at others, so bewildered and so weak; and at others again, so tyrannic, so beyond control! We are, to be sure, a miracle every way; but our powers of recollecting and of forgetting do seem peculiarly past finding out.”
In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been in a bit of a reflective mode lately.I suppose that often happens when life presents you with yet another curve ball and twist in the road, so rather than fight it, I choose to embrace it and see what I can learn from it.Today, I’m thinking about friendship.What is it, really?How do you measure it?I’ve always been accused of “expecting too much” out of my friends, so oftentimes, I find myself feeling disappointed and disgruntled when a friend fails to be there for me when I need them to be.Years ago, I had a friend who coined me “the pillar,” because she said that I was always the one who was there for her when no one else was.Naturally, I took this as a great compliment, knowing all too well what a great gift this is to another human being.Even now, years later, I still wear that hat.However, I suppose the difference now is that I’ve learned that being a pillar of strength for others must first begin with being your own.I am mine.
Through the years, I’ve had a difficult time with my female friends.I suppose the root of this started in adolescence when my “best” friend went behind my back and pursued my boyfriend without my knowledge.I was completely gutted by her deception, but most of all, by her blatant disregard of the trust I had selflessly placed in our friendship.After this transpired, I was never quite the same with my female friends.Realizing the inherent flaws of my own sex, I became much more guarded and cautious about trusting them.Occasionally, I would open up, share myself with them, be supportive of them, and then ultimately be stabbed in the back or simply disappointed with them.Even to this day, I have very few female friends.I’d like to, but I find that I have to take their friendships with a grain of salt and not expect to run into the exception to the rule.I realize that no one is perfect by any means, but I’ve found that women can be inherently cruel and petty beyond measure.I am neither of these things, so I’ve learned to always tread lightly when embarking on a new friendship with another woman.I suppose you could say that I am “scarred, but smarter” now.
Excuse my digression, as the intent of this entry is to focus on friendship.Getting back to my story, I have a very dear friend of over a decade now, who has been there through many of my trials and misfortunes through the years.We met in the most unlikely of places, a Morrissey chat forum, back in 1997.There was something unique about this fella from the get-go and we seemed to ‘click’ in an odd and unusual fashion, which really surprised me.We corresponded through the forum for a few weeks until we exchanged email addresses and decided to be introduced properly.Weekly emails transformed into daily ones and we began to share our life stories with one another.We are very different in some regards, and yet, erringly similar in others.Nevertheless, our differences always seem to compliment each other and even though he drives me crazy on a daily basis, I cherish his friendship.In the past, I found myself annoyed and irritated when he failed to be there for me when I felt he should have been.I would find myself thinking, “Why do I bother with him? He obviously doesn’t care about me because he would call or email if he did.”Up until recently, I still felt this way, but then, something switched inside of me.I realized that I have been holding him (and others) to MY standard of friendship and that is my own wrongdoing.You can’t measure friendship by a rigid standard of how you personally define it, but rather embrace the friendship that is given to you.If you expect others to reciprocate exactly how you would in a particular situation, you will always be disappointed.However, if you accept their token of friendship, however small and insignificant it may seem, you will always be grateful in receiving it.
As Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, “A friend is a person before whom I may think aloud.”Discover the beauty in this statement and hold on to it.Accept your friends for who they are and not what you feel they ought to be and you will never be disappointed.So, I leave you now with the words of Morrissey, who I believe said it best, “Hold on to your friends.”
“A bond of trust has been abused
Something of value may be lost
Give up your job,
Squander your cash – be rash
Just hold on to your friends
There are more than enough to fight and oppose
Why waste good time fighting the people you like,
Who would fall defending your name?
Don’t feel so ashamed to have friends
But now, you only call me when you’re feeling depressed
When you feel happy I’m so far from your mind,
My patience is stretched, my loyalty vexed
You’re losing all of your friends
Hold on to your friends
Hold on to your friends
Resist – or move on
Be mad, be rash
Smoke and explode
Sell all of your clothes
Just bear in mind:
There just might come a time
When you need some friends..”
When I awakened this morning, I felt overwhelmed by the intricacies of my current situation.I immediately thought about all of the negative things working against me at present…being laid off during the worst recession, struggling to make ends meet, navigating the painful beginning steps of divorce, and feeling alone in the entire process.At first, when I sat down at my laptop to write today’s entry, I thought I would vent some of this frustration.I mean, everything definitely sucks for me right now, so why not get it off my chest so I can feel better about things?Then, I opened my email and had a note from an ex-coworker that contained the message below.
You see, ‘Clueless VP’s’ wife has struggled with cancer for many years now, and despite their efforts in progressive treatment, they were unable to save her life.Upon first reading this message, I almost felt a ting of satisfaction that someone who has wronged me is having something bad happen to them as a result.This notion lasted for about thirty seconds until I realized that it wasn’t at all about me or my dislike of ‘Clueless VP,’ but about the loss of a wife, a mother, and a friend.I began to cry as I thought about the two young sons left behind, facing the rest of their lives without the love and support that only a mother can provide.How do others survive a loss like this?How do they find the courage to carry on when they’ve lost their most prized asset?I cannot begin to comprehend it.
All I know is that my problems, seemingly insurmountable to me at present, are but a grain of sand in comparison to what this family is enduring.And somehow, my angst and feelings of ill will towards ‘Clueless VP’ seem childish and preposterous now…almost unfounded.I suppose the moral of the story, if there be one, is that no matter what adversity you may currently face, there are others who face much more difficult trials and losses.In order to grow as a person, you must surrender the pain, regret, feelings of ill will, and negative emotions and instead channel this energy into finding the greater good.Realizing this is much easier said than done, I am my own harshest critic in this regard.Nevertheless, this is how I will face each day in the future.Release the guilt, blame, and regret and seek the good, the honorable, and the positive in everything.This is my admonition and I encourage you to seek it as well.
I will leave you with the email note that started this entire train of thought.And, as difficult as it may be for me to will this into practice, I must remind myself to always treat others the way I want to be treated, even when they have been unkind to me, for this is the greater good in life.This is the ideal.
Dearest friends,
My wife passed away this afternoon, very peacefully and without pain. I was holding her hand and her best friend was by her side. Her closest friends were at our home within minutes and all shared their goodbyes. I have been most worried about our kids – lots of conflicting advice about how to handle things. After friends brought them home early from school, I took both of them into my oldest son’s room and told them that their mother had died. Both knew what I was going to say. We cried and held each other for a good long while. Then, with their permission, we moved to the master bedroom. Their mother was on the single hospital bed where she had died facing away from us. The boys and I sat on our king bed, talking about their Mama and how we had been preparing for this day. We spoke of how things will change and how they will stay the same. The boys were very thoughtful and mature, all things considered. There were quiet moments infused with love and emotion.
I am glad that my children had this time with their mother. It felt the right level of connection with her, and among us, and I believe it will help with their closure. I feel certain that my wife would have been pleased by this.
We all knew this day was coming, but it is of course so very sad that it has arrived.
Today’s entry is a special and unique one.You see, today, November 17th, is my precious Grandmama’s 90th birthday.She is truly a remarkable gem of a mother, grandmother, sister, and friend.She moved into an assisted living home several years back, and despite the heartache of leaving her home behind, she found and made a home there.I was fortunate enough to spend my senior year of high school living with her in her small, rural Mississippi town of only 7,000 people.What I discovered about this town is that it’s a living example of quality, rather than quantity, of people.The year I spent with her was one of my happiest, by far.
So, without further ado, I like to share “Mozziestar Flashback Entry, Year: 1991” with you all.Enjoy and always remember to take every opportunity to show love to your loved ones.Life is a fleeting breath at best, and we never know when that life could be extinguished.As Morrissey says, “Sing your life!” After many years of repression on my part, I am finally singing mine.
9am: It’s Saturday morning and my Grandmama is peeking into my bedroom to see if I’m “awake yet.”Like most seventeen year-olds, Saturday mornings are a cherished commodity for me filled with sleep, sleep, and more sleep.I stir when I hear my bedroom door squeak open and see her smiling face through the crack.She says, “I’m sorry, honey.I didn’t mean to wake you, but I thought maybe you’d like to go with me to the pharmacy.I need to pick up a few things.Would you mind going with me?”At first, I’m a bit grumpy for being awakened so early on the weekend, but I quickly shelve my selfish feelings and reply, “Sure, Grandmama.I’d be happy to go with you.”
9:45am:I’m in the bathroom preparing for a hot, steamy, wake-up shower and Grandmama is standing post outside the bathroom door, patiently waiting for me to hand over my undergarments for the wash.What you must first understand is that my sweet Grandmama is an ‘A’ personality type.She consistently sticks to her routine and refuses to allow any dirty clothes or dishes to amass, not that they even possibly could.Naturally, this personality quirk often bugs me, but I soon adapt and realize it is simply her way of showing love and affection.Without any request on my part, she faithfully cooks my dinner each evening, packs my lunch each morning, and bakes homemade treats for me and so many others.She is deeply loved and cherished by numerous people, and I am no exception.
10:30am:I’m dressed and ready to make the trek to the pharmacy with Grandmama.Given her age and increasing frailty, I kindly offer to drive and open the passenger door for her.One of the inherent beauties of her small town is that you can virtually get anywhere within five minutes.There is no rush hour traffic, no honking horns, and only one fast food restaurant to visit.When I first came to live with her from the hustle and bustle of Atlanta, I wasn’t sure I’d adapt too well to this environmental culture shock, but I did.Not only did I adapt well, but, I went on to college the following year to Mississippi State University because I fell in love with the sincerity and goodness of the people there.I stayed for three years until I transferred to a school back in Georgia that was better suited for English majors.I realize that transferring to a school back home was a necessary evil to continue my education, however, I never lost the love and zeal for Mississippi.Even to this day, twenty years later, I still yearn to return there.I hope that someday, when the need to be in a metropolitan, job-intensive city isn’t required, I will move back there.If home is where your heart is, my home is there.
10:40am:Grandmama and I arrive at the pharmacy and make our way inside.Naturally, it’s fairly busy being a Saturday morning, and Grandmama quickly spots and greets many familiar faces.That’s another interesting aspect of a small town.It isn’t easy to disappear or blend in there.Given that Grandmama has lived her entire life in this rural town, she knows virtually everyone.An innocent, twenty-minute trip to the pharmacy always results in a two-hour outing for her, which is fine by me.We agree to split up briefly in search of our own personal items, and meet up twenty minutes later at the checkout counter.
11am:Grandmama and I reconvene with our toiletries in hand near the front register.Feeling the need to wear my “Instigator” hat as I often do, I decide to pull a prank on her.She briefly meanders off to talk to a friend, and while she’s away, I quietly slip an economy-sized pack of condoms into her buggy.I prepare myself for the cackling (on my part) that will soon emerge, carefully constructing a mental picture of her face when she discovers this foreign item.After ten minutes, she returns to her buggy, with me standing beside it.There are at least five people in front of us in line, and naturally, they all begin talking to one another as they are waiting.I hold my breath silently, knowing it’s only a matter of time until another person spots what is in Grandmama’s buggy.And then, just like the beginning of a beautiful opera, I notice the lady in front of us peering down into Grandmama’s buggy, completely stunned when she sees the pack of condoms.The lady swiftly retreats in disbelief and abject horror, and my Grandmama says to me, “Huh, that’s weird.She is usually so friendly.I hope everything is okay with her.”I sheepishly agree and reassure her that I’m sure she is fine, but most likely needs to get home to tend to her husband and children.Grandmama shrugs in agreement and makes her way to unload her items on the counter.
As she’s stacking the items side by side, she picks up the box of condoms and stares blankly at them.I watch in amusement, realizing that she’s having trouble discerning what the item actually is.After a few minutes, the light blub turns on at a full 1,000 watts, and she looks at me.She says, “How in the world did these get in here?Are these what I think they are?”Keep in mind, readers, that my Grandmama became a widow nearly eleven years prior and certainly didn’t seek a replacement for my amazing Grandfather.Given this, condoms are the last thing she would readily recognize, let alone purchase.I pause for a moment and respond, “Oh yeah, those are mine.I really need them.You don’t mind, do you?”At first, she is puzzled and perplexed by my question, having been completely taken off guard.She quickly replies, “Oh, good heavens, Mozzie.I know you are kidding with me.Aren’t you?”I successfully maintain a serious façade and tell her, “What’s the matter?I need them.At least I’m being safe, right?”She quickly arms herself with the ‘I’m gonna call your Mother’ expression, before I lose my composure and begin to laugh hysterically.She is instantly relieved, knowing that I’ve once again succeeded in pulling her leg, and she begins to chuckle in return.I pick up the box of condoms, place them back on the rack, and help her bag her items.On our way back to the car, I cannot resist the urge to hug her.As I open the passenger door for her, I quickly grab her and shower her with affection.As always, she reciprocates, as she is never first to let go of a hug.I adore her for this, and still do.
So, precious Grandmama, Happy 90th Birthday to you.I wish I were there to celebrate with you, but my heart and soul are with you always.Thank you for your kindness, your love, and your unfailing support.You have selflessly contributed to the person I am today, and I am so grateful to you for it.If, by some struck of luck or fortune, I happen to live to see my 90th year, I can only hope that I will have made such an impact on others as you have.There could not possibly be any greater accomplishment.
A man and woman had been married for more than 60 years. They had shared everything. They had talked about everything. They had kept no secrets from each other except that the little old woman had a shoebox in the top of her closet that she had cautioned her husband never to open or ask her about.
For all of these years, he had never thought about the box, but one day the little old woman got very sick and the doctor said she would not recover. In trying to sort out their affairs, the little old man took down the shoebox and took it to his wife’s bedside. She agreed that it was time that he should know what was in the box. When he opened it, he found two crocheted dolls and a stack of money totaling $95,000. He asked her about the contents.
“When we were to be married,” she said, “my grandmother told me the secret of a happy marriage was to never argue. She told me that if I ever got angry with you, I should just keep quiet and crochet a doll.”
The little old man was so moved; he had to fight back tears. Only two precious dolls were in the box. She had only been angry with him two times in all those years of living and loving. He almost burst with happiness. “Honey,” he said, “that explains the doll, but what about all of this money? Where did it come from?”
“Oh,” she said, “that’s the money I made from selling the dolls.”
A cutie tells what she would do if a monster comes to her room. Mind you, she says “ASK!” Enjoy!
Find a guy who calls you ‘beautiful’ instead of ‘hot,’ who calls you back when you hang up on him, who will lie under the stars and listen to your heartbeat, or will stay awake just to watch you sleep. Wait for the boy who kisses your forehead, who wants to show you off to the world when you are in sweats, who holds your hand in front of his friends, and who thinks you’re just as pretty without makeup on. One who is constantly reminding you of how much he cares and how lucky he is to have YOU. The one who turns to his friends and says, ‘that’s her.’
– Unknown
Just a few of my favorite quotes from Ralph Waldo Emerson, US essayist & poet (1803-1882):
“Be not the slave of your own past. Plunge into the sublime seas, dive deep and swim far, so you shall come back with self-respect, with new power, with an advanced experience that shall explain and overlook the old.”
“The age of a woman doesn’t mean a thing. The best tunes are played on the oldest fiddles.”
“God enters by a private door into every individual.”
“Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind.”
“Whoso would be a man must be a nonconformist.”
I adore this scene from the movie, “As good as it gets”…
A note from Mozziestar: “New readers: Many of you have stumbled upon my blog mid-story and are confused as to the order of events. When you view the blog, the most current entries are on the main page. I always write the blog one day after events in my life unfold, so hopefully that will clear up any confusion. Please click on ‘Archives’ to begin with the first entry from September if you have just tuned in. Flashback entries are woven into the mix.”
* All poems included here were written by Mozziestar and are protected under copyright law.
My mind still plays with the silver memory of that evening;
I recall how the passionof your darkness
devoured my intellect
and with such precision,
your mouth delicately shaped each word
into a lasting impression. I remember trembling
as my soul overflowed with you,
and feeling warm as the sun
set on our shoulders.
—————————————-
I’m struggling to recall the precise moment that I fell in love with you,
and I’m not certain, but,
I think it was somewhere around the time
when you were fantasizing about her.
That makes sense.
—————————————-
Intimacy is such a devil’s game
of haves and have-nots;
Perhaps a more skillful player
would rely on instinct rather than judgment
to guide the course of one’s actions.
Truly, a devil’s game
with such a thin line drawn
between love
and hate.
—————————————-
Separate we comprise insanity,
but together,
we’d define perfection
if you would only open your eyes
and let us happen.
“When God leads you to the edge of a cliff, trust Him fully and let go. Only one of two things will happen: He’ll either catch you when you fall, or He’ll teach you how to fly. Oh, the power in one sentence! He will shift things around and let things work out in your favor. Life may close a door that no man can open, but God opens doors no man can close.”
3pm:I have two tickets to see one of my favorite bands, Apoptygma Berzerk, that evening but am without a date.I’m in the process of divorcing my cheating husband #1, so my original plan of the two of us going to the concert together is now completely out of the question.Scrambling around at the last minute, I decide to call in a big favor and phone my older brother to see if he’s feeling graciously dangerous.After pleading with him for a bit, he decides to ‘show me the love’ and agrees to accompany me to the concert.In order to understand this magnificent feat, I’ll relay some background information.My older brother is very conservative and colors within the lines.We are on opposite poles of the personality spectrum, but both have a love for music coursing through our veins.Naturally, my taste in music is anything but popular with most and his is more traditionally safe.Realizing this, I know what an extraordinary act of kindness he is bestowing upon me by agreeing to see Apoptygma Berzerk (APB) that evening.APB is a cutting-edge, electronic band with thoughtful lyrics.They tend to attract fans that keep step to the beat of a different drummer.I am one of those people, in case you are just tuning in.
6pm:I arrive at my brother’s house to begin our trip downtown for an evening I’ve been anticipating for months.My brother greets me at the door, decked in his Izod shirt and khackis, sighs, and rolls his eyes at my attire.To quote Depeche Mode, “She’s dressed in black again and I’m falling down again. But, oh what can you do when she’s dressed in black?”My sis-in-law, a sweet and loveable wife and mother, chuckles before bidding us farewell.My brother says, “Great.We’re off to see Tigger goes berzerk.”I playfully punch him in the arm and issue a ‘hardee harr harr.’
6:45pm:We arrive at the concert venue, The Masquerade, and stand in line with the other oddballs as we wait for the doors to open.I tend to blend in among this crowd, but my sweet brother stands out like a sore thumb.He begins to fidget uncomfortably and says, “I’m gonna get killed here tonight, aren’t I?”I laugh in response and say, “Well, I might have given some thought to the khakis, but I think you will manage just fine.”
7:15pm:We make our way inside and begin to navigate our path to the concert hall.If you’ve never been to The Masquerade, there are three levels: Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory.Heaven is the concert hall, Purgatory is the dancing floor, and Hell is the bar.Talk about pure marketing genius!They should have hired me, though I couldn’t have done a more bang-up job myself.We decide to find a table and relax while the opening act warms up to perform.My brother is squirming in his seat and says, “Um, yeah.I’m gonna go get a pitcher of beer, ok?”I smile and nod in return, silently ingesting the glorious atmosphere engulfing me.
9:15pm:Two hours have elapsed and my brother has successfully consumed three pitchers of beer.I have no problem with this, realizing that everyone needs to let loose every once in awhile, and realize that his ‘buzz’ will make the concert tolerable, at the very least.APB takes the stage in a blaze of glory and I am moved to my feet, dancing and twirling in a dazy haze of smoke and incense.My brother is nursing a beer, laughs quietly at me, but seems happy to see me enjoying myself after so many months of navigating stormy seas.
10:30pm:APB takes a brief intermission to allow us to catch our breath before the second set.I sit down next to my brother and take a swig of icy cold Bass Ale.As we are talking, a beautiful girl approaches our table.She looks at me and says, “Hi.I just wanted to tell you that you have the most beautiful face, truly.What kind of makeup do you use?” I am touched by her kindness and we begin to chat, while my brother makes his way back to the bar for a refill.While he’s away, she and I hit it off and she asks if maybe we can hang out sometimes.When my brother returns, she briefly steps away to reconvene with her friends, and he has a concerned and perplexed look on his face.I look at him and say, “What’s wrong?You ok?”He responds, “Geez, Mozzie, that girl is totally hitting on you.”I cackle in disbelief and assure him that he is mistaken, but he continues to try and convince me.I say, “Well, there’s only one way to find out.I will ask her.”My sweet older brother, a true pacifist by nature, looks like he’s in the first stage of cardiac arrest.I motion for the pretty girl to come back to our table and she quickly returns without hesitation.I say, “Hey, can I ask you something?”She graciously nods in agreement and says, “Well, of course!”I take a deep breath and respond, “Are you gay?I tend to be oblivious to these things, so I just thought I’d ask.”Lord, have mercy…my brother is about to launch out of his seat in embarrassment and fear at my boldness and direct line of questioning.The girl grins sheepishly and says, “Yes, I am.Aren’t you?”I politely smile and respond, “No, hun.I’m not.Sorry.”She purses her lips and says, “Hmm…my loss.”
12:30pm:We make our way out to the car to begin the trek back home to surburbia.My brother is relatively silent, leaving me to bask in the afterglow of my evening with APB.I will never forget this night or this concert.My brother walked on the razor’s edge, a pretty girl attempted to boldly go where no girl has gone before, and I made a lasting memory.Not a bad way to spend an evening.
“Music is the art which is most nigh to tears and memory.”
~ Oscar Wilde
“Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.”
Yesterday was a busy and emotionally draining day, but, I took a big step forward in the quest to reclaim my life.My legal counsel says that given the circumstances of my case and my ‘bad’ husband, the process should be simpler and more expeditious than most.Despite the approaching calamity, I do take comfort in that.Thankfully, I have a sturdy umbrella of family and friends who support me in riding out the storm.
This morning, I paid a visit to my former office to sign several documents releasing my whopping two-week severance package.The office had an eerie silence and is nearly vacant now, having laid off the majority of the people who were doing all the work.After my obligatory meeting with HR, I begin to make my way down the hallway to the exit.Predictably as ever, ‘Deer in headlights’ spots me and runs up to throw her unwelcomed hug around my shoulders.She says, “OMG.It’s SOOO good to see you!You have no idea how much we all miss you.How’s it going?Good?”I manage to repress my utter disgust with her false concern and politely respond, “Things are good.I am hanging in there, thanks.” She stares at me, obviously dazed and confused, expecting me to share my sob story and personal tragedy with her.I am a private person by nature, yet despite this, I would never give her the pleasure of knowing any personal details of my life.Even if I did tell her, she would require Cliffs Notes to decipher the meaning.
Almost to a clear getaway, ‘Old Mother Hubbard’ sees me in the hallway and rushes up to greet me.I almost don’t recognize her at first glance.In my absence, she has undergone an extreme makeover and looks fantastic.I hug her and compliment her on her newly transformed look, and she smiles from ear to ear.Bless her heart.In her case, the lights are on, but no one’s home.Despite this, she is a kind-hearted woman and with the help of a beautician, is now ‘Sixty and Smokin’ too.
Before departing, I peek into ‘Mack the Knife’s’ office for a surprise visit.He is naturally happy to see me, as he is now left alone to navigate the shark-invested office waters.We talk for a bit and he tells me, “Boy, do I have some stories to tell you.Maybe we can meet for lunch next week?”I graciously accept his invitation and tell him that I will be certain to bring my notepad and pen to gather writing material.Thankfully, I am not part of that office environment anymore, however, I do keep in contact with the few there who are genuine comrades.As Morrissey says, “Hold on to your friends.”
As I make my way to the elevator and say goodbye to my pregnant ex-coworker, ‘The Stomping Bean’ passes us in the corridor.He has an annoyed look on his face, most likely due to my presence there, but says hello before he enters the men’s restroom.I sigh at his blatant disrespect and predictable lack of concern on my behalf.As I walk out to my car and into the parking lot, a particular Morrissey song springs to mind, ‘We hate it when our friends become successful.’So, on that note, I will leave you with Mozziestar’s slightly tweaked lyrical version of this classic song.The video posted at the end of this entry is the actual song by Morrissey.
‘We hate it when our friends become successful’ (lyrics by Mozziestar)
”We hate it when our friends become successful.
Oh, look her clothes,
Now look at her face, it’s so old,
And such a crummy blog,
Well, it’s really laughable,
Ah hahahaha…
We hate it when our friends become successful,
And if she’s southern,
That makes it even worse now.
If we can destroy her,
You bet your life we will destroy her.
If we can hurt her, well, we may as well.
It’s really laughable,
Ah hahahaha…
They say, ‘it should have been me,
It could have been me.
Everybody knows, everybody says so.’
They say, ‘Oh, she has loads of talent,
So much talent,
More talent than we can stand.
A note from Mozziestar: “New readers: Many of you have stumbled upon my blog mid-story and are confused as to the order of events. When you view the blog, the most current entries are on the main page. I always write the blog one day after events in my life unfold, so hopefully that will clear up any confusion. Please click on ‘Archives’ to begin with the first entry from September if you have just tuned in. Flashback entries are woven into the mix.”
Today, I received an email from my 11th grade AP English teacher that I mentioned in the entry “Time stands still.” I’ve posted the link to that entry below, in case you may have missed it. Her email response is listed below the link.
“My goodness, Mozzie! I am in tears as I read your fabulous writing. I am glad that I waited until today to read your blog. I needed to be uplifted – You saved my soul today.
On Saturday evening, the husband’s youngest son (11 years young), phones him after six months of successfully avoiding his father.The husband is stunned, as his last conversation with his son amounted to his son not wanting him in his life anymore.His son is terribly bright, knowing that his dad is a worthless father and that he will never measure up to what a father should be.Nevertheless, he’s still a young boy and believes in the goodness of hope.I believe in it too.As Tim Robbins’ character says in the movie ‘The Shawshank Redemption,’ “Hope is a good thing, perhaps the best of things, and a good thing never dies.”I couldn’t agree more.
After talking a whopping ten minutes to his son, the husband promises him he will call him again tomorrow and arrange a time for them to see each other on Monday.Later that evening, his son phones my cell and tells me how much he misses me.He says, “I really wish I could see you too.You are so nice.You’re like the father I’ve never had.” I am touched, but know I am not a replacement for an absent father, nor should I be.I tell him how sweet he is and that I am always thinking of him.He chuckles an innocent, childish laugh and says, “I love you” before hanging up.
Sunday arrives and the husband has been sleeping all day in his recliner.I try to remain uninvolved in these matters, but I’m silently stewing knowing that the day is drawing to an end and the husband has yet to honor his promise to his son.I kick the footrest on his recliner, waking him, and tell him to call his son.He says, “Oh, thanks babe.I almost forgot.”I think to myself, ‘Yep.Naturally and as predictably as ever.’
The husband tells his son that he will come and take him fishing at 10am on Monday morning and that they can spend the afternoon together.Obviously, the little fella is excited at the notion of spending time with his dad and graciously accepts.Monday morning arrives and I trot downstairs at 9:45 to find the husband on Mapquest trying to find directions to his ex-wife’s home.I am infuriated that he’s procrastinated and now will be late to see his son, after making such a heartfelt promise to be there by 10am.Realizing that he is a dumbass and incapable of deciphering exact directions, the husband phones his ex-wife and says, “Uh, damn.Ya’ll sure do live far away. Can you tell me how to get there?”Naturally, she is livid.Once again, the husband has sloughed off and broken another promise.I hear her voice gradually amplifying on the phone, while the husband tries to make excuses and shift the blame to her.After a few minutes, she tells him to get his ass in gear and come see his son.The husband shuffles out the front door, grumbling and issuing threats to her, and is on his backwards way.
Several minutes pass and his ex-wife phones me.In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not like most women or wives.I’m not petty, I don’t place blame where it doesn’t belong, and I listen to all sides.She and I have always gotten along because she knows I’m a good person and want only the best for her and her son.She sees that in me and respects me for it.I respect her for raising her son with little or no help from anyone else.She deserves kudos for that.I recommend to her that she steer clear of the husband as he is always looking for a scapegoat for his own failures and shortcomings.She agrees and thanks me for being such a good person and for understanding.I tell her I understand perfectly and always have.We politely say goodbye, but before she hangs up, she says, “You know, Mozzie.I always keep you in my prayers.There’s a special place in heaven for people like you.”I thank her for her kind words and respond, “Well, I believe there’s a place in heaven for everyone.It’s just a matter of living up to it and not losing sight of your seat.”
So, what’s the moral of the story?Always treat others the way you want to be treated.In giving love, kindness, and respect, you shall also receive.
And just to answer the burning question that so many of you have, yes, I am working steadily on removing the husband from my life. I am pursuing all avenues and exhausting all resources. Hopefully, this effort will be fulfilled sooner than later. I will keep you posted…pinky swear. 😉
The "Bad Husband" Chronicles 
