Tag Archives: Me

I Am Still Around

1 May

I have not been kidnapped by aliens. I have not won the lottery and ran away to Paris-I’d still blog about that shit! But I have been sidelined. sigh.

Once I started strength training at physical therapy, my shoulder became inflamed. Like back-on-pain-meds inflamed. Vomiting-where-I-stand inflamed. Capiche? Horri-fucking-ble inflamed Enough with dashes.

So I made an appointment with my surgeon, and I have once again been taken off all activity until further notice. I’ve already been sidelined since last July, and now this??? This just put back my recovery for at least another month. Where I was looking forward to working late July or early August, I now have no idea when I will be better. I’m guessing PT will probably have to start pretty much over. AAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHH.

So what do I mean when I say all activity? No PT. No computer (this post is taking me forever to write on my phone, by the way. This is how much I love you.) No running, hiking, long walks. No rearranging my furniture. No Loverboy pushing me into a wall with my hands pinned above my head. No zombie 5k run/obstacle course. No laser tag. No bowling. No billiards. No swimming. Really, this list is extremely long. But you get the gist. I’m basically back on surgeon-imposed house arrest.

Loverboy, being the awesome person he is, has done his best to lift me out of my funk. I cried when the surgeon told me I had to stop doing things. I stayed in my house for two days, not taking phone calls, not communicating via Facebook. I’m not one to get depressed. I don’t think there is any point and purpose to it. Life punches, roll with it, adapt and overcome. But damn if I didn’t spiral into helplessness. And anyone who has been there, which is everyone at one time or another, knows the littlest things can make it worse. Loverboy had to cancel plans one night-oh Lordy, he wants to break up with me! My mom called to tell me my birthday present will be late-I knew my mom doesn’t love me! You know how it goes…

But I feel 99% better. In short, I’m just pissed at the setback.

Loverboy and I are still doing really well. He has recently starting opening up about his marriage, the helplessness and fear he felt following his divorce. His problems putting faith in people, even me. Yesterday, he talked for an hour straight. I just listened. I asked no questions, and offered no advice. When he was finished, I thanked him for telling his story. He gave me a better insight to him and his thought process.

Then, after that convo, we had one about M. M, you ask? Why would you talk about him?? Why indeed?

Because once again, he resurfaced. Mother-to-the-fucker.

I haven’t heard from this duchero for five or so weeks. Since a while before I actually wrote about it. Then the other day, while I was watching a Maury about cheating douchebags ironically enough, my phone chirps:
M: Are you still with old boy?
E: Are you still getting married?
M: LOL. Come over.

Fucking excuse me??

What followed in the next four hours was text after text of I miss yous and I need to hold yous and please just come see mes. I ignored a majority of the texts, only reiterating every so often that I wasn’t coming over.

My phone rang, and I saw M’s name on the screen. I almost ignored it, but I answered. Not nicely.

He told me everything he had been texting. Come over, I just want to lay with you, no sex, I just need this right now, etc etc etc. I told him that I will definitely not come over. That he needs to leave me alone before I contact his fiancée. That I no longer will jump when he calls. That he no longer is the one I will drop everything for.

M: Esme, please. I actually really need to talk to you. I have things I want to say.
E: So talk.
M: In person.
E: Then I will meet you at The Bar in an hour. I will give you thirty minutes.
M: No, at my house.
E: Do you think I’m on drugs? No way in fuck am I meeting you somewhere private.
M: I said no sex.
E: I wouldn’t put it past you to rape me.
M: Please.
E: NO!!

I told him again to leave me alone. That’s when my heart stopped-I heard the unmistakable sound of a car starting. When I stopped talking, M asked me if I was home. I told him no (I was). He said he didn’t believe me, and he was on his way. I told him no, then hung up the phone.

I called Loverboy in a panic. I think he could actually feel the fear in my voice. He told me to calm down, and go to his house for a little bit. So I did.

About a half hour later I got what I am hoping to be the last text ever. Fine. Goodbye.

What the hell happened here? Since when does the guy who claims he never chases, become a stalker? Why can’t he leave me the fuck alone? We tried dating twice. And both times he fucked it up. His loss is not my problem. Damn, did I dodge one hell of a bullet. And I got something so much better in return.

Needless to say, this recent turn of events has caused Loverboy to tell me that he worries about me. Worries that I will get taken advantage of (in more ways than one). That really made me wonder about my choice in past men. Yeah…I didn’t always make the best choices…

Love, Esme.

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Happy New Year!

1 Jan

I know I haven’t posted lately…I assure you all is well on the Loverboy front…I even had my first New Years kiss…sad since I’m in my thirties…and was married…but I digress…

I’m typing this on my phone since my laptop is on the fritz, so bear with me as long as you can. Fo realz. Yo. It’s hella good. (My auto correct is totally flipping its shit right now, and it’s making me laugh).

Loverboy and I are AWESOME. I have no complaints whatsoever. I went to his family Christmas with him, and it went well…despite his drunk mother. But I did talk to her before she was drunk, so I have a good idea that she is basically normal. But drunk she told Loverboy he needs to date someone with girls, because she wants granddaughters. She then asked me if I would be willing to have another kid. When I informed her there were no more babies coming out of this va-jay-jay, she rolled her eyes and said ‘Ugh, more boys’. She then took my hand and said, verbatim:

You know, Esme, you were prayed for.

Excuse me?

Apparently Loverboy’s mom has been waiting for him to date for so long, she began to pray. Guess she forgot to specify granddaughters…

As mom of the year was leaving, she hugged me and said that she so hopes, very much, that she sees me again. Loverboy heard this comment, and told his mom to stop making him sound desperate. I, for one of the few times in my life, was speechless.

Loverboy’s sis-in-law later told me that once she heard the pray comment, she ran downstairs where Loverboy and his bros were, yelling ‘Code Red! Code Red! Esme’s in trouble!’ That would be the moment family surrounded me en masse and deflected any more questions and/or comments from Drunky McDrunkerson. And it was very much appreciated!

New Years Eve came, and we decided it was time for the kids to meet. Yes, ladies, we took the biggest step I can think of at this point in time. KIDS! AAAHHHHHHH!!!!
I stressed about it all day, and there was no need to. Our kids got along famously. In fact, mine keep asking to see his again. At the strike of midnight, Loverboy let the kids throw confetti, in his house, which gave the perfect opportunity for him to kiss me. I can’t think of a more perfect way to celebrate ūüôā

With ups come downs, and this time it is in the form of Sunday. Its not even worth hashing out, but it is very pathetic that she is still talking shit about me after six months. Get a fucking life. I found out that she is testifying against me at my custody hearing…despite her divorce lawyers advising against it. When she confronted me about it, I informed her that it would be in her best interest to back down, as I will annihilate her. She said ‘whatever’. I smiled, and I am truly looking forward to fucking her shit up. On record. Which can affect her custody battle. BRING IT BITCH.

One down, a million goods. I truly ended 2011 on such an incredible high. Loverboy. Protection from the ex. My children by my side. I made fabulous friends…Jake, Seal. So many others. I learned a lot about myself in the process. I learned to let go of toxic relationships. I learned to say no. I learned that I’m a pretty fucking awesome chick, and Loverboy is damn lucky to have me.

To quote Barney Stinson:

image

I rock.

Love, Esme

My Blog…And I Need To Get It Out.

11 Dec

I’m sitting here in my cozy house, protected from the outside elements, and I finished a book that made me think. ¬†And made me panic.

It’s a book about a paramedic’s experiences. ¬†As medics, we all have stories that we think would make good books. ¬†We see the absolute best in people, and we also see the absolute worst. ¬†So bad, other people can’t imagine. ¬†And what do we get for our dedication and sacrifices? ¬†We get punched, vomited on, kicked, scratched, cussed at, and God only knows what else. ¬†I’ve been called a cunt, a whore, a fucking bitch. ¬†My kids lives have been threatened. ¬†I’ve been caught in the middle of gang cross-fire. ¬†I’ve almost been tased. ¬†I’ve missed out on holiday celebrations, school meetings, and first goals. ¬†And I loved almost every minute of it.

Almost.

There are those calls that haunt my memory. ¬†And I know I have mentioned them before. ¬†But that is what they do…they haunt me. ¬†I will forget for a long time, and then I will be assaulted by memories. ¬†Memories that can knock the breath out of me. ¬†Visions that can bring me to my knees. ¬†The smells, the screams, the terror on patients faces. ¬†It all comes back.

While certain visions will never fade…the details do. ¬†And that makes me panic.

I will never forget the brain matter oozing out of the fracture in the skull.  Or the two shoes laying on the pavement over 50 feet away.  The way the neck swelled, inhibiting any chance I have of getting a viable airway.  The arm that was shattered.  The femur fracture.  The slight movement of the head when the brain stem said it was time to try to breathe.  The rhythm on the monitor that told me this poor patient was still alive, still feeling, still fighting to live.  The absolute despair I felt knowing the patient was dying a very slow, very painful death.

And there wasn’t shit I could do about it, but remember his/her name. ¬†Remember he/she was a person that may have had a great life. ¬†To remember him/her so I could remember I did everything I could.

And I was forgetting his/her damn name!

I had to remember…if the name went completely into the recesses of my brain, I would never get it back. ¬†And I need to think of him/her every once in a while. ¬†Because maybe no one else does. ¬†I was the last person my patient saw. ¬†Maybe he/she looked at me as his/her last hope in the world, and I let him/her down.

I was frantic…I pulled out old newspaper clippings and subpoenas. ¬†I was rocking back and forth in my office, muttering to myself. ¬†I sounded, and looked, crazy. ¬†But I had to find it. ¬†I had to remember. ¬†Someone needs to remember this person.

I found it, and I sighed with relief. ¬†I stared at the name for a long time, going over every second of the call that was slipping from my memory. ¬†I remembered some things I had forgotten about, and it honestly made me feel better. ¬†I did do everything I could. ¬†I pulled out all the stops, threw every ounce of ammunition I had at my disposal. ¬†The patient was never going to make it, and I knew it from the second I arrived on scene. ¬†So why did this one haunt me? ¬†I’ve seen hundreds of deaths, of people dying. ¬†If it can happen, there is a good chance I have seen it. ¬†So why this one?

Because before the eyes closed one last time, the patient looked at me.  No, not even at me, but into me.  And all I could do was look back.

Those are the times I get haunted. ¬†When I am the last thing anyone sees in this world. ¬†I have to believe that we cross over, that our souls go somewhere else. ¬†It is not an option for me to believe once we leave here, that’s it. ¬†Something else needs to be waiting for them, and for us.

I know someday, I will forget the name altogether. ¬†And maybe then, it won’t matter if I do. ¬†But right now, it matters greatly. ¬†Because there are so many times I am left with just the visions, and it sucks. ¬†I hate not being able to complete the whole memory. ¬†So many times I never got a name.

An 18-month old whose parents poisoned him, and all I can do is hold him as he seized for his last few minutes on earth. ¬†The mother whose screams grew louder the closer I walked to her, because she knew I was going to tell her that her adult child had committed suicide. ¬†The desperation on a patient’s face whose husband has beat her. ¬†The terror that was visible on a 12 year-old face when she saw my male partner walk into the room. ¬†The way a three year-old ran up to me and held on for dear life, and would not let go. ¬†The fear in my partner’s face when we were held at gun point. ¬†The look on an addict’s face when they take too much and they overdose. ¬†The reactions of new parents when their baby isn’t breathing. ¬†The reaction of my partner when a baby isn’t breathing. ¬†The grinding of bone when a two-year old hit by a car gets thrown in my arms, and I caught him by his fractured femur.

I have good visions, too.

A mother’s face when I hand her¬†a new baby. ¬†The relief when I yell out ‘I have a rhythm!’. ¬†The joy when people realize their loved one is OK.

The bad far outweighs the good.

And we deal with it.  We are not trained, for it, but we deal with it.  And sometimes, we deal with it very, very crassly.

I laugh at things I should never laugh at. ¬†I joke about things that should never be joked about. ¬†And every single person does it in my position. ¬†If you are ever privy to this side of me, don’t judge. ¬†I do it so I can continue to help everyone else.

But I also remember everything I can.  Because everyone deserves to have someone remember them.

Love, Esme

I Hate These Thoughts…

4 Dec

OK, it is that time of relationship again…time for Esme’s ramblings. ¬†And, of course, this comes in light of something happening with the ex-husband.

My ex managed to fork over a fuckton of money for a new lawyer. ¬†Yes, his parents hate me oh so much that I am sure they plopped down five figures to fight little ol’ me. ¬†The date of my protective order hearing has been moved up to this week, and I am frantically working on my defense (I just needed a break! ¬†Lawyer jargon has me cross-eyed!)

I told Loverboy a very small amount of what happened. ¬†Just that the ex got a lawyer and moved up the case. ¬†His response was He’ll need ten lawyers if he is going to beat you! ¬†Sweet sentiment. ¬†But I am really starting to wonder what I may have gotten Loverboy into. ¬†And if it is fair.

My ex has run off a fair share of my dates. ¬†In all honesty, there was never anyone worth continuing to date. ¬†So as much as my ex has irritated me in that regard, it hasn’t royally pissed me off. ¬†But this time, it WILL if it happens.

I haven’t been very forthcoming about my abusive marriage, which I have stated before. ¬†Loverboy knows he was not nice, but that is the extent of it. ¬†He hasn’t asked, and I have not offered. ¬†A majority of the reason I have not is because I haven’t wanted to scare him or run him off. ¬†Because as much of a problem I have had with the ex during my marriage, post-marriage has been a lot worse. ¬†Harassment, veiled threats of violence, threatening to hide the kids…it’s all just bad. ¬†These days it takes a lot for the ex to make me crazy. ¬†It takes a lot for him to piss me off to the point where I see red. ¬†It just takes a lot to get me riled where he is concerned. ¬†Which is good and bad…good I am finally becoming accustomed to it, and bad for the same reason. ¬†So when it comes to sharing, I just don’t feel the need to because I don’t often let it affect me. ¬†But the problem is-when it does, it does badly. ¬†And it is noticed by everyone. ¬†I just don’t want to have to warn him of that possibility.

I also hesitate to share because this is my problem, not his.  I am the one that made the regrettable decision to marry him.  I am the one that has had to deal with the fall-out.  I am the one that has this cross to bear, so to speak.  And I am afraid to share that burden.  It is such a heavy burden.  I feel like it would be really unfair to make him take that on.

What guy would actually knowingly stick around with all of this drama surrounding me? ¬†Honestly, I think it would be safer for him to turn and run. ¬†I HATE drama. ¬†I try very hard to get it out of my life…no more Sunday, the order of protection so I don’t have to deal with the ex, etc. ¬†I kick drama to the curb just like I do trash on Monday. ¬†But the ex keeps bringing it back. ¬†Keeps depositing it on my doorstep. ¬†And I just can’t completely get rid of it because of this damn judicial system!!

So I am scared. ¬†I’m scared one day I will share and Loverboy will tell me it’s just too much to handle. ¬†I’m scared to not share in case he is upset that I didn’t trust in him enough. ¬†I’m scared that the ex will find out about Loverboy and cause so much havoc that Loverboy will have no choice but to walk away from me. ¬†I’m scared that I am pulling him into this never-ending web of lies, deceit, abuse and unknown. ¬†I don’t feel like it is fair. ¬†But I also don’t feel like life is being fair to me! ¬†I meet this great guy, who wants to get to know me, who wants to be around me, and fucking drama in the form of my ex starts pulling shit again.

I am really trying to not let life cause any problems with this. ¬†When I see Loverboy, I try to forget about the drama, about the bad. ¬†I focus on him, on us. ¬†I smile, I laugh, and I try to be in the here and now. ¬†And I need that. ¬†But at the end of the day, I can’t help but feeling like I am being unfair to him.

He wants to go with me to my OP hearing, and I said no.  The last thing I want is for him to listen to my ex-in-laws badmouth me for three hours.

Am I being unfair? ¬†Is it right for me to date Loverboy knowing what I am going to be facing for the forseeable future? ¬†What if I really like him? ¬†The ex and I have not been an item for SO LONG…why can’t he just leave me alone? ¬†WHEN IS IT MY FUCKING TURN FOR SOME EASY-BREEZY??

Love, Esme

A Daily Struggle

14 Nov

There are days I really struggle with some things.  Lately this is the thought I was worried about:

I feel like I will be forever paying for the mistake I made marrying my ex.

Wow, that was kind of hard to type!

I don’t regret things in my life. ¬†A lot of the bad things have wound up bringing me a lot of good. ¬†For example? ¬†I have two amazing boys. ¬†I learned to stand up for myself (again). ¬†I learned how to overcome oh so many obstacles. ¬†I can now laugh at myself and at my world. ¬†I don’t sacrifice who I am anymore. ¬†I try hard to let go of the negativity in my life, whether they are people or things.

But I have also learned:

When someone asks about my marriage, or why I am divorced, they don’t like my truth. ¬†Most run. ¬†Most don’t like the fact that I am independent. ¬†Most want you to need them, and I just don’t. ¬†(Want vs. Need. ¬†I don’t need, but I would like.) ¬†Most don’t like that I am unwilling to change or concede certain things.

Because I found myself in such an extreme with the ex, I loathe to do anything that may remotely resemble anything that makes me feel like I am going back there again.  Sometimes I over-react, and sometimes I am spot-on.  I would rather over-react then go back to where I was.

But back to my original thought.  I do worry about that.  Did I have my one shot at happy-ever-after, and I just messed it up by choosing the wrong man?  Do women get second chances when it comes to love?  Is love and marriage a one-time deal?  Does a man exist who can deal with me, my quirks, and my past?

Did I just seriously fuck up my life by a decision I made at the age of 21?

I like to think not, but my experiences with men continually prove me wrong…

Love, Esme

I. Love. Sports.

23 Oct

 

 

 

I love sports. ¬†I really do. ¬†I probably should be a dude in that respect. ¬†I’ve had guys stop dating me because I corrected their incorrect sports stats. ¬†Pussies. ¬†I’ve had guys get mad because I want to go watch Da Bears play on Sundays at our local sports bar. ¬†Pussiesx2. ¬†M once told me that I would never find a guy who would put up with my sports fanaticism. ¬†Pussyx100. ¬†I’m not saying someone needs to be as in love with sports as I am (even though it would be nice), but they do need to appreciate the fact that my day and/or night may revolve around my team being in the World Series. ¬†Or the fact my team may be working for Lord Stanley’s favor. ¬†Or anytime the great franchise that was once ruled by the great Ditka ¬†is on TV. ¬†(Ditka versus a hurricane…who would win??)

These guys just need to learn how to DEAL.

Favorite Kings player EVER-Kelly Hrudey.  Uh-May-Zing.

It’s Rally Squirrel time!!

Daaaaaaa Bears Da Bears Da Bearsssssssss.I am IN LOVE with my Blackhawks. ¬†Just…in love. ¬†Hey look…I do have the capacity to love!! ¬†And I don’t even have a ‘Hawks jersey…I need to rectify that one!

Much love, Esme.

 

Music+Memories=Not Always A Good Time

20 Sep

This week hasn’t been a great one. ¬†And the awesomeness of it was cumulated yesterday when I found out the my surgery has been postponed. ¬†The surgery that took weeks to schedule. ¬†Why was it postponed? ¬†Because workman’s comp failed miserably at doing their job. ¬†Absolutely fucking miserably. ¬†Apparently there was particular paperwork to be filed, and my original adjuster dropped the ball. ¬†So while she is being investigated, they have to re-investigate my claim. ¬†So basically it has to start all over. ¬†Fucking phenomenally awesome. ¬†Am I the only one this shit happens to? ¬†I just want to go back to work!!!!!

Now back to my originally scheduled post.

I am one of those people who puts music to memories. ¬†I doubt I am the only one out there who does. ¬†Music can make me feel happy, sad, enraged, content. ¬†A certain song can open an absolute floodgate of memories and emotions. ¬†Some are welcome, some are not. ¬†A lot of time I will associate a memory with what is playing on my iPod when a particular event happens. ¬†Sometimes a hear a song and I could have written it word for word based on an event that happened. ¬†Sometimes there is no good reason as to why a song reminds me of something that has happened. ¬†And I seem to like the word ‘happened’ today.

I was listening to my iPod when this song played:

I’ve posted this song in the past. ¬†It reminds me word for word of M. ¬†I cried for the first time over him in weeks. ¬†And I think I needed it. ¬†I have been asked out on a number of dates recently, and I have turned all of them down. ¬†M still occupies too much of my heart. ¬†I know that if I do date someone right now, I won’t give the date a fair shot. ¬†I’ll just keep enjoying my Medic time thankyouverymuch.

The only other guy I ever cried over was Perfect.  We had a tumultuous relationship, which you can read about by clicking his tag.  The feelings I had in that relationship were exponentially worse than they should have been, given the fact it was the first relationship after my divorce.  I listened to this song to make me feel better:

But soon after, I was listening to this one:

When I finally am lucky enough to meet my Mr. Right, this is the song that will have to be sung to him (not by me, as I am a horrific singer.  But by someone else for me):

This next one I dedicate to my ex-husband. ¬†If it weren’t for all of the shit he put me through, I wouldn’t be the person I am today:

This song reminds me of my grandmother:

I dedicate this song to all of the men that have dicked me over-LOVE IT.  Listen to the words, and you will see why:

Every time I hear this song it gets me in the mood for a little bit of Medic:

I fell in love with this song after watching Ladder 49 (which almost made me quit the academy!). ¬†When I had to fill out the department ‘In case you die in the line of duty’ paperwork, I only had two requests: an all female honor guard and this song. ¬†This song reminds me of the sacrifice of those before me (personally and professionally). ¬†And it gives me solace that I am being watched over:

There are so many songs, so many memories.  I leave you with just one more.  So often I am told by well-meaning friends that if I just change a little I would have better luck with dating.  What they fail to realize is this-the last time I compromised myself, I wound up in an abusive marriage.  I will never again change anything.  I will never hide anything.  I very much love who I am.  I am perfect:

Much love,

Esme