Category: sad times Page 1 of 3

A moment of honesty about my battle with suicidal thoughts

The news of Anthony Bourdain’s death really got to both me and Mike this morning. We spent some time, upon waking up to the news, lying in bed, feeling our feels, and processing it. That dude has a life that I would kill for — getting paid to travel the world and eat all the food! How could someone with a perfect life want to kill themselves? And then I realized that one could say the same about me…

The thought “I want to die” sometimes floats into my brain without me summoning it in any way. Just yesterday I sighed and thought “I just want to die” while I was walking from my bed to the bathroom.

Do I really want to die?

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Thoughts I’ve had lately as a privileged WASP with a new Jewish last name

It’s a strange time to have just become a Horowitz. In fact, it didn’t take very long, nor did we have to go very far for me to realize that, by taking a Jewish last name, I had stepped outside of my privileged WASPy box…

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#Stagpartyof1: I threw myself my own bachelor party alone

Whiskey tasting for one.

Whiskey tasting for one.

My fiancé had his bachelor party this weekend. It’s him and a dozen of his best friends going to Portland for the weekend. I knew I’d have major FOMO since that would be an absolute dream trip for me. But I also knew that my anxiety around forcing friends to spend money, and the fear that people will bail at the last-minute, means that I would never ask for my own big to-do. So my solution (which I thought was brilliant) was to ask my best friend to just babysit me this weekend — just hold my hand and help me work through the vicious FOMO, even if it means just the two of us drinking whiskey and watching Lord of the Rings. But he apparently forgot, and made lots of other plans this weekend. Which left me with an entire weekend wide open, with nothing to do and no one to do it with.

I’ll admit it, old “nerdy kid in high school with no social life” wounds have opened up, and I’m feeling shitty about myself. While Mike has tons of friends who have apparently orchestrated an epic weekend that involves vans being rented, outdoor adventures, surprises, hilarious hijinks, and some mysterious Game of Thrones-themed puzzles… I struggled to get anyone to hang out with me for the next couple of days.

At one point, while I was feeling sorry for myself, I thought FUCK IT, I’ll throw myself my own bachelor party alone. A stag party of one!

Yes, a bachelor party even though I’m a girl. That just feels more in line with my gender identity. Plus I’ve helped plan and execute two bachelor parties, so I knew a bit about what kind of things there were to do of that nature in LA, and I know exactly what I’d want to do for my own. So I kept a constant supply of anti-anxiety meds at my disposal, and planned my #stagpartyof1…

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The Divorce Fairy

October 10, 2015, would have been Aaron and my “10 years together/7 years married” anniversary. If my last round of “crying in frustration in the family law room of the Santa Monica courthouse” was successful, we’ll be officially divorced by the beginning of 2016 — a full year since we started this break-up process.

A couple months ago, my dad and I went to lunch and he asked me, “so what really did happen between you and Aaron. It seemed like you guys were doing fine, and then all-of-a-sudden you’re divorced. What went wrong?” For the first time ever — nearly 8 months after our split — I actually had an answer for that. Interestingly, it’s because of my new relationship with my boyfriend, that I finally understand what happened with my old relationship with that guy I married…

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The worst advice ever

sunset in kihei

My first sunset back on Maui.

I got some advice today that’s the worst kind: the kind where it sucks to hear, but you know is true.

The advice I got today: “You just have to ratchet down your expectations for the next few months.” I laughed the moment I heard those words, because I knew they were true. Gawdamnit, I knew it…

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The torturous healing of break up songs

unnamed

This broke my heart today: Jackson found one of each of our shoes and put them together in the doorway of the bedroom.

You know what one of the worst parts about this break-up is? It doesn’t have a song yet.

I need that one song that I can just listen to over and over and over again and cry to in the car. That song that lets me know I’m not alone in feeling this EXACT way. There’s something so torturously healing about it. Wallowing in your sads, knowing someone else has hurt like you, letting the pain wash over you, and then eventually washing away.

Usually I get a song right away. But that musical kismet hasn’t happened to me yet. So I started thinking about old breakup songs — every relationship I was in had one…

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Sometimes I forget

In this moment, I wasn’t thinking about it.

Sometimes I forget. Sometimes I’m editing a post, or watching a movie, or playing with the dogs, or talking to a friend, and I forget that Aaron left me. I forget my family died. I forget how miserable I am. I long for those moments. And yet, they’re moments that I don’t even get to appreciate until after they’re over. I can think “oh hey, that was a moment of [joy, or contentment, or ease]. That was nice.” Then my heart starts radiating a deep pain again, and I’m back in my misery.

Sometimes this doesn’t feel real. It feels like a nightmare, and that I’ll wake up any minute to find my life back to normal and my family back together. To find he’s right beside me in bed, and I can grab onto his arm, and feel the warmth of his body, and hear his voice consoling me, calling me Peanut, and telling me that it’s all okay.

And then sometimes it feels so real I can’t even breath. The truth of it hits me with such force, like a mule kicking me in the heart from the inside out, and it hurts so god damned much.

Sometimes it hurts less. Like when I went over to Jessica’s for Passover, or to the Easter party at Drew’s and got distracted. At first I didn’t think I’d allow myself to get distracted. I kept finding myself holding my breath, or doubling over in pain, or completely fucking spacing out. And then… it just happened. I actually let go, and had a good time for a while.

Sometimes Ken texts me to ask how I am, and my response is “I don’t know.” And that’s true. I have no idea how I am right now. Then I think about how Jessica told me that “it’s a process.” She’s STILL going through a divorce, so she knows. “It’s a process” has become my mantra. I keep repeating to myself over and over.

Sometimes I will feel okay, and then I won’t, and then I will, and then I won’t again. And so on and so forth until it gets easier and easier, and then one day I will actually be okay.

Cutting the invisible string

Remember a couple weeks ago, when life was really kicking me in the proverbial dick? You all know I lost a chance to buy my dream house. What you didn’t know is that the next day, due to miscommunication, I was basically uninvited to an event I had been looking forward to for months. AND I was also dealing with the WORST case of constipation I’ve ever had. My stomach hurt, my heart hurt, and my butt hurt, it sucked. But, as I was wallowing my constdepression, I decided that things were going to get better. I took a minute on Sunday to pull my head out of my sads, and made a deal with the interwebs to stay positive:

But the poop storm wasn’t over, because then our marriage shat the bed.

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Old man keeps house, Megan cries for days

Wah Waaaaaaaaah. :(

Wah Waaaaaaaaah. 🙁

Bad news: I didn’t get the house.
Good news: No one else was chosen over me.
Unpredictable news: The guy who lived in the house got last-minute mortgage help from the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs, so the bank stopped the short sale.

Of course I’m devastated. Everyone told me not to get my hopes up, and I told everyone “too fucking late.” I sobbed and sobbed yesterday. Then I awoke this morning feeling drained and depressed.

It feels like I got dumped by a boyfriend. Being in a longterm relationship for almost 10 years, I had forgotten this feeling… The tears, the questions, the feeling of general “unfairness,” and the fear that no other house will ever be as perfect for me. Then the calm of acceptance… and then the circle of grief again.

I know in my head that there, of course, will be a next house. But I just don’t know when. I could be tomorrow, but it could be in a year or more. But to go from happy excitement, with a future full of possibilities, to this emptiness is rough. My mind searches and searches for a thing to focus on, for a happy goal to work over as I pass the time, and, finding nothing, I go back to el depresso mode. It’s basically the mental version of my home search on Redfin.

If I focus on the good in this situation, I can still be proud that I saw something and attempted to go after it. I channeled my inner bad-ass, and accomplished everything I needed to, in order to have a chance at my dream. (I even finally changed my last name with the Social Security office, after six years of laziness.) For that I am proud of myself.

Christmas is canceled: A video-assisted guide to my feelz

So it’s official: Christmas is cancelled. Due to work reasons, Aaron and I aren’t able to make it to Texas to spend Christmas with our families. We’re bummed as all hell, my parents are broken hearted, and my sister has basically threatened to kick my ass… if she ever gets to see me again.

Let me tell you about the first (and LAST) time we had Christmas on our own…

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