Friday, August 31, 2012

4. NOT SURE WHERE THE BOTTOM IS

The abject heartache, the depression that moved in and settled over my consciousness, the self condemnation together were enough to make me consider takng a long walk into the lake, and since I never learned to swim, I felt this would be an effective way to end all of these ongoing troubles.

At one point, I woke up, not knowing where I was. My tongue was throbbing in pain. I had nearly bitten off the end of it. It was blackened and I could barely speak. I found I had emptied my bladder all over myself. Worse than that, I knew

Thursday, August 30, 2012

3. The Real Estate Agent Visits

Remember how the smarmy auctioneer told me that this realtor friend of his specialized in short sales?
Well, actually, this realtor had HEARD of short sales but had never done them. But he knew a guy...
So after getting rid of this pushy fellow

2. WHAT HAPPENED NEXT?

Frankly, although I love writing, I admit that I do not enjoy drawing attention to myself, but only to what I write. So writing this particular blog is a special challenge for me, because I believe that without full disclosure and transparency, this would not be worth writing at all.
So what did happen next? You know, after the lawyer-free divorce?
First thing I did was go out and buy several pairs of very high heeled shoes.

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

1. Recently, I received this advice:

My girlfriend in Tennessee convinced me that there are people who would be interested in reading about the challenges I have been facing after finally 'coming of age.'
These current challenges actually began about seven years ago.
I had recently recovered about as much as the neurologists said I would, from having had neurosurgery to remove something almost the size of a tennis ball from directly behind the center of my forehead.
Christmas was approaching, and I really was not in any frame of mind to 'do it up' as we had in years past. I was actually trying to concentrate on my one-woman business of transcribing reports for a chiropractor and my part-time job at the local bookstore. A big celebration was not on my radar, and shopping was not going to happen since so much was still due on the hospital bills.
One December day around lunchtime, I was just finishing my tuna and peanut butter sandwich, noticing that toast crumbs were snowing down into my keyboard as I multi-tasked my way through a patient's insurance report, when my husband marched into my home office and sat.
"This is just not working out and I want a divorce. No lawyers, no argument, let's just do it as soon as possible," he commanded.

As best as I can recall, my sarcastic self rose up in a futile attempt at self-protection.