Posts Tagged: Divorce

Anxiety

The Impostor

Where I am, currently.

I've given a few talks over the years - at conferences and such. I know how to do it by now; I've (mostly) gotten over my stage fright, and have a bit of a formula going.

I start with the basic bio, make a few self-deprecating jokes about The Actress Years, and talk about what it was like starting a blog-as-business back in the Dark Ages. I tick off a list of experiences that my site has led to - shows, books, etc. It all makes me sound pretty successful, and pretty together, and at least passably like the kind of person who should be giving A Talk.

DIARY

Did It

I am fairly certain that I lived several lifetimes in the past twenty-four hours. I'm writing this from my living room floor, sitting on a sleeping bag and using an empty cable box as a desk. I just slayed a spider the size of a walnut, and am drinking tap water out of an empty CVS earplug container, because I forgot to bring cups and there is no way I am driving over to Target until I return that damn trailer, because backing up a trailer in a Target parking lot sounds like a bad idea for anyone, and especially someone who just drove seven hours with two furious cats and a comatose dog, and then "slept" (didn't sleep) on a bed-in-a-box mattress on the floor.

Solid parking form.

Anxiety

Pieces Of My Life

Skirt | Shoes | Blouse | Sunglasses

Yesterday afternoon, I sat in my lawyer's office with a huge stack of papers in front of me. I signed, flipped. Signed again. Flipped again. I did this until I'd reached the bottom of the stack, then handed them over, and all of a sudden it hit me:

Wait. I asked her. Was that the thing that people in movies are always refusing to sign and crying about? And usually the person crying and not wanting to sign but signing anyway is played by Diane Keaton?

Anxiety

Wide Open Spaces

A few days ago I asked you guys for reader questions over on IG and...ahhh...let's just say there was a theme. Some of the questions (where are you going to live? Where's K going to live? How are you all handling the separation?) I simply can't answer now, either because I don't know what the answers are, or because they're just too sensitive to touch.

Something that's been fascinating to me ever since this process started is the sheer volume of women who've written to me, saying that they're in various stages of the separation process, or saying that they feel like they need to separate from their partners, but don't know why, exactly, and definitely don't know how.

How did you know? they ask.

Anxiety

The Fall

California sunrise via

I woke up this morning cold. Not just "annoyed that I had to get out of bed and abandon once and for all the chance that I might be able to sleep until the point where I actually feel rested" - that hasn't happened in a few months, and I don't see it in my near future. Like, freezing. Teeth-chattering.

(Yes yes, the former Boston/NYC-dweller in me is rolling her judgy little eyes. Whatever, my body is set to California now. I'm cold.)

DIARY

Sitting In My Backyard, Thinking About Shutters

Fact: When life gets tough, kittens help.

Weirdly enough, I haven't been crying much about moving - the actual fact of leaving this house and going to another one. Don't get me wrong: I've been crying about other things - oh god, so much, to the point where I wake up at 2 o'clock in the morning and have to mainline six glasses of water because my body is fresh out of fluid - but about the house itself, I've tried to be relatively all-business, all-the-time.

I mean, we're in escrow. I have solar panel lease transfers to sign. Boxes to pack. Schools to notify. Children to keep safeguarded from everything that's swirling around them. We have to be out of this house in three weeks.

DIARY

The Only Logical Thing To Do, Really

Our house went into escrow last night. We have thirty days (give or take a few, depending on various logistical complexities) to vacate the house that started out as just the place where we lived, and that has since become our home.

I have thirty days to find a mover, pack up three human beings and three animals, coordinate a 350-mile move to an as-of-yet-unknown location, negotiate leases and school enrollments and doctor referrals and internet hookups, figure out how to handle the fact that I have a business trip scheduled to begin on the day that we are scheduled to move (woooops), and theoretically maintain...you know, like, normal life. Or an approximation of it.

So you know what the first thing I did when I woke up this morning was?

DIARY

The Starfish

That time we went to Maine and got married.

A little over ten years ago today, Kendrick and I - and his best man, Matt - arrived in Ogunquit, Maine, and checked into our respective hotel rooms. The rest of our family and friends weren't set to start trickling in for a couple of hours more, so we decided to wander down to the main part of town and get some lunch, maybe check out the beach.

We wandered into a little jewelry shop - a touristy gift place, full of t-shirts and hats with GONE FISHING and IT'S BEER O'CLOCK SOMEWHERE and such on them. I spotted this necklace - a gold starfish studded with tiny crystals - and I loved it so much, but when I say that we were broke after paying all of the wedding expenses, I mean we were let's-not-get-coffee-at-the-deli-today-because-it-costs-a-dollar-style broke. The necklace was only twelve dollars, but still. That was twelve coffees.

Anxiety

Nothing To Do But Jump

I am not really an app person, and though my phone is full of all the apps in the world c/o my six-year-old, I couldn't tell you how to play any of the games on pain of death.

Video games, now - those I like, ever since I discovered the joys of Duck Hunt at the tender age of six (when parents all over the country simultaneously decided that it was a good idea to give their elementary schoolers pretend rifles and let them pretend-kill defenseless little birds). Kendrick and I had a brief (albeit rapturous) dalliance with Angry Birds back when we first started living together. I will happily play Super Mario with my son all night, every night because Super Mario is wonderful. And - just saying - I will take you DOWN in MarioKart (oh, yes I will). But when it comes to Candy Crush and Farmtown (or whatever it's called) or any of those other app-type games that I always see people posting about on Facebook?

Not really my thing. My phone is for looking at clothing I cannot afford to buy, watching Bachelor In Paradise from my bathtub, and accidentally and horrifyingly butt-dialing exes and frenemies.

DIARY

On to the Next

I never intended this house to be our "forever house." I never even really intended to have a "forever house" at all. My parents moved into our Hell's Kitchen apartment when I was two years old, and they live there still, so you'd think I'd have some visceral desire for permanence - but I've had many apartments, and many houses, and all of them have felt, to a greater or lesser extent, like home. I put up the pictures that I've carted with me back and forth across the country over and over again, and drape my favorite throw blanket over a bed, and all of a sudden even a temporary corporate rental isn't just "where I'm staying"...it's where I live.

When we decided to move to San Jose for Kendrick's new job, I knew so little about the area that I told people I was headed to San Francisco - as opposed to a major city that may be adjacent to San Francisco, but most certainly is not a part of it - and people on the Internet made fun of me. I'd say it was terrifying moving to a place that I knew so little about, and that was so far away from my friends and my parents, but it wasn't, not especially. Because whatever was going to happen, we were going to be together. And so at least there'd be that.

So I flew out to California with my four-year-old son to look for a house, and we both got viral gastroenteritis and ended up in the hospital, and so we did not find a house on that trip. I did eventually find a house, though, thanks to a broker who was willing to take me on countless virtual FaceTime tours of available properties while I sat on my couch in New York. We bought the house we live in now having never actually stepped foot inside it. I thought it was fine, but probably not *perfect,* but I also thought it didn't really matter, because it's not like we couldn't move if we wanted to one day.


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