I'm remodeling four or five rooms in my house. At the same time. Technically by myself. With almost no first-hand knowledge of what I'm doing and a hell of a lot of tools I can't ever find.
HAS ANYONE SEEN MY PHILIPS HEAD DRILL BIT?!?!?!
I figure I've watched enough This Old House, DIY Network, Bath Crashers and Design Star to have a PhD in Remodelology, including installing new door hardware (which is simple, right?! WRONG. Try installing 2011 lock hardware in three separate 1915 doors and you tell me how simple it turns out to be. Fucking non-standard widths and original hardware that left the core of the doors empty.)((IT WAS HAIR-RIPPING MADNESS).
So my porch is done, and two bedrooms, and my bathroom is down to plywood subfloor.
My ONLY bathroom has been reduced to plywood and screws and sharp tile shreds.
Oh the panic: I have until November 1st to replace the vanity with a pedestal sink, have the toilet moved, repair the subfloor (because some DUMBASS laid tile directly on top of plywood and used CEMENT to adhere it, so it was no shocker when the tile came up and the subfloor under the toilet is rotting and discolored, SO SO WET), install a new toilet over the new plumbing, move an electrical outlet from over the sink (still not sure if I *need* to do that or not), install an exhaust fan and figure out if it can be recessed between the joists of the ceiling or if I need to build a soffit, lay waterproof barrier down and install a new floor. Oh, and paint everything. And cut/install floorboards and trim. And reinforce the heating vent, which is basically just floating over a huge hole because it's not attached to any kind of stud or wall support.
I CAN HAZ LOTS OF SHIT TO DO, YA'LL.
But this huge Fail of a project honestly isn't the biggest change happening right now. Our families have been more or less updated now, so it's relatively safe to tell all you Interweb strangers.
Gray and I decided that we make better friends than spouses. We decided to make a split, and he has moved out of the house.
Divorce #2 by the age of twenty-eight! If it weren't for Brittany Spears, I'd have the world record of Really Big, Expensive, Hurtful Mistakes.
It's a much, MUCH longer story than I'm going to share here, mostly because it's a private matter (you know I don't consider much sacred here, so I must mean business) and I have no desire to rumor monger when it comes to one of the best men I've ever known in my life. He didn't do anything wrong to cause any of this.
As it is, Gray and I aren't angry with each other. We're not fighting, nor are we blaming each other, nor pushing our friends and family into choosing sides. Gray and I will always be very, very good friends. He will always be Uncle Jeremy to Angel Butt. I'll always call his mother Mama. Our mutual friends (and there are MANY) will always be mutual friends. Our dogs will always belong to us both.
It's just that I've learned (via therapy and an excruciating trial and error process) that I am not the type of woman who is cut out for marriage. Or monogamy, for that matter. So we're reverting back to our original status of really good friends.
And I'm praying to gods I don't believe in that I won't ever be stupid enough to make the same mistakes a third time. It's okay to hurt myself, but not other people.
They must have a Divorcers Anonymous somewhere, no?
So to Gray, my best friend and the man who has been there with me, by my side every day, for more than four years as a partner, and before that as a rock-steady confidant and friend, through months in the hospital, through more changes of address than I can remember, through our miscarriage, our family dramas, through my staggering, life-shattering bouts with depression and anxiety and suicidal thoughts.
Thank you Jeremy for everything you've done for me, all of the memories we built together, and all of the ways you helped me to find who I really am.
You taught me to be my true self, even if I don't know who exactly she is. You're taught me how to search for her.
I love you and I'll never regret any of our time together, not for a second. You stepped back from something you love so that I could be free to follow my own path, one that was hurtful and doesn't include you in the same capacity that you'd hoped. You selflessly gave me back parts of my life that I've never truly had: independence and the promise/fear of an uncertain future.
I hope more than anything we still have decades of memories to build together. We will always be family. You'll always be my lobsta.
And I hope that you find the happiness that you are so over-qualified to enjoy. You are the best thing that's ever happened to me in so many ways.
I'll never be able to thank you sufficiently for that.
And so we're off to start new chapters of our lives, embarking on some not-necessarily-welcomed adventures of our own, and altering our world views to include a future that doesn't involve growing old together as husband and wife.
It's terrifying and sad. It's also hopeful and liberating, at least for me.
There will be a long period of adjustment for us both, as well as our friends and family who know us as happy and well-suited for each other. In the end, I believe we've made the best decision for us both.
And that, ya'll, is really all we can do.