Fed the cat, went back to sleep. Did not:
- Have to deal with an EME and unromantic demands to do something about it right now, without being properly warmed up and aroused.
- Have to get up because it was "time."
- Have to deal with noises created by OCPD ex b-f designed to wake lazy sleeping me. (Though he did not work and I busted my ass at a job all week long.)
- Did not have to do anything "first," that is, make breakfast, perform yoga, etc., in proper order as designated by OCPD ex-bf. Was able to do all desired activities in the order desired by me. Even making a morning phone call to sister before yoga.
- Did my yoga when I was ready to do so, enjoyed a leisurely breakfast.
- Looked at my e-mail, without any jealous snooping/tantrums.
|Love love LOVE this pic of my mom|
and her younger bro, about 1943.
Navy for him, Coast Guard for her.
He was about 19; she was 21.
Return from g. store, finish scanning photos, edit and post new blog post. Read friends' blog posts.
Make phone calls to couple of g-f's, without jealous tantrums for cutting into "our" time for watching MythBusters reruns or NASCAR or some other boring sh-t on TV that only interests him. Turned TV off immediately following yoga DVD and not planning to turn on again till next yoga session. Relish peacefulness of home without blaring TV constantly on.
Lighted yummy scented candles throughout apartment. OCPD ex b-f so paranoid about possible fire caused by candles, they were not allowed, even though on occasion he would drop lit cigarettes on carpet/couch.
Finish box o' wine and separate unibrow into two arches without derogatory comments about "preening." Ponder actually being able to have box o' wine, since never allowed enough space in OCPD ex b-f fridge to store box o' wine. Space must be reserved for gallons of mustard, salsa, and other funky food items consumed only by him. "My" food, including water pitcher, must always be kept on "my" side of refrigerator, and not infringe on "his" side of refrigerator.
And now the refrigerator is mine, all mine, bwaaa-haaaa-haaaa-haaaa!
Do some pleasure reading. Turn heater on to warm up apartment for upcoming bath, even though it is not yet cold.
- Prepare and enjoy yummy dinner at 5 pm instead of after 7, because I am physically hungry at 4:30.
- Eat salad first, instead of holding back till after pasta, even if the other is the "right" way.
- Eat pasta with parmesan/romano sprinkle blend instead of just parmesan, because that's what I like. (Plus my ground flaxseed, of course.)
- Enjoy soft breadsticks instead of rock-hard garlic toast that leaves roof of mouth scraped raw.
- Enjoy enjoy enjoy own absolutely delicious pasta sauce. So happy not to be choking down horrible nasty watery sauce with big gross chunks of onion and tomato and too-spicy Italian sausage and having to pretend enjoyment.
Wash some dishes, get on 'puter. Wash some more dishes instead of having to finish one or the other.
Deeply inhale and savor fragrance of lit candles.
Run and relish hot bath, with book and glass o' wine, even though it's not the "regular" bath night.
Stay up late working on novel.
Interspersed in all this, I fed and played with the cat, did some housekeeping chores, laid out my work wardrobe for the upcoming week, and felt... Happy. Peaceful. Grateful. Unstressed. Excited about the future, about my creative endeavors, about my social engagements with friends.
Until I experienced the freedom, I never realized how much I felt weighted down by OCPd ex-bf. By never, ever having an entire day free from criticism, disgusted looks, random sniping, or the dread that any minute, the roof was going to blow off because I hung a towel "wrong" or sneezed "incorrectly."
Now, I feel like Snoopy. (Btw, does anyone else think Lucy might be OCPD?)
Why would I - why would ANYONE - trade these happy feelings for the smug social convention of being able to say, "I'm in a relationship" with someone who makes you feel like crap, most of the time?
Why did I do that? (Still shaking my head and wondering, but so, so glad I am done with that!)
I can buy my own damn box of Valentine chocolates - if I even want one.
How 'bout you? Comments? Reactions?