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Friday, January 13, 2017

Willful Girl goes on Hiatus

Greetings, intrepid readers.


Divorce proceedings between myself and Now-Ex-Hubby have begun in earnest. (At some point I will likely wind up changing that moniker - it's quite exhausting to type out every time I want to talk about him - but for now it serves its purpose.)

As part of those proceedings, I have been advised by my lawyer to, "stop all posting to social media outlets such as Facebook and Twitter."


Which, I'm taking into consideration the same way I've evaluated my workplace's advice to be careful about my social media presence. I'm not the type to get into butt-hurt comment thread arguments about who doesn't understand who's perspective on life and why that's literally the worst thing that could ever happen. So if Now-Ex-Hubby wants to use my Facebook posts (pictures of my cat yawning and status updates on how much I like the Avenue Q soundtrack) as fodder in the divorce, I guess that's what's going to happen.


That being said, when it comes to normative places like the courthouse, there's a considerable difference between my fondness for crass, puppet-based musicals and my fondness for consensually engaging in sexual activity with scores of other people.


It's disappointing that there's a difference, but I feel as though it would be reckless to continue posting about my various adventures until the ink's dry on all the paperwork. So I'm taking a (hopefully brief) hiatus from writing here.


Tuesday, November 8, 2016

Willful Girl Rearranges some Shit

The impasse between Now-hubby and myself from last month has developed further. The weekend after I published the above-linked entry here, I finally snapped with the exhaustion of trying to find options that would bring the focus back to "us." Tired of fighting the same fight over and over again. I'd suggest an alternative to the way things were going, try to advocate for something reasonable that would help me feel like I mattered anymore. I'd get met with reassurance that Now-hubby's other relationship was going fantastically, and that slowing down to actually put work in with me wasn't something he was interested in. This culminated in a random assortment of Now-hubby's things in trash bags out in the driveway, and me locking the doors on him.


I won't waste any more time in this entry with the "I said/He said" nonsense. It doesn't change anything, and it's all trivial bullshit, honestly. Now-hubby and I were together for 13 years, so in the past three weeks there's been a lot of history to go through and a lot of "what if's" I ruminate over in those moments of silence (showers, my work commute, etc.) I still love him, and although I disagree with what he's doing and the way he's gone about it, I do hope he manages to be happy wherever he winds up. I'll spare you my circuitous mental activities, dear readers. The pertinent information for you is that I'm changing the pseudonym from "Now-hubby" to "Now-Ex-Hubby." Everything else is staying as it is. Stay tuned.


Tuesday, October 11, 2016

The one where I watch Zootopia

Alright, I'm just going to stream of consciousness this. I'm on my laptop so I'll go back later and add reaction gifs if I think they'd be appropriate, but for now I'm just starting with a bulleted list.

Gotta love a good bulleted list.


Upon further review of the play, I can't insert gifs easily into a bulleted list. So I'm just going to go for a normally typed double-spaced affect.


Alright, the small rabbit just got rape-threatened but it's cool because she got her friend's carnival tickets back.


There are seriously obvious implications that all the "prey" are girls and all the predators are fuck boys.


Or there's super racial stuff going on. I can't tell. She's still in her hometown. Let's see how it works once she gets to the disgustingly homosexual big city.


"Aren't there any fox ice cream stores you could go to?" 


OMG that's just what I thought. Elephant noses are disgusting mucus membranes.

"It's rare that I find someone so non-patronizing." He said that with a straight face I'm going to die.

So...basically this guy is a hipster Robin Hood.



Jesus Christ Disney these rabbits have 400 other children by this point and they still have time to call their little baby bunny in the big city? 

Oh, geez. A suspenseful villain chase through the smallest part of town. If only there was a new cop on the force who's approximately the same size.


Emmitt Otter? Surely they mean Emmet Otter's Jugband Christmas?


I think Bellwether is my favorite.

I'm so glad that amongst all the stereotypes this movie is supposed to be fighting, the fat gay one is still a hilariously reliable trope.


He's fucking typing it slow the hell down.

My Netflix just lagged and I seriously thought it was still part of the bit.


NOBODY saw that visual gag coming. "Mr. Big?" Well played.


 So...they're like zombies or something.


Nick's fucking back story.


You have to get enthusiastic consent to touch a sheep's wool.


American Horror Story: Zootopia

I want to know what the hell is going on with the fish and birds.

YOU'RE THE WORST AT PRESS CONFERENCES.


Awww. Bullies just feel scared to be themselves.


Oh okay. The "savages" are just tripping on bath salts.

Dang Mr. Big's daughter about to have hundreds of babies.

Cool. The Walter White character showed up.


FUUUUCK Bellwether I trusted you!

"It starts with all of us."


EPIC SHAKIRA DANCE PARTY ENDING.


Monday, October 10, 2016

Stale Mate

Now-hubby and I have reached a bit of an impasse with our relationship. After four sessions with the therapist, things weren't progressing. That's the standard relationship cut-off point, yeah? Four dates to figure out whether the two of you are trying for forever?


To be perfectly clear, we weren't trying to date our therapist. I'm being explicitly facetious about "standard" relationship progression in order to express frustration with how much time and effort I've invested for the minimal changes within our relationship. Our therapist was phenomenal. She had a lot of insights into how Now-hubby and I operate as a couple. In the end, I decided to discontinue couples therapy because it started to feel like an "easy" fix for Now-hubby. Talk in front of a professional: one hour, once a week. Address a lot of issues in the way we understand each other and how things have gone down since capital-T Thursday. Make the absolute minimal effort to adapt our relationship outside of that weekly hour.


Which is not to say the therapy train has let the station. I've got two appointments set for early December with psychiatrists. The only reason for the time delay is I wanted to narrow the field to fit some strict criteria. I'm considering letting somebody alter the way my brain works chemically; I'd like them to have at least a 4/5 star rating from previous patients. Also important: a pysch that's taking new patients and has an actual human I can talk to when I call their office. Don't worry, dear readers, I'll be posting on how the medicinal approach to what previous therapists have diagnosed as "generalized anxiety disorder" goes.


Next week will mark the two month anniversary of capital-T Thursday. Two months in which Now-hubby and I haven't so much as kissed on the mouth. I've reached lows I haven't since when I was still living at home. Now-hubby's waiting for me to match the emotional intensity he's got going on in his other relationship. I'm waiting for his NRE (new relationship energy) rose-colored glasses to fade back to standard UV levels.

It'll be another two months before I can even start the discussion of changing the way I address reality. By that time, I don't know what color Now-hubby's glasses are going to be.

I don't know if it will matter.

Sunday, September 18, 2016

Willful Girl Talks it Out

The school year is officially back in full swing again. When my department got together on the first day to discuss our schedule and expectations for the year, we started the meeting by sharing one word that best described our summers. My word was: over.


Which is not to say that my summer wasn't any other adjective, verb, or noun that I could have said instead. Once I got through with Summer School, I traveled down to America's penis (Florida) to spend some time with my best of all best friends. Devoted three days of the trip to losing my damn nerd mind at The Wizarding World of Harry Potter.


After just enough time at home to do laundry and re-pack my suitcase, Frisbee and I gathered our passports and headed to the international side of the airport for a week-long trip across the Atlantic. 


We got back stateside, I had one day to sleep off the jet lag, and then it was back to school. Granted, teachers etc. were back on Thursday and students didn't start back until the following Monday. Which means I had an entire weekend to try and get myself over what has become known as capital-T Thursday. The day Now-hubby and I blew ourselves up over bad timing regarding a possible emotionally significant advancement in his other relationship. If the context two sentences ago wasn't enough of a clue, no, I'm still not over it.


Now-hubby and I have both been in other romantic, emotionally significant relationships since we've been together. Despite me being the nonmonogamy instigator, Now-hubby's the one who handles it better. He approaches everything from a perspective of loving me and wanting me to be happy, whereas I'm always waiting for the other shoe to drop. For fuck's sake, Now-hubby helped me clear out our extra room when Frisbee was moving in. And I'm consistently waiting for the moment when  Now-hubby (or any of my partners, really) is going to look over and say, "this nonmonogamy thing is too hard and you're not worth the effort." Or even worse: "Things in this other relationship are going so well I've decided I'd rather be there instead of with you." Again, this is one of those hilariously fun things that's carried over from the way people who supposedly cared about me have treated me in the past. I am getting better about my turn-around - getting faster at shutting down those internal voices and better about asking for what I need in moments I feel vulnerable. 

Which doesn't at all mean that moments like capital-T Thursday don't still happen and knock me right back on my emotionally unstable ass. It's been just under a month of mental examination, conversations with my best friend, and trying to get back to my version of "normal."


Hence, Willful Girl returns to the therapist's office. Similar to the first time, it's in deference to Now-hubby recognizing that there's a problem. Contrastingly, Now-hubby's coming with me and we're talking things through together. Bless that man and his willingness to be there for me.