I've been feeling very run down the last 3 or 4 days, just very tired (despite going to bed at fairly ridiculously early times every night) and physically achy.
Oh, and my eyes decided to get all possessed or something and have been very red and irritated for still unknown reasons as well, but let me tell you, there's nothing like a religious contact wearer being forced to wear glasses to improve her crummy mood.
AND I've been working every single day of my feeling worn out period. And not just generic working, but with opening shifts, which means I've had my alarm clock going off at 5:30 every morning.
(Have I mentioned how in the alternate reality where my opinion on such things matters mornings simply would not begin until after 7 every day?)
So, I haven't been in my most cheerful of cheerful moods at work the past few days.
And my coworkers have been picking up on it.
(Me making comments of "ugh... fuck life" may or may not have contributed to their brilliant deduction of me subtly being less than ecstatically happy.)
Yesterday a couple of the slightly older gals, whom I would guess to be in the late 30s to early 40s range, except that I'm notably bad at guessing people's ages so we'll just pin point it to older than me and younger than my parents, decided that what I needed to feel better was a man.
I think my response was to grunt, but I'm not really sure. Apparently a side effect of being really out of it is you only remember these things vaguely because you were really out of it at the time they happened.
However, I'm pretty sure that because I was really out of it I didn't have any great smart-ass comebacks to throw out (or even bitter ex-wife material), and therefore did not come anywhere near a reasonable discussion of this topic.
And just for the record, my present writing of this blog post is delaying a shower and sleep for me, both of which I want more than my firstborn child right now, so it's probably going to be a very abbreviated analysis of the whole questionable man needing situation and may still not be a reasonable discussion of this topic.
Somewhere along the line in the last 36 hours my brain kinda sorta almost turned on enough to go "hey, I don't agree with that" and to feel mildly insulted by the insinuation of me needing a man.
Admittedly, I am a little bitter still about how the whole marriage/fatherhood thing went for me/my children the first time around whether I want to be or not.
I probably need to reach a cathartic inner state of actually forgiving Peter for being an asshole before I can fully let go of the feelings of resentment.
But I'm just not there quite yet. And I think that's ok. Five years from now? That'll be waaaaay past the time to move on. But our official divorce wasn't even a full month ago. I'm allowed to harbor "you're an asshole" feelings a little longer before I have to be a bigger person and just let that shit go.
(Fun Marty fact: she can hold a grudge like nobody's business!)
But that only slightly questionable bitterness that I'm still feeling makes me very cynical of the idea of getting another man, because I immediately think of all Peter's worst attributes and then want to declare I'm perfectly happy not needing to clean up a 4th person's dirty underwear on a daily basis thankyouverymuch.
I think why, so he can sit around and play video games all day? Or tell me he'll take out the garbage and then ALWAYS forget to?
Or so I can feel constantly disappointed by him not providing me the emotional support and loving life fulfillment I expect of my husband?
(I told you I was still bitter.)
But there's still that teeny tiny little part of me (this is where that "just let it go" will eventually come from) that knows that's not entirely fair. Not to Peter. Not to potential male interests. Not to me.
But really acknowledging that part means admitting fear.
So we'll just move right on to the other part of why Marty doesn't need a man, which actually has nothing at all to do with her first marriage, but everything to do with her fierce sense of independence.
I was stubbornly independent as a child, stupidly independent as a teenager, and foolishly independent as a young adult.
I do NOT like needing anybody for any reason, because I am absolutely convinced that I can do anything all by myself if I so choose.
Including this whole life thing.
I don't NEED a man to live life. I don't NEED a man to have a good life. I don't NEED a man to have a successful life. And I most certainly don't NEED a man to raise two amazing children.
And so far in my life having that inner determination has been absolutely crucial to survival.
If I had NEEDED Peter, everything would have fallen completely apart every time he was gone. I had to be able to handle it (all of it) on my own, whether I wanted to or not.
Although I must admit, every so often that defensive wall of self-reliance lets through a teeny tiny crack of the idea that just perhaps there might be a situation where things might be better because of being able to rely on someone else in the significant other sphere.
But I'm pretty good at ignoring that idea.
And there you have it, why Marty does NOT need a man.
Even when she's grumpy.
(Why don't they ever look at me and say "Marty needs cupcakes!" or "Marty needs a raise!"?? The whole idea of needing a man is just degrading and sexist. Seriously. Give me fucking cupcakes next time people, I'll go find a man when I damn well feel like it.)