Tag: separation

I’d been meaning to write for a few days now, but since my Desktop computer is still ridiculously slow, and I can’t seem to remember my password for WordPress, and I’m using my iPad as a laptop but my keyboard died (I literally hadn’t charged it in like, 3 years), and I couldn’t find one of those old-connection chargers—I didn’t update. (Wasn’t THAT just the longest run-on sentence in the world?)

Anyway. I had my follow-up appointment with my ortho last Wednesday and of course it took 4 hours. Linda is a saint for sitting with me that long, but thank God she does ‘cause she makes it fun. So when we’ve almost been sitting there for 4 hours and the doc finally comes in to talk to me, he already seems annoyed. He says, “You were supposed to come in 2 weeks ago, what happened?” I said, “Oh, I had to call and cancel my appointment because I had Covid.” And he snaps, “Well, I didn’t know that.” You would think the woman I spoke to would have made a note or something about why I rescheduled. 🙄

He goes on and says I should already be out of the boot. I’m shocked and mumble, “But I’ve been using it for the 2 weeks and I just started putting weight on it. I can stand, but I can’t walk on it at all.” He closes his eyes and says, “Well you need to lose the crutches.” My mouth drops open and I ask when I’m starting physical therapy. He says he’ll get his Worker’s Comp girl to give me information and that I’ll be attending 3 times a week. So to further annoy the man, I ask if I can go to my old physical therapy place because well, it kinda takes a really long time here for follow-ups, and how long would it take at their therapy? He says about an hour or 2 (bullshit) and that he’s in charge of my surgery and after-care so I would be attending physical therapy at their office. 😡

I’ve been putting weight on my foot more and more and have been “walking”…with my crutches. There is NO WAY that I can make my brain communicate with my foot and leg and move it forward. And when I do, I feel like I’m going to collapse from the shocking pain I feel in my heel and the right side of my ankle, where the scar is.

I should be starting physical therapy tomorrow—with my old therapy place. I asked around and I can choose where I want to go so *hmph*. I have to admit though, I’m terrified of what exercises I’m going to have to do. Last time was just sprains and strains. This time I actually broke something and have metal in my leg and need to learn to walk all over again 🙁 .

And speaking of learning again—I’ll have to force myself to eventually learn to date again because Jorge and I are completely DUNZO. Not even sure if I ever mentioned that we were trying to “work things out” again but that was a total flop. I think the holidays made us lonely and nostalgic and it was convenient to spend the holidays together with the kids and our families. But spending a week together just showed me we really don’t belong together. Even for Alaethia’s birthday last week: he was just in such a rotten mood and told me the ugliest things. The one that stuck with me the most and I keep repeating in my head when he randomly texts and starts being “nice” is, “I never should have married you” and other horrible things he said about why we got married. So I was a bitch and talked shit back. Of course before the night was over he texted to say he made a fool of himself and he was sorry but he couldn’t stop himself 🙄 . But it was fine. It needed to happen. I don’t want to waste anymore time being unhappy or on edge. For now, I’m concentrating on the kids, work and just living day by day.

Eenan and Alaethia tested positive for Covid on Friday. Mary picked us all up and we went to get PCR tests done. I was supposed to go out on Friday night but decided I should probably quarantine. Again. We get our results on Wednesday. They called us today and scared the shit out of us saying that all 4 of us were positive. I was freaking out; my hypochondria was acting up and making me feel like I was having heart palpitations and trouble breathing, but I’m sure it was a mild panic attack LOL. They called back to tell us it was a mistake—we were negative on the rapid tests. Jesus Christ.

Anyway. It’s almost midnight and I have to work in the morning so I shall go to sleep.

Since the last time I wrote, there have been several major changes in my life.

First, Jorge and I called it quits AGAIN sometime at the end of March 2021 (This was after the first time I found out he cheated with that little idiot, Sabrina, back in March of 2020). One of the conditions of getting back together back in November/December 2020 was him seeing a therapist for his mental health/anger issues and getting meds prescribed. And he did go—once. I could always tell when he had stopped taking them because he turned into a short-tempered jerk. Any little thing would set him off. It wasn’t long before he’d start calling the kids and I “worthless” because he wasn’t happy with something. And even though we were “working things out” he still lived at his house with his kids and I lived at my house with mine. He would sleep over every-so-often, or I would sleep over at his house. And then we would argue. He would take me out to eat and we’d still bond over playing Pokemon Go…until we would argue again. He’d storm off to his house and I’d fester in my anger at mine.

One day in late February 2021, we were up for a home inspection by my landlord. The house, which by this point I’ve lived at for 10 1/2 years, needed the doors and trim painted and I needed help organizing. Jorge said he would help me and of course the kids would help me. Even though I knew better, I made the mistake of waiting for him. But I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. That entire week, when I would try to paint after work, he’d want to go out to eat since we were “kid-less” and he would say, “What are you worried about, I’m going to help you on the weekend.” Something deep down inside kept bugging me about him saying that. I knew he wouldn’t.

Friday comes and he has to work late. *Insert facepalm here*. He doesn’t get here till 11pm and by then he just wants to go to bed because he’s tired. He says we’ll wake up early and go to Walmart (because I needed paint rollers). Our alarm goes off the next morning and I try waking him. He stirs and mumbles something about going to Stripes and getting breakfast tacos…and falls asleep again. Well, if he’s gonna sleep, I’ll sleep too. I set the alarm for another hour and go back to sleep. When he doesn’t wake up the 2nd and 3rd time I try waking him, I finally shake him awake because I’m panicking about the time; the day is going fast. His bi-polarism causes him to wake up in awful moods when he’s not medicated (pretty much how I was greeted every morning that we were together for 10 years). He storms around, bitching that the kids and I should have started early. I tell him, “But you told me all week you were going to help me. I waited for you like you told me to!” As we walk down the hallway to leave to Walmart, the dogs hear us and lose it because they want to go outside. He yells at Alaethia to wake up and take the dogs out and proceeds to talk about how lazy she is. I’m swallowing my anger by now. Then he’s complaining that he doesn’t have pants and he can’t believe he’s going in his sweatpants. I tell him we’ve gone to Walmart in pj’s plenty of times and that I don’t like how he spoke to Alaethia and he proceeds to call her lazy again, plus my other 2 kids. And I snap, “You are talking about ALL the children, including yours, right? Because yours are just as lazy!” And he says I need to get over it and that he doesn’t even LIVE HERE so why should he help me?? Then he says, “You know, you’re right— this shit really isn’t working.” And I said, “You leave this time and THAT’S IT! Don’t come begging back!” And he says, “Oh, I won’t, don’t worry!” He marches back in to get his things and drives off.

I’m so angry I stomp inside and start bawling from sheer frustration because how am I supposed to do this on my own?? But my gals came in clutch: Sally, Kary and Martha came over to help in the evening, thank God. Mario was coming to pick up the kids and starts helping, too. We order pizza and have wine and everyone is helping paint and organize. Somehow, we get everything painted and spic-n-span by the time the landlord shows up the following day. I was so grateful for everyone. Jorge called later that first night when his episode was over and asked if I needed help, way after the fact, mind you. But I was livid. I didn’t want his help at all.

A couple of weeks pass and he’s once again calling, asking to see me, or to have dinner, and so on. By this time, I’ve already replaced the TV and sofas that he took in October 2020, when he moved into the house he and Javi are renting. I had money saved and I felt like a strong, independent woman who don’t need no man! But he still calls. Still wants to work things out. Still takes us to the beach, twice. I told him he needed to be on his meds because I knew he wasn’t. I was extremely skeptical and still didn’t trust him after the whole cheating-with-Sabrina thing.

Then he gets this career opportunity right before my birthday to be the General Manager for either 1) a brand-new restaurant opening up in our city, or 2) the GM for 2 other already-established restaurants in our city. Let’s just say that I had no idea that choice #1 was the type of restaurant where the women are VERY scantily clad. He painted a pretty picture of it, saying that it was like a Hooters. Ok. I could handle Hooters, I guess. He kept saying he didn’t know if he should take the job because he would be away on training for a month and he didn’t know if his mental health would stay intact if he was so far away and alone, and he knew I wouldn’t like the idea of the new restaurant. I told him not to base his decision on what I would think, because obviously we weren’t doing very well and I wasn’t about to be blamed for him turning down a “good opportunity”. But deep down, I knew I wouldn’t be okay with that place. Especially after a quick Google search.

So we spend time together here and there. He’s trying his best. But I’m still keeping my guard up.

April 13th is Sally’s birthday. She was feeling down so I gathered up the girls, a cake and some flowers and we had a little get together for her at The Oak Bar.

My birthday is on April 14th. When the day comes around, we get as many of the kids together as we can. We’re not doing too good with money but I had some saved up and John had sent me $200 so I took myself and the family out :). Things still felt awkward to me, though; it just felt like everything was…forced? And he’s in a bad mood, like always, but he was making an effort to keep it at bay. And he brought me flowers.

We decide on Cheddar’s and have a pretty good evening with the kids.

It was a great evening. I was feeling pretty darn blessed by the end of the night.

We (Jorge and I) celebrated my birthday at Suerte Uptown with Martha and Rudy that Friday. It was Selena-themed! Love those events! Sally and Kary didn’t go because they didn’t want to have anything to do with Jorge, which I’d grown used to, but I was also a little butthurt, not gonna lie.

We had a great time, we even danced. Jorge was due to leave to training the day after and he wanted to go out one more time before he left.

The next day Jorge got ready to go and Martha and I took an impromptu trip to San Antonio because she wanted to go to IKEA. She was a couple months pregnant and had terrible morning sickness plus motion sickness and got sick several times on the way over. I felt so bad for her. But we eventually made it and she felt better on solid ground, heh.

For the rest of the month while Jorge was away in Dallas for training, he would call and send photos. One of the days towards the end of his stay in Dallas we have a serious talk about working on getting back together. He would take his meds. I would work on forgiving him. He would move back home.

But once he got back from training mid-May, he was working long hours setting the restaurant up, hiring servers and training staff for the grand opening on May 31st. We took the kids to the soft opening and I was appalled. John went with us. The chicks were basically wearing thongs. I knew I wasn’t going to like this at all. Not because I’m a prude, but because I knew my husband.

Jorge sleeps over at the house several nights out of the week, but he goes home to his house on some nights to check on the boys and Javi, and to make sure they haven’t destroyed the house. There was one time when he was sleeping over at my house that he left at 3am because there was some “emergency”. My womanly instincts didn’t buy that shit. He had even started taking calls outside when we were together so I wouldn’t hear whom he was talking to. Then, not too long after, he starts calling after work saying he’s working super late and he’s the only one available. Even though my house is way closer to the restaurant, he makes it seem like he’s being thoughtful and is just going to go home because he doesn’t want to wake me up since he’d get here so late. I start getting Wing Stop vibes—back when he still worked in San Antonio and he wasn’t coming home anymore because he had started cheating with that little bitch, Sabrina.

In mid-July, Briana is packing up the house in Austin and moving back to the Valley. We decide to make a weekend of it. My girls and I would help her move and we’d all hang out. I tell Jorge about it and he isn’t going at first, then says he’ll join us. On Friday afternoon, as we’re getting ready to go, he is BITCHING that we’re running late and he has to go to a storage unit to rent for his mom (because he waited on his ass all damn day instead of going—but it was my fault, don’t you see). We get to the storage place and he says we’re super late and he’s not going to get the unit for this lady and we’re going to arrive super late and that EVERYTHING IS MY FAULT. The girls and I were thinking, WTF is his problem?? If I didn’t know any better I would have said it was drug withdrawals, or maybe he’d had a fight with one of his hoes, but who knows.

The entire 6 hours over there is brutal. He’s just in a terrible mood and at one point during the evening he starts telling me off. The girls are in the back, scared, and Emily even starts recording—just in case. How awful is it that she’s a little kid and she’s scared enough of his rage that she feels the need to record?? He’s going off on me and I told him to shut the fuck up because he’s showing my daughters exactly how a man SHOULDN’T be speaking to his spouse and he needed to stop being an asshole.

We get to the house and he acts like absolutely everything is peachy in front of his mom and sister. She knows otherwise, of course. As they’re moving things the next day, he whines and complains about how they shouldn’t have asked him to come if Briana and Dinah didn’t like how he did things. Briana’s like, Um, nobody invited you LOL.

So it was a miserable time. The girls and I even left earlier than he did so we didn’t have to deal with him.

About a week goes by and every single time we talk, we argue. We can’t just be civil. Dinah and Briana and the kids are staying at Jorge and Javi’s while they find a suitable apartment. Briana and Jorge are fighting all the time and I tell her that she and the kids can stay with me and my kids at my house if she wants. Then, on a Wednesday morning, I get a text from Briana asking if she can stay with us after all because she doesn’t want to be there anymore and she has to tell me something.

Again—my spidey-womanly senses are a-tingling. It’s about Jorge. He did something, I know it. I’m on pins and needles until she finally calls. She sounds exasperated and angry and tells me that he took a tall, really young girl to the house and took her to his room. And that they’d been having pool parties with a girl named Daisy (who ends up becoming Justin’s fiancé later on). And that Jorge is just partying it up till all hours of the night acting like he’s a teenager himself. She said there’s beer bottles piled high in the bins. And he was waking everyone up making the chick breakfast (or dinner) at 5am.

I’m livid. I knew it the entire time. I looked through Facebook photos of the shitty “bar & grill” he worked at and I knew exactly who the little slut was. Some little bitch named “Steph”, who had JUST TURNED 19!! We have kids older than that! I was so disgusted by him. The girls were disgusted. And yet, he starts calling me a couple months later, after I broke my foot, asking if I need help, about my love life and telling me about his and that little whore. He come around acting as though we’re the best of friends. He ends up trying to weasel his way back in, but I’m pretty sure it’s because he was broke (oh, he ended up still owing me tons of money) and I was going to remove him and the boys from my health insurance in November and he wasn’t going to want to pay me if I kept them on. BUT. Needless to say, I stupidly gave it one more time—mostly because I needed the help. But he was still talking to her, I later found out. Still talking to several chicks and on Alaethia’s birthday, as we drove to pick up the Olive Garden order she requested, told me he didn’t want to be responsible for kids or me or anyone or anything. He just wanted to “do him”. Told me he regretted ever marrying me and that was it, the last straw. I stopped answering his calls when he called to say he “missed his best friend,” which is what he always said when he was feeling lonely and having regrets. I told him he couldn’t have it both ways. It took me a bit to get over it, especially because I couldn’t believe he did this to me AGAIN. But that was it. I was done. I wasn’t going to be stupid anymore. I’d wasted enough time.

Feeling super adulty today. I didn’t sleep in and I did most of the laundry yesterday, which I usually do on Sundays and am killing myself at 12am when there’s still shit to be dried. Anyway! So I only have a couple of loads of towels to wash and then I’m done with that. I also filed my taxes–hell yeahhh! I remember waiting till the last minute last year and then bitching when my refund took forever LOL. I’ve got bills to pay this year so, I’m on pins and needles waiting for that money.

Since my last post: I’m liking my job. Love the pay (even though taxes, retirement and health insurances KILL ME), love that I have my own area (cubicle–my first job where I’m posted up in a cubicle!) and I get to read at my desk during lunch. My co-workers are all awesome, but I only get to see 2 of them every 2 weeks. How do I explain it? Like, they’re scheduled for 2 weeks in a row and then they telework for 4 weeks or some crap like that. Luckies. But I recently started teleworking once a week, which is nice, but this past week was a disaster. The internet kept crapping out, I deleted a file from our SharePoint like a dumbass that I couldn’t retrieve and then I had to go in halfway through the day because a shipment of supplies was being delivered *face palm*. My boss didn’t reply to my texts about going in because he was in a meeting and I didn’t want to end up HAVING to go in and being in a hurry, so I panicked and went in. He sees me in the office and says, “What are you doing here??” *face palm #2* But it was still a good day.

I met one of my female co-workers for the first time this week and I just love her. We are both girly, love pink and plants. And have tons in common! She even gave me cuttings from her beautiful Golden Pothos!

As for Jorge and I…we decided around…December? that we would see how things would go between us. He did start taking meds for his mental health issues (but forgets to sometimes and then we both can’t handle it) and he did see a psychiatrist like I suggested (but then stopped going). Most of the time he’s the “old, OLD Jorge”–the Jorge that was always completely infatuated with me and just loved spending time with me. But sometimes, like lately, the “bad, old Jorge” makes an appearance and I can’t deal. It brings back too many bad memories. I’ve decided that this year I’m working on my inner peace and dealing with his (or anyone’s) bullshit ain’t for me. Not doing that anymore. It’s taking a lot of motivation that I’m struggling to find, but I’m working on my goals this year.

My kiddos are doing fine, even though Eenan doesn’t come over as often as he used to, but we do video chat. Jaylen, Alaethia and Emmos are here the majority of the month, but still visit their dad (who is, amazingly, buying his own house after all these years). I’m still renting my same house, but hoping that’ll change in the future. So much of my money gone to waste on rent, but at least we have a roof over our heads.

Dimitri (John’s baby) turned 2 on January 30th.

Alaethia turned 14 last month and Emily turns 12 this month–crazy!!

The girls have recently gotten really into working out; I hope they continue long enough so that I can join them. I’m telling you–that damn motivation is hard to find! I’ve unsuccessfully started and re-started Keto. I messed up this weekend, again. But I NEED to get on the ball. I’m holding steady at 142-145. FML!!!

I’d rather read (“Luster” by Raven Leilani, “When No One is Watching” by Alyssa Cole are my most recent finished reads) than go for a walk, but I did yesterday with the girls. It was nice taking Jack Jack with us (oh, Jack is my Shih Tzu that Martha gave us at the end of January <3 !).

I don’t think I wrote about it, but around September/October, mom started having really bad pains in her back and started losing mobility in her legs due to the pain. She had about 3 falls–with the last one being so bad that I asked Aunt Nora for help with getting her into a nursing home. It was a good thing I showed up after work that day, because after Linda left, Mom decided to go to the kitchen for lunch and fell and stayed there all those hours till I showed up. I didn’t have a key to John’s apartment so I had to call the ambulance and ask John to please hurry. He got there before the ambulance did, thank goodness. It was heartbreaking to see her there on the floor when we barged in but we didn’t want to move her. The EMT’s did and she was in so much pain. Turned out that she had several old fractures and the newest one was causing the intense pain. She decided on her own after that that she did want to be in a nursing home. It was a relief. I thought she would become more depressed, but she’s got some awesome neighbors and roommate and nurses. Her roommate, Sonia, and her very good friend, Bill, spend time with mom and have actually gotten her to go out and play bingo and get her nails done. I’m so happy she’s happy. I have to get a Covid test done every 2 weeks to ensure that I’m negative and to be able to visit her, but it’s worth it to see her.

The girls (my friends) and I had been having weekly Girl’s Nights, but because Covid is once again on the rise, we’ve kind of halted. Mary, from Quinta Mazatlan, passed away due to Covid. It was a shock. Duvin, my old co-worker from TABC, passed away from a heart attack. It’s just so sad. Javi is also very sick. He’s back in Austin with Dinah. He hasn’t replied to messages or tagged me in cat posts on Facebook like he used to, so that worries me also. I know his condition is very grave, but we’re all hoping for a miracle.

Ok, going to make sure these girls get the dishes in the dishwasher before I start the foods for Superbowl. Go Tom Brady! I mean, Buccaneers!!