Regrets

A work colleague, friend, good friend, wonderful person, recently got divorced after 6 years of marriage. No kids, a dog which she happily let him take. She felt she is too busy for daily walks. But she's worried he won't take care of the dog very well and this makes her sad.

She's going to get a cat. She can handle a cat. Cats don't need daily walks. 

She has been depressed over [gestures everywhere] all this. We were supposed to meet on something at 1pm but she was offline. I messaged her, she didn't message back.

Admittedly, I'm kind of used to this from a handful of my work colleagues. They have anxiety, they have some autistic tendencies. They have meltdowns for a couple hours and come back feeling better. They prioritize self care. My Gen-X soul doesn't understand it sometimes but I am aware of how they function and feel, and I am always here waiting for them once they are able to pull up out of the tailspin. 

She didn't come back online and wasn't at the next meeting I expected to see her at. And this worried me.

I texted her. I figured, if she's not using the work communications tools, I want her to know that I'm worried, but also, that I'm here. She called me right back. 

She was indeed having a meltdown, and couldn't stop. 

It all started this morning with an electrical issue in her condo. Calling an electrician, she couldn't get anyone to come out today, tomorrow, maybe Friday, but most likely Monday. 

"The whole second floor of my house has no power. I'm afraid to turn on switches. I think everything is going to catch on fire," she said. 

"Probably not," I replied. 

She's much younger than me, and she asked if the upstairs toilet would still flush. Because. That's the "pooping" toilet. I tried not to laugh, because this is my super power - I'm able to hear people out when they say something and not laugh in their faces.

"Toilets do not run on electricity," I told her. "Go ahead, poop all you like. Flush. Poop more. Flush But, you probably want to do it in the daylight." 

She laughed a little and said she has a headlamp that she used a lot when she and her husband used to go camping. He left it at the house. She said that she was thankful for that, and she wondered if he'd ever want the camping gear back. I heard how sad this made her feel.

It was then she confessed to me, "I made a big mistake," sighing, "I never should have gotten divorced. I should have toughed it out. We could have made it work." 

Regrets. She has a few. To steal from Sinatra. 

"Well, I mean, no? You don't have to say that," trying to bolster her life decisions. 

The divorce was mostly rooted in his addictions. Alcohol, pot, and porn. After a full year of couple's therapy, him trying  and failing to give up his vices, her realizing he isn't a fun happy drunk he's a mean and rude drunk. And the porn, that hurt her the most. He didn't want to sleep with her, but he sure did spend a lot of time wanking and watching. 

And it was getting expensive. None of this is cheap, especially if you are paying for online access and not just using the cheap free videos that are readily available online.

She asked him to make a choice, her or the addictions. He said he couldn't.

So she did. 

"He would have been here and I bet he would have figured this electrical thing out," she said. "And if he needed, he would have called the electrician and explained the situation. And because they're both guys,  the electician would say, oh yeah dude, I'll come right over. It's probably easy peasy. Five minutes, in and out." 

She told me the electrician asked her a bunch of questions, kind of like I would in troubleshooting a problem with one of our products. Like the I.T. Crowd, "Did you turn it off and turn it on again?" 

She couldn't answer the questions, she didn't understand what he was asking. So the guy probably was annoyed with her and said okay lady, I'll .... come eventually. 

And now she thinks the electrical system in the house is going to short out, blaze up, and she'll die in her sleep. 

Which, obviously, sent her into a panic spiral. 

"I haven't done anything work-wise today. I've been clutching my belly since 6am. I'm in pain. Now I feel like I need to go to the hospital. Like, I'm dying from stress." 

I didn't have a car that I could go to her house (plus, she's like, near Delaware or New Jersey up there ... that part of Maryland, which isn't exactly an easy thing to do, just get in a car and drive three hours). 

But I wanted to. 

Her mom and dad are not speaking to her, they blame her for the separation and they think the ex-husband can do no wrong. 

She feels like she has no one. Which is pretty much true.

We talked for over an hour. I told her she can't change the past, that she made the right decisions for herself and hopefully in the long run for him too. He needs help. And maybe one day he'll get it. 

And she will get an electrician to come. 

And she just needs to look ahead, look forward, and not perseverate that she made a mistake. Because she didn't. It may not feel like it, but.

Everything will work out.

"Give yourself the grace to poop in the first floor bathroom because honey, after all, you share this house with no one. You can poop with the door open. You can turn music up and sing while you are pooping. Celebrate your pooping!"

She laughed, and she got a phone call while we were chatting. 

The electrician could come over and take a look on his way home around 4. 

I didn't get to talk with her again tonight, she did text me and sent a hug emoji and a heart. 

I guess that's how people talk anymore, and that's a thank you. 

We all have regrets, don't we? 

Sometimes, they feel insurmountable. You will never ever get over some things. But you will. 

I always say to people, "Next year in Jerusalem!" or I quote Guster "By this time next year, I won't be here," meaning this shitty situation. I'll be able to look back, and see that I survived it. "Be Calm, Be Brave, It'll Be Okay."  Also, Bruce Springsteen "Someday we'll look back on this and it will all seem funny." 

Hopefully. 

And so, I ate the last piece of apple pie in the fridge because Doug and Geoff both said they felt they had their fair share, and that was for me, if I wanted it. 

I do not regret it, well, maybe a little tiny bit because my bedtime blood sugar is a little high. And I didn't take a secondary Toffee walk, although I really should have. The night was beautiful. But it got to be 10, and that's get ready for bedtime time. 

Regretting not taking that second walk, sort of.

Also, I wasn't kidding the other day when I said I wouldn't Fall for False Fall. 

False Fall and Second Summer, will be followed by maybe real fall. But I bet Third Summer comes back too. 

Digits below.

digits

exercise: 12/12 hours. Treadmill run, 30 min/2.18 mi. 11k+ steps by bedtime

blood glucose: 

8:45am: 135
4:30pm: 105
10:30pm: 175

food & meds:

8:45am: jardiance & new meds
1:45pm: bowl of left over pot roast w/ a buttered roll; met+glip
3pm: new meds
4:30pm: handful of m&ms
6:30pm: pork loin, pierogis, peas
8pm: met+glip; last slice of apple pie w/whipped cream from the can
vodka & zero sugar cranberry