Full disclosure. I am going to admit straight off that this is a petty and immature post. I rarely feel this way, at least not anymore, but there’s something about being cooped up for weeks that has me tense and a bit ungrounded. I just had a video call with my doc and we are adjusting some of my medications. I’m having headaches every day, my blood sugars are off, blood pressure is a bit high, allergies are off the charts, trouble sleeping, mood is… meh.
She knows me well and says she believes most of my issues are stress related, other than the allergies. She did a little tweaking and doubled my anti-depressant. She wants me to increase my exercise. Yeah, me too. Who is this person who never had a depressed day in her life until discovery? Who am I?
Last week I ordered a couple masks in case I need to go out. I haven’t been in contact with the real world in 40 days. The masks are cloth, denim on one side and flannel on the other with adjustable straps. The company has moved their production to mask making only, and for every purchased mask, they donate a mask to a local care or medical center. I tried on the mask and took a selfie and posted it to Facebook and Instagram. There were a few comments about my eyes, because with the mask on, the eyes are pretty much all you see.
I am the brown-eyed girl who always wanted blue eyes. Green eyes are cool, and rare, and we have some green eyes in our family as well (Irish and Welsh ancestors), but blue eyes mesmerize me. There are lots and lots of blue eyes in my Swedish ancestry. Both the brother and sister I grew up with have blue eyes. A number of my half siblings have blue eyes. I wanted at least one of my kids to have blue eyes, because why not, their dad does? Nope. Brown eyes it is. Interestingly enough, all four of our parents have brown eyes… both my parents, and Blue Eyes’ parents. Eye color is such a strange thing.
So, here’s the petty part. Blue Eyes’ last sex partner has blue eyes. When I asked him what he said to her, you know, to keep her coming back regardless of how poorly he treated her, one of the things he told her was how much he loved her beautiful blue eyes. Bummer for me. It’s one of those things that sticks with me. In my darker days, I wanted to just scream…. if you fucking wanted someone with blue eyes, why didn’t you marry someone with blue eyes. So silly of me. Betrayal trauma makes us say and do the craziest things. The truth is, this woman is mean looking and has beady little eyes, but yes, they technically are blue.
The photo on top is one taken of her for a corporate website maybe 15 years ago. It is such a poor quality, but totally representative of her and the only photo accessible on the internet. You can’t tell her eyes are blue in the photo, but really, who cares. She’s mean looking. She stalked me for months. I don’t care if her eyes are unicorn purple with sparkly bits and rays of sunshine shooting out of them. She’s a mean and messed up woman. I hate that I even know this person exists. The photo of me was taken this morning with no make up and no alterations. I need a facial, oy!
Anyway, I needed to know all these awful things about my husband’s addiction, and betrayal, but I hate that I needed to know and I hate that evil things happened behind my back. I really hate that when someone compliments my eyes, it makes me think of how my husband told some other woman that she had beautiful blue eyes, and then had sex with her.
Thanks for letting me get this out and for not thinking badly of me… or if you do think badly of me, I hope that you at least understand that l have my reasons.