Expectation is the Seed of All Disappointment

How 3 Generations Suffered Depression Due to Expectations and Disappointment within a Family

Monday, November 25, 2019 5AM

I just awoke from a very strange dream. In the dream my aunt and uncle invited me to stay with them to finish writing my book. This may not sound very strange to people who don’t know me, but let me explain. I have an uncle, my father’s brother Jonathan Cole, but I have no relationship with him or his family and haven’t for some time now. The choice to cut ties with Uncle Jon was made in anger, but had been coming for a very long time. In the dream the whole family was gathered at the apartment of my Aunt and Uncle (not the actual apartment they live in but some fantastical apartment that doesn’t and couldn’t exist anywhere). It makes sense that I would dream of getting together at Uncle Jon’s this week, fore when I was a kid the whole family gathered at his NYC apartment for Thanksgiving for many years. It also makes sense that I dreamed of him specifically last night because yesterday was the 21st anniversary of when I shot myself… and Uncle Jon (and his family) did not come to visit me in the hospital after I survived the shooting.

One might assume, because of this dream, that I miss my Uncle… and I do, but not the man he became but rather the great man I once thought he was and I know that he could have been. This might sound ridiculous to people who know Jon as many think that he is a great man. He has been married to the same woman for close to 50 years. He has 2 fairly healthy children and 2 grandchildren. He was very successful monetarily… He is part of the 1%. He was successful in his career, being one of the longest serving Provosts of Columbia University. He has published several books and is considered such an expert on higher education that the Chinese Government hired him as a consultant and flew him to China to give advice on building the world’s largest and “best” public research university in the world. These all definitely sound like the trappings of a successful man in our society.

Stephen and Ann Cole with 3 day old Richard D. Cole
My mother and father with me at 3 days old. You can see that my father’s right shoulder is much higher than the left because of his Scoliosis.

I mentioned that I once thought Uncle Jon was a great man… and this was true, when I was a small child before my parents divorce. I thought the world of him but not because of the societal trappings of success that he now has and had started to gather back then. My father, Stephen Cole, was a sick man in many ways. He had a very bad curvature of the spine (Scoliosis) that ultimately caused him to lose almost 70% of his lung capacity. As a child I can remember that one shoulder was always significantly higher than the other. My father made enough money to afford custom made suits in which extra padding was added to the low side shoulder to make him appear “even.” Towards the end of his life there was no hiding the effects of the Scoliosis; he looked like a hunch back. My father also suffered from crippling arthritis at times and chronic migraine syndrome for most of his adult life. Overall, he wasn’t a “well man.” On top of his physical ailments my father was very narcissistic personally and competitive in his work. All of this meant that he never played ball with my brother or me. He didn’t take us to ball games. He didn’t encourage us to pursue things that we were interested in. He encouraged us to pursue the things that he had been good at… getting good grades and making money.

Jonathan R. Cole playing with catch with Richard D. Cole.
My Uncle Jonathan playing catch with me and comforting me when I got hurt. He must have brought the football because I don’t remember ever owning one as a kid.

When my uncle and his family would visit us out on Long Island he would play ball with me outside. I was too young to emotionally understand what I was thinking, but I elevated my Uncle to hero status because he wasn’t “sick” like my father. Uncle Jon doesn’t have scoliosis and stands over six feet tall. He is a handsome man. He was smart and well spoken… and much more soft spoken than my father, who had a tendency to be loud and aggressive in his speech (perhaps to make up for the fact that he was physically weak?). When I was a small child I can remember looking forward to seeing Uncle Jon and looking up to him so much.

When my parents separated and were getting divorced, Uncle Jon told me that if I ever needed someone to talk with or if I wanted to come visit in NYC… all I had to do was call and he gave me his number. But that turned out to be an empty promise. I reacted very negatively to my parents divorce. I was a problem angry kid prior to their divorce and only got worse through their dismantling of our family.

I remember that I tried talking to Jonathan a couple of times. He did not know how to deal with my anger; most people didn’t… and then he was gone. There were no invites to the city. There were no invites to join his family on vacation to the country, the Caribbean or Europe. He has had a house on Martha’s Vineyard for more than 20 years and never once has an invitation been offered even though he specifically said one would be. Invitations from Lena and me to come to our home in Rivertown were turned down. I expected my uncle to be present in my life and I was disappointed.

It wasn’t just me that was let down, Jonathan totally abandoned my brother; in some regards more so than me. My younger brother Walt, lived less than 20 blocks from our aunt and uncle in NYC all through high school and even closer during college… and during all of that time I don’t think Jonathan had Walt over for dinner once, other than the obligatory Thanksgiving get together. Walt went to Columbia University where Jon worked… and not one lunch or breakfast… not one cup of coffee. What kind of man does that? I expected my uncle to be there for Walt and was disappointed when he wasn’t. There’s no excuse, but it was indicative of a larger issue.

Uncle Jon, Nana and my father.

From the mid 1980’s until my father’s death last year there had been an ever deepening divide between the families of these two brothers (my father and uncle) who once were so close.

From what I have been told my father and his brother were very close all through college and graduate school. They both attended Columbia University at the same time. They both majored in sociology. They both went on to hey PhDs in sociology from Columbia studying under the same mentor, Robert K. Merton. Even at the beginning of their professional careers they remained close working together on research projects and books. “The Cole Brothers” were known as a formidable force!

Very early in his career (around 1969) my father left a tenure track position at Columbia and moved our to Long Island and started his career at The State University of New York at Stony Brook (which would later be renamed, Stony Brook University). I honestly am not sure why my father made this choice and he would come to dislike Long Island intensely later in life. He did become the youngest full professor in Stony Brook University’s history, and I believe he still hold this record to this day.

My mother after my birth, Joanna Lewis Cole, Jonathan R. Cole and Sylvia Cole
My mother after my birth, Joanna Lewis Cole, Jonathan R. Cole and Sylvia Cole, in Port Jefferson, NY

At this point the brothers were still very close… working together and visiting each other and their mother, who lived in Queens, often. When I started to write this blog post I dug through some old family albums that my mother has lent me in order for me to digitize them and found these photos from the year I was born. I have to admit that I was somewhat shocked or, perhaps more accurately… bewildered by the photo of my father holding me up to his face between him and my Aunt Joanna.

My father, me at 6 months old, and Aunt Joanna

As far back as I can remember, I have always felt that my Aunt Joanna didn’t like me. I can’t put a finger on exactly when I was aware of feeling this way as my childhood before the age of 10 is fairly blocked in my memory… but I always felt that she looked down on me or didn’t approve of me for some reason unbeknownst to me, as a child. As a young adult I was keenly aware that Joanna and her children did not care for me and at the time I thought it was because I was an unapologetic outspoken conservative. My uncle and his family were fairly liberal back then and only became more liberal as time went on.

My mother claims that when I was 7 or 8 at a family get together, I called my cousin Daniel a “fag.” I don’t remember this. If I did indeed do this I must have been mimicking my father, who didn’t really have anything against homosexuals but was just an ass. It was clear from a very young age that Dan was homosexual. His parents and my grandmother Sylvia, Nana, were all in denial until he came out of the closest some time in college or shortly thereafter. Once Dan came out he was 100% accepted by everyone in the family. Perhaps my uncle’s family thought I did not approve because I was a “conservative,” but nothing could have been further from the truth. In college I was a hardcore Libertarian style conservative and I couldn’t care less about anyone’s sexuality. My mother also claims that Jonathan and Joanna did not agree with how my mother and father were dealing with me being a “difficult child.” So, according to my mother, I was a significant factor in the dividing of these once so close brothers and their families.

Nick Grinder and Daniel Cole at the celebration of their marriage.

My father had a different point of view. My father had an expectation that Jonathan be grateful to him as my father attributed much of Jonathan’s success to himself. According to my father, Jonathan never would have finished his PhD if it had not been for my father’s help. Also, when my father left the tenure track position at Columbia University this opened that track up to Jonathan. There was very little chance that both brothers would have received tenured professorships at the same university. So from my father’s point of view all of Jonathan’s success at Columbia was to some extent because of my father’s actions. Jonathan couldn’t write a book on his own until he was in his 60’s. His last two books on higher education had little to no input from my father; and quite honestly… I have not read the latest book, but “The Great American University” is a steaming pile of shit, in my opinion. Regardless, my father felt (had the expectation that) Jonathan owed him a debt of gratitude that was never paid.

My father being the emotionally stunted individual he was allowed this disappointment to grow into resentment and this furthered the divide between the brothers and their families.

Sylvia Cole hoklding Richard D. Cole when he was just three days old.
Sylvia Cole (Nana) holding me when I was just 3 days old.

My father also had a very close relationship to his mother, my Nana. He would go into his office and call her for an hour every day. Nana came to visit us on Long Island often. We went to visit with her often at her apartment in Queens. I am named after my father’s father who died when my dad was only 19. Due to me being named after the love of her life and me being the first born grandchild, I was my Nana’s favorite… not that she didn’t totally dote on the other grand children, but we had a special relationship above and beyond what she had with the 3 other grandchildren. Eventually, my father and I both felt disappointed in how his brother and his family treated Nana. Nana had the expectation to be allowed to be present and appreciated in my uncle’s family. By the end of her life Nana too felt very disappointed by the behavior towards her by my Uncle Jonathan and his children.

Sylvia Cole (Nana) holding Daniel Cole in 1975
Sylvia Cole (Nana) holding Daniel Cole in 1975

Despite routine efforts on the part of my Nana to be part of lives of Daniel and Susanna, my uncle’s children/my cousins, she was routinely rebuffed and eventually almost totally excluded. Nana had the expectation that because she was their grandmother and that because she loved them, that they would love her back and want to include her in their lives. This expectations and resulting disappointment had the effect of causing my Nana severe emotional pain and depression. The older Daniel and Susanna got the less Nana heard from them or saw them. She was even excluded from Susanna’s wedding which took place right in NYC while she lived half an hour away in Queens. Multiplying the hurt was the knowledge that the grandchildrens’ other grandmother, Joan Lewis, was included in everything.

Susanna Cole Bach, Joan Lewis (the favored grandmother) and Daniel Cole
Susanna Cole Bach, Joan Lewis (the favored grandmother) and Daniel Cole

I can’t find the words to express how hurt my Nana was by the exclusion she felt coming from her own son’s family. She spoke to me about it often. She cried about this often. She would send the kids gifts and not even get a thank you. She wasn’t the only one treated this way. Neither my brother or I were invited to our cousins’ weddings. My aunt and uncle did have a get together at their apartment several months after Daniel and Nick got married and I was invited to that. I took a lot of very nice pictures of the party and offered them to Daniel and Nick as a kind of wedding gift. I did not get so much as a thank you email or call or anything. Furthermore, and perhaps more insulting… they never even looked at the photos. I put the photos in a password protected gallery on my website and I get notified when someone signs in… they never even signed in to look at the pictures. I tried repeatedly to connect with both of my cousins and was rebuffed every single time.

This blog post has gone on much longer than I had anticipated… The good news is that I have learned my lesson… I no longer have expectations of anyone because I realize that expectations almost always lead to disappointment… and with enough repeated disappointment leads to depression. When I married Lena in 2011 I told her point blank that we should not have expectations of one another. I said that the only expectation I had of her and she should have of me is that we not cheat on one another and that we don’t leave the relationship. I held up my end, she couldn’t live with just those expectations and apparently consistently felt let down by me and eventually asked for a divorce. Now I live a life where the only expectations I have are of myself. Period.

Deadman Dating? Part II

I’ll be 100% honest… the whole thought of dating makes me want to kill myself. I am well aware that I am not randomly going to run into “Ms. Right” in my day to day life. Because of where and how I live, online dating is really the only option. I have profiles on several sites, although I don’t pay for the premium services. I waste countless time actually reading profiles and flipping through hundreds of pictures. I am discouraged at the number of fugly women out there… sorry. Seriously, I am sorry. I 100% wish I were not so vain and superficial. I have married, and then been divorced from, 2 stunningly beautiful (on the outside) women. I know, without any doubt in my mind what-so-ever, that if I could fall in love with an ugly woman, my life would infinitely be better. I know this with zero doubt… but I just can’t. So, I swipe left… swipe left… swipe left….. Then….

Then, I come to a beautiful woman… and I just want to hang myself. Why? Am I not worthy of being with a beautiful woman? Would I not be appealing to a beautiful woman? Honestly… after everything that I have been through… I don’t know. I guess despite my outward bravado I must still have some insecurity. Why would a woman “like that” want to date me? What would I have to offer a woman “like that?”

Even if it’s not insecurity eating away at my sanity… there is a laziness factor that has come into play in my late 40’s. Do I really want to expend the time, energy and money to pursue a woman “like that.” Finding someone takes time. Wooing someone takes time. I am not looking for one night stands, so more time than one night is required. I often feel like I live on thin ice as it is… how much can I risk pursuing something that is probably doomed to start?

When I start to talk to a woman I have so many variables I need to keep track of. I don’t want to waste anyone’s time… so when do I reveal my psych history? Many women are immediately scared away from me because I have tried to kill myself in the past. I understand this. Other women have been attracted to me because I have tried to kill myself in the past — I have learned to be very weary of these women!!! They want to save me and no one can save anyone else!

On top of my psych history I have several physical ailments that can be an impediment to a relationship. I have Fibromyalgia. I have a degenerative joint and nerve disease. I have Afib. I have Irritable Bowel Syndrome and Spastic Colon which also gives me chronic gastritis! I have chronic migraine syndrome. I take Opioids and muscle relaxers every single day. Who the fuck wants to deal with all of that? I certainly hate having to deal with it!!!

I am lucky in one regard… most of the time I don’t mind being alone. In fact, I rather like my alone time. But there are some times when I feel lonely and wish I had someone to share my life with. About a year ago, I came up with a test for myself in terms of how much time I am willing to put towards dating… When I think I am lonely and wouldn’t life better with a girl friend… I watch some porn and jerk off — and after I cum I ask myself if I still really want a girl friend. Think about it… not a bad test! Unfortunately, recently the answer has been — definitely maybe. LOL.

Damaged Beyond Concern

I am forever damaged; yet, I live on.

The fact of the matter is that I have been damaged most of my life. So damaged, and recognized as so damaged ,that those who should have helped me or protected me didn’t. By the age of 15 I had been written off by family and school teachers and administrators.

May 28, 1987
While I was taking a shower tonight I thought of a solution to all of my problems. After I make love with Cat, and I am all happy and cheerful, I should kill myself. That way, at least, I will die happy. You know what they say, “Get out while the getting is good.”

Richard D. Cole, journal entry

In May and June of 1987 I had an affair with one of my high school teachers, Catherine Bishop, and more than a few people knew about it… and no one cared. Cat, as I called her, was twenty years older than me (making her the same age as my mother), was married and had two children, the oldest of which was only a couple of years younger than me.

My father knew. In his infinite wisdom he said, “You can’t rape a willing victim.” My mother knew… In fact, my mother claims to have had a phone conversation with Mrs. Bishop. I only heard of this phone conversation years later and have no idea about it, but she knew. I mentioned to my mother that I was writing this post about this relationship… and her response was, “Please don’t out her.” Think about that! Several male teachers at school knew. I remember them laughing and punching me in the arm and making comments to me about it.

I was on the school administration’s radar as a troubled kid. Apparently my Spanish teacher reported that I had a volatile temper and she didn’t want to be around me when I finally blew. She filed some kind of concern with my guidance counselor which resulted in my mother being called in to speak with the Assistant Principal for my grade, Mr. Claude Frank. I remember this meeting… Monday, June 1, 1987. Mr. Frank started to tell my mother about the schools concerns about me. My mother asked a few questions and Mr. Frank then made his fatal mistake… He told my mother that he and the other people at the school were “professionals” and she should let them deal with me without question from her and she should be a good little woman and make sure things were OK at home. Seriously, maybe not in those exact words, but my mother got the message… so she proceeded to rip Mr. Frank a new asshole… which totally got the meeting off the topic of me and my problems… and kept me out of trouble. I had zero respect for Mr. Frank for many reasons, but I do not believe he knew of the affair. I will give Mr. Frank credit as several years ago we reconnected briefly on Facebook and he apologized to me. He admitted that he did not have the knowledge or skills to deal with me or help me and admitted that he let me down. Not a lot of people, especially school administrators, admit their mistakes, so he gets credit for that!

Sunday, May 31, 1987

On Friday afternoon I came home right after Spanish. I quickly took a shower. I didn’t even dry myself off. I just put on my shorts. Then I waited.
At about 3PM Cat showed up. At first we talked and made out in the living room. She kept stroking my penis through my shorts… then we went up to my bedroom… After she left I just fell asleep. I was really exhausted! That night I was not sure how I felt. I was not angry. I was just so confused. Cat called because she was afraid that I might be angry…
Saturday night around 9 o’clock I took an orange juice glass and filled it with scotch and got bombed.
Today I went to the University to do some work. Cat came by at 12:30PM… I was sitting on a chair and she spread her legs and sat down on me… When we were done, as we were getting dressed, something happened inside of me. I got very angry. It was not just at Catherine but it concentrated on her, and she felt it. I feel badly because today when she left I think she was hurt. I don’t want to hurt her…. She told me that she thought she was falling in love with me.

Richard D. Cole, journal entry

So, why did no one care that a 15 year old student was having sex with his married 36 year old teacher? Maybe it was a sign of the times? After all, female teacher sex scandals didn’t really hit the public eye until 1998. The fact of the matter is that I did not see myself as a victim at the time and for many years afterwards. I thought I was having the time of my life and even when I was angry and depressed about the “relationship” I blamed myself, not the adult teacher. It wasn’t until I had a 15 year old step-son and one day looked at him and realized I was having sex with a teacher at the same age. It was only then that I really started seeing what happened as totally fucked up. I just think that I was such a screwed up kid that no one really cared what I was doing or with whom. I was damaged beyond the point of concern.

Mrs. Bishop’s inscription in my 1987 Ward Melville yearbook.
(I blanked out someone else’s quote. )

I ran into Mrs. Bishop while in college. We spoke and she apologized for what happened in high school. She claimed that she was an alcoholic and that she had been drinking when our “affair” happened. I do remember her bringing wine to one or two of our rendezvous, but she never smelled of alcohol or acted drunk, so I don’t know.

What Will It Take For Us To Wake Up?

I had suicidal ideation by the age of 10… meaning I was feeling sad, lonely and severely stressed and I saw my eventual death as an end to and preferable to the daily struggles I faced. But, even with suicidal ideation, or ideas of preferring death to life… it never occurred to me to actually end my life at the age of 10. My embracing the idea of death at such a young age use to put me as a far outlier in terms of society and how children thought and felt. Today we have 10 year old kids actually committing suicide.

Allison Wendel, age 10, committed suicide.

Two days ago it was reported that a 10 year old girl was found dead after committing suicide. Read that again… a 10 year old girl was found dead after committing suicide. Bullying is rumored to have played a role in her suicide. Suicide is the second leading cause of death for teenagers in the United States.

https://www.fox5dc.com/news/10-year-old-girl-dies-by-suicide-in-santa-ana-prompting-police-investigation-into-bullying-rumors?fbclid=IwAR0O5mPz9_goWiU-MR2k-DtomndaWFjK7Z0iq0mhw2093dnud-wIY33eGH8

This 2010 CDC brief lists suicide as the 3rd leading cause of death for teens in the US behind homicide and “unintentional injury.”

https://www.cdc.gov/nchs/products/databriefs/db37.htm

By 2017 suicide had surpassed homicide to become the 2nd leading cause of death for teens in the US.

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2019-10-17/suicide-rates-for-u-s-teens-and-young-adults-on-the-rise

The suicide rate among people ages 10 to 24 years old climbed 56% between 2007 and 2017, according to the report from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

https://www.wsj.com/articles/youth-suicide-rate-rises-56-in-decade-cdc-says-11571284861

This country needs to wake the fuck up! We need to realize that despite all of our “modern advances” children are just as cruel, if not more so, than they have always been. In fact, some of these so called advances probably play a significant role in the increased suicide rates of teens… Specifically I am referring to social media. When I was a kid we may have had to deal with a bully in a certain class or during recess, but when we went home the bully wasn’t there. With the advent of social media the bullies can be present 24/7 creating an inescapable stress bomb that pushes many kids to killing themselves or killing others.

Bullying isn’t the only ill of social media. Children today become obsessed with the number of “likes” they get on Instagram. Imagine thinking of killing yourself because you didn’t get enough likes on a photo… WTF? The social pressures created by social media are huge and potentially deadly.

We as a society also need to finally admit that the current medical model for depression and suicide just doesn’t work. Taking a little yellow pill isn’t going to fix what’s wrong despite this messaging from Big Pharma for the past 30 years. Doctors and pharmaceutical companies have gotten rich off of our misery and what they offer DOES NOT WORK!

Neuroscientists who study suicide and depression have known for 10+ years that SSRI “antidepressants” do not work. There have been books and numerous articles published about the false claims made by SSRI manufacturers. There have also been numerous articles written about things that do work, or at least work better than SSRIs… such as working out 3x a week. Yes, working out for half an hour 3x a week works better than taking an SSRI if you are depressed.

For Depression, Prescribing Exercise Before Medication
Aerobic activity has shown to be an effective treatment for many forms of depression. So why are so many people still on antidepressants?

https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2014/03/for-depression-prescribing-exercise-before-medication/284587/

Here is an interesting article from the Mayo Clinic about exercising and depression/anxiety…

https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/depression/in-depth/depression-and-exercise/art-20046495

There is much more that is wrong with the current medical model of suicide and I will continue to discuss this in my next post… but for now, we as a society need to decide if we care that our children are killing themselves at an alarming and ever increasing rate… and if we do care and want to change it, we as a society are going to have to face some hard truths and fight powerful entities that have made alot of money off the current model.

Sedated Nation


Twenty twenty twenty four hours to go
I wanna be sedated
Nothing to do, no where to go o,
I wanna be sedated


I Want to be Sedated, The Ramones (1978)

Most people are familiar with the chorus of “I Want to be Sedated,” perhaps the most famous song of punk rock band The Ramones. This song debuted in 1978 and it seems that America took this on as the new national anthem. Joey Ramone wrote the song in response to the band being overworked by an overzealous manager. Ramone claimed to have worked 360 of 365 days that year.

What is it about life in America that has people so desperate to tune out? Drug and alcohol abuse continues to climb. Suicide rates have gone up significantly in recent years. Why are Americans so unhappy?

Think about these facts:

Book Review: “Serotonin: Prevent Depression, Lose Weight, and Improve Your Health and Happiness”

Customer Review

on June 26, 2018
Very repetitive. The author states the same things dozens of times in a row. The book reads more like a stream of consciousness than a thought out and planned book. The author offers many OPINIONS about serotonin but offers no references to back up claims.

Lena’s Perspective

Many people ask me why my marriage to Lena failed. We seemed so happy and so in love to many people. Sometimes, looking back on the marriage I have a hard time clearly stating what went wrong or why we couldn’t make it. I always tell people that we did love one another very much… at least I know that I loved her with all my heart. I try to not paint a negative picture of Lena… part of me will always love her.

Below is a free flow writing that Lena shared with me after our first separation but after we had agreed to reconcile. I recognize a lot of what she writes about and certainly validate her feelings. There are some point which I feel would look much different in context and several of the point require more back story. None-the-less, here is why the marriage didn’t work from Lena’s perspective.

*****************************************************
From: Lena Cole
Date: October 24, 2017
Subject: I’m sorry and I love you

The kids winter concerts, always angry never smiling always bitter, focused on Richard’s discomfort with people rather than kids. Kids felt it , I felt it. Kids were little, and no the concerts weren’t great, but couldn’t give them the reinforcement they were looking for. You guys did awesome even if they squeaked the whole time. Not something he can do. Something I noticed and so did the kids. I compensated. Always had the attitude that he had to withhold compliment until somebody did something amazing. He could never just give praise. Praise had to be earned, but for ages 6-10 kids shouldn’t have to work so hard to get praise from their stepdad. I shouldn’t have to work so hard to get praise form my husband. Lots of holier than thou attitude with little to show for it. Kids an I learned to live without it. Yes more independent and yes less needy of attention from anyone and yes more confident in our own abilities , but resulted in a lot of disconnect from Richard. Richard’s opinions good or bad became irrelevant.

Music. Kids and I were made to feel like our tastes were inferior. Richards taste in the classics and old school music was the one and only right thing to listen to. All others were made to feel less important less enjoyable, just less…This went so far that , it was a contentious point repeatedly during car rides,…suggestions were made to isolate Richard from the rest of us. Sound proof walls, dungeons in the basement. Live with us, but isolate…no compromise, blasting music from the basement, wanting to run away trying to keep the peace between my husband trying to be state his will and my children being children and not understanding this person I brought into the house.

TV, Richard gets to choose…everything else kills brain cells, with the exception of sponge bob. Sponge bob was Richard approved. Now kids isolate to their rooms and Richard can watch Archie Bunker and all sitcoms from the 70s to his hearts content.

Weekends, Westchester suburbia…the mall, the drivers, the judgment all the time of the golden hoochies. Not liking anyone finding fault with everyone. Vocalizing that in front of the kids. Anti Rivertown, anti-school, anti –parents of many of ht e kids friends, anti-teachers in Rivertown. All the political rants, some of which made it to the kids, pinkos and commies…words my kids did not learn from me

The basement, is Richard coming? Is he coming out with us? Not going places not making plans, not having friends over because they were liberals. Richard sitting with his mouth shut and fake smile or no smile, starting at phone or behind camera . Disengaged. People asking me? Is he OK? He’s fine…in pain..stomach hurts…didn’t sleep…migraine. Always making excuses for the pained expression and the lack of engagement. Embarrassed hurt

Sex…would like to orgasm without masturbating. Take the time, show me you love me enough to learn my body

Work, money…the sentiment of being retired, of not being marketable of not wanting to work and not wanting to try
Of being satisfied without income, of being satisfied with me covering everything. Not willing to try not willing to do anything to keep us afloat. Not finishing anything. NO results, damaged relationships with everyone that can provide money.

Attitude of a porcupine

Feeling alone with him or without him

And I am the Mentally Ill One?

A wide variety of people keep telling me that I should “just get over” Lena.  They act as if there is something wrong with me because I am “still” sad about our marriage ending.  I was with Lena for eight years.  What is an appropriate amount of time to be sad over the marriage ending?  Is there some cut off date after which I should not cry when I hear a love song that makes me think of her?  Is there some predetermined amount of time, that no one has told me about, when it is no longer socially acceptable to be sad over such things?

A friend of mine even suggested I watch a TED Talk by Guy Winch entitled, “How to Heal a Broken Heart.”  Winch says that brain imaging studies have shown that suffering from a broken heart is physiologically the same as drug withdrawal.  Winch continues on with his advice for healing a broken heart: make a list of all of the bad things about your ex and keep them on your phone… Every time you start to think positive thoughts about them, which he calls “romanticizing them,” look at your phone to remind yourself of the truth — all of the bad things.

Based solely on this video, I think Guy Winch is an ass.  I have heard others make similar claims about brain scans and breakups drawing analogies to drugs.  I, personally, don’t think everything can be broken down to biological explanations.  If we take this assertion at face value, we would have to draw the conclusion that love is bad and should be avoided.  If being in love can lead to “withdrawal” on the same level as illicit drugs, it seems rational to avoid being in love.  I have argued many times with other “experts” about the biological basis of psychology… I don’t buy it.  My second issue with Winch is his advice… write a list of all the horrible things about your ex to help you get over them.  This idea totally discounts the fact (at least I think it’s a fact) that love is not logical.  I wrote out a list of all of Lena’s “negatives” and all of the reasons we were “not right” for one another.  You know what?  It did not change the fact one fucking bit that I loved her!  Love is not logical.  I am sure it was not logical for Lena and I to get married.  I know for a fact that her mother gave her many reasons why I was a bad choice for her.  I could easily come up with a list of why I am a bad choice for anyone.  I was perfectly aware of reasons why she wasn’t “perfect” even when I was actively falling in love with her.  If healing a broken heart was as easy as making a shit list about the ex… then maybe it wasn’t really love to start with.

I fully realize that we live in a disposable society.  Your TV breaks, don’t fix it… throw it out and buy a new one.  Your oven breaks, don’t fix it… throw it out and buy a new one.  Many people, who can afford to, even treat cars this way… Oh the car has 50,000 miles… better get rid of it and buy a new one.  And… now… we treat relationships the same way.  Your marriage is “broken,” don’t worry… throw it out and get a new one.  Think I am over simplifying?  Look on Amazon for books on divorce.  They are almost all written for women… and they all seem to be saying that divorce is the woman’s answer to all of life’s ills.

This first book almost made me want to commit hara kiri!  It’s all about the “sisterhood of divorce.”  Seriously. Vomit.

“For the more than one million women who get divorced each year, welcome to your support group… Wise, comforting, and uplifting, The Optimist’s Guide to Divorce captures the experience of sisterhood through the voices of its authors and their community of women in the Maplewood Divorce Club”

Crazy Time offers a sense of hope and confidence that this transition is not only an ending but can also be a valuable beginning.”

Here’s a guide on “protecting your financial future,” i.e. How to screw your husband financially.

“Begin your single life knowing you have made the thoughtful decisions required to help establish your long-term financial security.
Think Financially, Not Emotionally® as you look ahead to a bright future for yourself and your children. ”

I have always said that unfortunately we humans only grow through the negative experiences in our lives.  But, does that mean we should create negative experiences just to grow?

“Deb Purdy provides a welcomed road map for transforming the trauma of divorce into a positive, life-changing experience. As a marriage and family therapist, I highly recommend this book to anyone dealing with emotional challenges after divorce.” Dan Valentine, Ph.D.

What ever happened to the value of working things out?  Is there no value in staying with someone through the good times and the bad?  Why do we even keep those words in wedding vows when they seem to have no meaning what-so-ever today.  I don’t like our throw away society whether it’s about material items or especially people.  I don’t want to be the kind of person who can just get over an 8 year relationship like it’s a busted toaster.  Seriously… that’s how people talk to me… as if I should just move on as if it were nothing.  Many people in our society seem to act like this.  Half of all marriages end in divorce.  Sixty percent of second marriages end in divorce.  The majority of kids I know are the kids of divorce.  All of this despite research showing that marriage makes for healthier adults and healthier children.  But I am the mentally ill one because I don’t want to “just move on.”