Category Archives: The Future
Have you ever had this urge to scrap everything and do something entirely different with your life? Something so different it rates as impossible rather that merely improbable. I have done this. I met someone and after only six months of dating, and most of that dating was via Skype, I married the guy. It didn’t work out for me and I’m faced with rebuilding my life,but I don’t regret taking the risk. I only regret that I didn’t manage the risk a bit better. I am the textbook reason prenuptial agreements need to exist. But…I took the risk, it failed, but I don’t regret the experience and adventure that it was at all. My dream was to travel and live abroad. I did that. In the process, I learned a ton about how to schedule flights so that you never miss one, which airports to avoid and which are better for making connections. I learned how to schedule a trip across the pond (either direction) in order to minimize jet lag. I’m still working on learning to travel light, but I’ve made vast improvement in that area over the last year. Most importantly, I’ve gone from thinking I should maybe give up my dreams to being confident that they will come to pass no matter how outlandish, impossible or impractical they might seem to me now. I mean, I’ve had plenty of dreams over the last six years come true. Why should that momentum end now? Read the rest of this entry
2:23 a.m. The big projects I was working on have come up to their deadline. Proposals submitted, bids received, offers accepted, contracts signed. Two out of three of the projects were successful, the third, a surprising disappointment in some ways. This third project, was not the most profitable one, so having to go back to the drawing board on this is not a horrible defeat. For me, it means, I get to return home during my evenings. I get to spend time with my kids. I get to live a bit more normal life. Which means, I’m wide awake at 2:23 a.m., for no apparent reason.
Mr. Just Right, from my last post, ended up pushing our meet up for cocktails on Wednesday to dinner and a movie Sunday evening. He showed up, promptly at 5:30 p.m. While he’s wonderful enough on paper, I knew immediately that he wasn’t Mr. Just Right after all. I don’t usually know this right away, but this time, I did. Maybe it was the fact that even though he’s only a few years older than me, he looked as frail and hunched over as my 90-year-old grandma used to look, when she was 90 years old. Not that I judge people entirely on how they look, but let’s face it: when you’re looking for a romantic partner, you have to, at least, be attracted enough to want to get romantic. I knew instantly that this was not going to get romantic. I also knew instantly that this was going to be a very long evening. Fortunately, much of it was going to be a movie, but I had to get through dinner first.
They started again. The moving dreams. They are all similar, some of them even repeat certain elements while varying others. Each time they occur they tend to signal some sort of transition, either one I’m going through, one I’m considering, or one I’m completely unaware that is happening or soon to occur. I had no memory of this dream upon waking this morning. It came back to me, in full detail much later in the day, as I was sitting in traffic, of all places. It was so surreal, I was tempted to close my eyes and relive the dream.
My oldest daughter is heading back to college to finish out her junior year in just a few days. There are many things to be done. She is a list maker. Lately, as her personal stress begins to mount, she’s taken to vocalizing these lists. I find it interesting to note, that she repeatedly mentions two things. She reminds us all, that we still have to do our White Elephant Gift Exchange. (No, we haven’t done that yet. It’s been tough to get everyone together the last few days.) My daughter is also insistent upon creating her New Year’s Resolutions for 2012. This year, I just don’t share her enthusiasm.
When parents divorce in my county, if there are children involved, the parents are required to take a class that deals with the issue of helping children through divorce. It’s not a horrible class ,but it is required. The judge will not award a decree unless both parents take the class. I signed up and took the class as soon as I could after filing for divorce from The Evil Ex.
I remember the class well. I was there, fighting back tears and doing my level best to appear calm and well-adjusted, in spite of feeling like I might, at any second, dissolve into a liquid mass of human saltwater. I signed in, took my gratuitous paperwork, got some awful coffee, and found a seat near the side of the room toward the front. Shortly, after I sat down, a man entered. He looked like your typical geeky professor type. He strode up to the woman at the sign in desk and announced, “I’m being voted off the island, and I hear I have to take this class, so here I am.”
So much for feeling miserable. I couldn’t stop chuckling about it each time I thought of it for a good year afterward. Humor has a way of numbing the pain sometimes.
This week, I’ve been fortunate. I’ve been able to work. I have a job that allows me a great deal of time off each year. This is not paid time off, but it is still time off. Because my job is so demanding and stressful during the rest of the year, I loathe working during these off times. This year, due to medical expenses from my cancer treatments and the gradual drain of the Non-Boyfriend on my pocketbook, I decided to sign up to work five weeks this summer. This week was week three. It’s been wonderful to have something to go do each day that helps me forget that I am being voted off my own island.
On Tuesday of this week, the Non-Boyfriend and I voted each other off the relational island. Later that day, one of my colleagues began sharing at break, how his wife of 27 years just voted him off the marital island this last May. (I did not start talking about my situation. He brought up the topic all on his own.) He is still reeling from the shock and surprise and grief that comes from being blindsided. I can relate.
I mentioned a few posts back how I changed my status on Facebook to single right after I realized that the Non-BF had been planning a secret escape from our crumbling island. It wasn’t long before I had friends commiserating with me digitally, offering their condolences. Many contacted me privately. Some of these folks are single eligible men. One of them is a person I “met” digitally about four years ago through a blog I was writing at that time. He lives on the other side of the country, and even though I’ve long since stopped writing on that other blog, he’s kept in touch through Facebook. We’ve never met in real life. He, too, was just voted off the island of relational bliss.
Yesterday, he mentioned flying out to see me at the holidays. We will both be sans children and negotiating a “couples” holiday season alone. Neither of us is looking forward to it. Now, I’m fairly certain this will not happen, but I do find it interesting how things in life can conspire to distract me from the pain I am dealing with. Random little interactions like this tend to be like the emotional epidural that completely knocks out the pain of the relational rejection I’m birthing. You can still feel the pressure, but the pain is not there. I’ve been voted off the island by one particularly unhappy individual through no fault of my own, really, unless finally saying no to mistreatment is a fault. Less than 48 hours later, I have people entering my life inviting me to visit their little island for a bit.
No, I’m not going to stay long on any of these islands. I will most certainly not even spend the night. I am not ready for that. But, I ask you what is the harm of stopping by someone’s island for an afternoon of friendship, sun, and maybe even some libations? Can anyone refuse an invitation to spend a day at the beach with fun companions?
I was voted off an island I didn’t realize was crumbling. Maybe it is time for me to realize that there are possibly much bigger, stronger, more enjoyable islands out there.
Have you ever in your life thought of just quitting everything, packing things up (or getting rid of them), and starting life over somewhere else doing something else? A new place; a new life; a new history to look back on?
I have several friends, myself included, with college-age children. The kids are heading off to college. They are traveling; moving across the nation in some cases, to begin the next step in their lives. I sometimes, no, often, wonder what it would have been like to go back and do life differently. I sometimes also wonder if it is getting to be too late for me to do some of the things I’d really like to still do. Like live and work in the city. The real city, not just the smallish one I live in now, which is more like a bunch of overgrown towns pushing at each other than a real city. With a skyline. And a waterfront.
A friend of mine is making her dreams come true. She and her sister are combining households, saving money and in the next year or two, they will move to France, where my friend says she hopes to live until she dies. You can read about their journey at Lipstick And Baguettes. A dream like this is amazing to me, but to do it requires more than I can ask of my children right now.
I wonder if I will ever travel out of the country. If I do where will I go? Sometimes, though I am content with my existence, I feel as though nothing will ever change, no matter how much I might like it to or try to make it something different. On the the other hand it is wonderful where I am, and I think I could stay here forever. At the same time, I know I don’t really want to.
Of course, right now, nothing looks great. Everything is crummy because I don’t feel well. I’ve missed a perfectly grand, sunny weekend being sick with this cold. I had the The Hesitant Boyfriend go out and get me some NyQuil. I’m pretty glad he didn’t hesitate on that. Seems like it might be time to take another dose.