I haven’t always lived in the big city. In fact, I don’t live in a big city now, I live on the very edge of a little city. It is, as cities go, a very cool, trendy, hipster-y, micro-brew loving kind of city, but it is not overwhelmingly large. In fact, it is very easy to navigate, even for the non-local. But it is, very definitely a city. If the skyline doesn’t prove it, the traffic does.
“You’ll get tired of the traffic,” I was warned.
“Eighth most congested city in the nation,” I was informed.
“Ugh,” one friend sighed. “Traffic into the city is always bad and 217 is always horrible, even on weekends…especially on weekends.” Read the rest of this entry
Yes. I’ve been dating again. It’s proof positive that I am clearly not well. After all, my divorce isn’t even final. Never mind that my soon-to-be (or maybe not-so-soon depending on the length of the legal battle our attorneys wage) ex hasn’t spoken to me in nearly seven months. It’s been over half a year since he ghosted me. If being able to deal with being ghosted is a requirement to re-entry into the dating world, then I believe I’m as ready as anyone. I certainly have plenty of experience there. I’m not ready for relationship and I know it. My reasons for “dating” are not to pursue relationship so much as it is to provide a distraction from the loneliness and pain I’m feeling about the way my marriage has disintegrated. Read the rest of this entry
I remember clearly the last time I was on an amusement park ride. It was not a pleasant experience. It was one of those rides that throws you through the air and swings you side to side roughly, abruptly changing directions so suddenly and with such force that you wonder if your internal organs have departed your body. Then you immediately wonder how can the mechanics of this ride sustain such momentum and force. When will that one bolt work it’s way loose. When will my chair…or my daughter’s chair in front of me…be the one to go flying wildly into the air as if forcefully flung from the contraption. I remember gritting my teeth, dreading every moment, wondering when the ride would end. My daughter on the other hand reveled in the moment.
It was the last amusement park ride I ever rode.
I learned something about myself that day. I learned, I don’t really like amusement park rides. Not even the tame ones. Too much of my psyche is preoccupied with enduring the experience. There’s no enjoyment. Even more of my energy is consumed with fretting about that one in one hundred billionth chance that something will go desperately wrong.
Then, of course, there is the time and expense. At many amusement parks, you pay a premium for a two minute ride. And…you stand in line for a very long time for that short ride. Even at a small county fair, you can expect to pay way too much for way too little in terms of entertainment time. And then what? When it’s all over, you are broke and miserable, with nothing but a bad memory to show for it. At least, that’s my experience.
No matter how many rides I go on or how many different venues I experience it’s always the same.
It’s interesting how similar my experiences with marriage are to amusement park rides.
About two years ago, I published a post on this blog about meeting this great guy. I published a post or two a bit later about marrying that guy and leaving my life as I had known it to live with him overseas. He worked overseas as a contractor and the plan was that I would move with him and live with him where he worked. It was a wonderful fairy tale story except that it was real and it was happening to me. I was going to be able to fulfill a lifelong dream of living abroad, being able to write and not have to deal with the stresses of my career. I was marrying a man I loved and who loved me. It was going to be great.
Except…it wasn’t great. Read the rest of this entry
And then there was the evening when I finished off the last of the whiskey, drained the vodka, emptied the tonic and ran out of ice. The gin had been ingested and digested a week ago. I was determined to stop with the evening cocktail or glass of wine and get up the next morning and complete a full workout. I was going to do it. I wasn’t in the mode of telling myself “I should do this for me.” I was in the frame of mind (which is difficult to muster artificially) that “I was going to do this thing.” That “I could do this thing and I could start whatever I needed to start, change whatever I needed to change and I would not quit until I had achieved it.” So, after finishing off a very small whiskey on the rocks, I went to bed determined to get up and get started on my new life.
This, after completely gorging on dinner that evening.
This, after saying a thousand times I was going to start only to start and fall off the wagon or skip the exercise or eat the pasta again and again and again.
But this time it was different. There was no mental waffling or fear of failure. It was a solid way of thinking. It was going to happen, and I was going to do it. Read the rest of this entry
Transitions have always been difficult and often turbulent for me. In my last position, in the last two years before I ended up on what amounts to an extended (maybe permanent?) vacation, I remember it taking me a good month before I felt like I had control of my schedule so that I knew when and where I needed to be at what times and could make arrangements for the kids. Since the children were older, these arrangements largely meant making sure I had food in the refrigerator for them and that they knew what time to expect me home and where to reach me in an emergency. It just always seems to take so long for me to feel like the transition is finally our life. But we made it through that transition and before I knew it I was busier and more stressed than I ever imagined possible. There’s a point to where trying to achieve too much is just…too much. Read the rest of this entry
I started writing this blog, because I figured if I was awake maybe putting some of my worries and rants down in print might help me dish off some anxiety. I hoped maybe it would allow me to work through some of the stress and tension I experienced on a daily basis. I certainly wasn’t having any success tossing and turning at night. I usually ended up exhausted from the ordeal of attempting to force sleep. So, I started writing down what bothered me, or stressed me out, or sometimes what interested me. When I first started this blog, I was living with a man that was a sorry mess. As I look back on my life, there are a few episodes I wish I could completely erase. This man was one of them.
As the relationship unwound, I found myself filled with anxiety and I brought that anxiety here. I also found myself awake at night worried about my career and supporting my family. In those days, I was struggling financially, after a divorce where I ended up with ALL the marital debt. That was my reward for marrying a man who never paid his bills. I worried about everything. It kept me up. I ranted through it all here. My life is in a very different place than when I began this blog almost four years ago. Read the rest of this entry
Why haven’t I stopped in, stayed a while, and rambled on here since last July?!!!
It isn’t because I don’t like it here. I love this place.
It isn’t because I’ve been sleeping the whole night through. I haven’t.
It isn’t because I have nothing to write about. Oh, that is most certainly not the case.
The truth is this: I’ve been so stinking busy with real life, that I haven’t had a moment to render my version of this crazy life into written prose…until now.
Let’s get caught up, shall we?
In my last post, which was just over a year ago, I wrote about three men that I was, well, for lack of a better term, talking to. It was a bit more than discussion for each of these, but a LOT less than actual dating. I don’t know exactly where that put these interactions…and I no longer care. In that post, I mentioned Man #1, Man #2, and Man #3. I know, it sounds a lot like Let’s Make A Deal. What’s behind door number 1? Yeah, whatever.
As if dating were that easy. Read the rest of this entry
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.