Wednesday, December 23, 2015

It's funny (not funny ha ha), how so many of us have heavy hearts this Christmas.
Mourning the loss of someone, or something... A spouse, a daughter, a father.. A job, an opportunity, a relationship with a friend... The loss of a moment, a thing, a person...
For some, it's a quiet, tempered kind of mourning. Something they've lived with for a while, grown accustomed to. A mourning that has always been there, lingering in the corners of their life, that just kind of grows a little bigger around the holidays. For others, it's new, and tragic, and terrible, the loss of someone (or something) they love, right before the holidays, changing the way they feel about this season for the rest of their lives..
Heavy hearts this Christmas, and every Christmas, for so many...
I'm not going to write about how to "fix" it. I have no advice, no words of wisdom or hope. I'm not going to write about how to approach the holidays with a different outlook, a happier heart, a sense of faith or gratitude or healing or joy. Because I don't know how. I don't know how to write about it, and I certainly don't know how to actually do it. I wouldn't know the first step, let alone, how to complete the task.
Besides, you can find those words of hope and healing and joy in just about every article floating around the internet right now. Go read one of those, cause I got nuthin'.

I'm a member of the holiday heavy hearts club, for my own reasons. Even if I didn't have "reasons", I think I'd still be a member. The holidays cause me to be so melancholy..

The holidays are never the same when you've lost a loved one. Especially someone close to you; a parent, a child, a spouse... I miss my father. He loved Christmas, even if he was a grouch. He loved to buy for my mother. Even if it was something he shopped for on Christmas eve at Rite Aid. Sometimes it was something he planned well in advance. He could be very creative, that one. Sometimes it was something extravagant and way outside of their budget... Like the time he brought home a new car on Valentine's day, and Mom made him take it back. He was a funny one..
And I miss him so. Every day.

And then I think of my cousin Rebecca. Only 42 years old. My age. Gone, just like that, five days before Christmas. I think of her children, her husband, her mother.. She was such a wonderful soul. A beautiful woman, inside and out. Strong, lovely, smart, creative, spirited.. So unfair. Rebecca lost her 21 year old son Nick this summer to a car accident. How much tragedy that family has already suffered, and now Rebecca.. taken by a heart attack at 42. Five. friggin. days. before Christmas.
I will never understand the cruelty that this life possesses. I hear people suggest that everyone has an appointed time, everyone gets called at some point, God has a plan, life has a plan, bla bla friggin bla... Yeah, well I call bullshit. It's not some master plan. It's life. And it's goddamn friggin cruel.

And I think of my sister. How she was my best friend. I mean, truly.  How we haven't spoken in nearly two years. Aside from her, I have perhaps two close friends. But even those women I talk to infrequently, and rarely see. My sister was my first (and closest) best friend.. well, after she grew up and stopped being a pain in my ass. My mother is always asking me to affect a change. Make amends. And perhaps I could. Or perhaps it wouldn't be effective at all, even if I tried. Perhaps, this is our future, my sister's and mine. Perhaps some day I will stop being stubborn, and find out. Some day. Perhaps.

And I think of the life I'm living. How different it is from the life I was living. Or, how different it is from the life I expected, rather. And it's mine, this life. So one would think, and even advise- it is your lifeyou have the power to change it, make it the life you expected... But.. How? I don't believe in fate, I don't believe that anything is predetermined. But I do feel that much of it is beyond my control. How ironic.
But, to the contrary, much of my life has been largely born out of personal choice.
Always questioned, never sure of, often regretting, constantly wondering.. But, personal choice. And what good is personal choice, when you're simply never sure?

Ahhhh... The Christmas funk, the Christmas crash, and then the New Years blues...
I will be glad when this particular time of year has passed.

Sunday, December 20, 2015

Sunday morning coffee and blogging, since I'm desperately looking for distractions from Christmas shopping...

Seriously, though.. I need to stop shopping. I lack control. Christmas is a killer for me financially, every. single. year. Perhaps that's part of the reason I have three ex-husbands.
I'm going to complain about finances, and you can all say the same thing I've said to myself- Well, Crista, if you hadn't spent so much money on Christmas, you wouldn't be in this position. I know, I know. So, maybe I won't complain about the electric bill, the cell bill, the cable bill, the propane bill, all sitting on my dining table, waiting to be paid out of the small savings account that was supposed to buy new tires for my truck. Oh wait, I think I just complained about it. Ok, say it with me now... Well, Crista, if you hadn't spent so much money on Christmas, you wouldn't be in this position...
Moving on.

Aside from the potential financial crisis (say it with me now... Well, Crista, if you hadn't spent so much money on Christmas, you wouldn't be in this position), I am actually looking forward to Christmas. I am happy to have been able to buy some very nice gifts for my children. Yes, Christmas is not about presents, it's not about the commercialized crap, blah blah blah... But if you have children, you know the deal. Buying for them is important, regardless of all those idealistic philosophies. Yes, I believe that Christmas is about more.. it's about family, being grateful, about the love and the spirit.. And, about presents for my kiddos. But even as excited as I am for Christmas, I am also melancholy. I am sad a lot, actually. Most of the time, really. About a lot of things. I am a happy-sad person, always. Conflicted, constantly.
I digress...
It does feel a bit different this year. Ok, a lot different.
It's just Dawson and I this year. No siblings, no spouse, no cats and dogs... I mean, I'll see all my extended family on our Christmas gathering, so we will have that. And Mom and Logan are coming Christmas eve day, so we'll have that as well. But, you know what I mean. Christmas is very different for us this year. Life, in general, is very different for us.
Moving on.

It's a little under a year before the presidential election. Dear Lord, please help me to maintain all of my friendships for the next 11 months.

I have several days off this week. What will I do with myself???? Well, I'll still be doing bar banking and liquor orders and such, two days this week, but I don't actually get back behind the bar again until Saturday. I offered to open later Christmas day. Mainly to give myself something to do, since Daws will be going back to his Dad's at noon. But we are going to be closed Christmas day. It's probably best. But, but, but... What will I do???? Sigh.
Netflix. Food. Couch. Pajamas. On Christmas day. Probably a recipe for a mini pity party.

I throw those parties for myself a lot lately.
Life is funny. Not funny ha ha. It's the strangest feeling, to live every day, not knowing what your future looks like. When you used to just know what it looked like. Or at least assumed, kind of subconsciously, what it looked like... In your home, or at your job, or with your partner.. Not knowing what the future looks like, I mean- truly being highly aware of it's uncertainty, is one of the strangest, most foreign, and scariest feelings ever.
Moving on.

Watching Daws play basketball this year has been one of the funnest things in life so far. Everything about it is fun. Watching him, watching all the boys he's grown up with... They are all so good to each other. Their attitudes, their great sportsmanship, their support of one an other.. As they were complimented at an away game recently- They sure are classy. And Daws has come so far. He's gaining more confidence, improving his skills, and having fun. I am so glad I made him stick with it. I think he probably is too.

Earlier this week I watched a special on one of the morning shows about list making. Not like grocery lists, or to-do lists.. but lists with more meaning.. Bucket lists, wish lists, etc etc etc... And they had a funny list too, a "Things to do when hell freezes over" list... And so I thought it would be fun to do...
I invite you to make one, too. It's actually quite entertaining, and a little bit therapeutic. One may not know exactly what they want in the moment, or in life, but one thing (some things) we do know, are the things we don't want. It's kind of the reverse way of figuring out what you do want. If that makes any sense at all. Somehow, it does to me.
So without further ado, my personal "Things To Do When Hell Freezes Over" list...
(And just so we're quite clear, when hell freezes over, meaning, I'll never, ever, ever do.. Funny, or comical. Sorry, not sorry. At all, really)

Things to do When Hell Freezes Over:

Quit drinking coffee
Drink decaf coffee
Do drugs (not that I haven't, because I have, I just won't go back there)
Get on a plane
Quit swearing
Get on a cruise ship
Vote to legalize (sorry, not sorry)
Stop singing
Stop touching/slapping people's butts
Live as an alcoholic
Live with an alcoholic (or addict of any kind)
Stop farting
Apologize for farting
Apologize for anything, really (Ok, maybe if it's a life or death situation, I will)
Make Nana J's homemade, three hour stuffing again. Ever, ever, ever.
Live in another property that doesn't allow pets
Stop eating bacon
" " pizza
" " chocolate
Shave my legs every day (sorry, not sorry)
Vote for Trump
Vote Republican (sorry, not sorry)
Grow up
Be an active participant at a nude beach
Stop coloring my grays
Compromise my principles
Stop spending so much money at Christmas time

And with that, I will close. I should probably go do laundry, or dishes, or something productive. Stay off Amazon. Maybe watch some Netflix or Hulu. Wait for the boy to come home from his Dad's so I can suck the life out of him.
Norman Bates's mother.
Poor kid. Hopefully I haven't ruined him.

Merry friggin Christmas!

Wednesday, December 9, 2015

Has it really been a month since I've written? Sheesh. I'm slacking.
Not that I haven't had fodder for writing; as usual, there's always something to write about.
In my life, there seems to be something to write about daily.

Last week I was the girl holding up the drive through at Dunkin... At the window, at the head of a line of a dozen or more cars, at peak coffee time... chasing around a ten dollar bill I had dropped while handing it to the barista... Picture it, if you will.. the wind whipping that ten dollar bill here and there, back and forth, as I ran in circles around my car, like a chicken with its head cut off.. Around and around and around my car we went, that ten dollar bill and I, until it finally settled comfortably, far under the center of my car.. On hands and knees, on the ground at the window, butt pointing high into the air, I crawled under the car to retrieve said ten dollar bill.. I hoisted myself up, brushed myself off, shouted "you're welcome for the show!" to all in line behind me, grabbed my coffee and change, and went along my way.
It should have been a tv commercial for how badly you need your morning cup of Dunkin coffee.

Alas, that's the comical stuff that happens in my life, on a goddamn daily basis. Seriously, I constantly find myself saying aloud- "You can't make this shit up."
That's the stuff I live for.
That, and my kid.

Living alone has proven to be tolerable. At times, potentially enjoyable. Perhaps I don't technically live alone; My boy is here four days a week, and my companion is here 2-3 days a week as well. And then there's Hairy, the beta fish. Yes, Hairy, not Harry. It's so that I can pretend he is a fuzzy dog or cat (since I can't have pets here). He doesn't mind. Although I think he may sometimes suffer from identity crisis. But I digress... Living alone has turned out to be okay. Acceptable. Tolerable. However, it still gets lonely sometimes. A lot of the time. Okay, most of the time.

Work is good, as usual. I'm quite busy, as usual. I am a bit consumed by it, as usual. Perhaps I don't mind being so busy and so obsessed with work, because it fills a void. It keeps me occupied, and gives me something to focus on. It gives me worth and purpose.

Much like my kiddo. He gives me worth and purpose. And a friggin headache.
Jeezus, he is his father's child.
I must give him the same headaches, though. Through all of the turmoil this past year, I haven't been a peach to live with. He has had a very tough time of it this year, with all of our changes. He is missing his (ex) step-father a lot lately. Not that that's anything new; he has always missed him. But recently it has been worse. Perhaps it's the new home and living alone together. Perhaps it's the time of year. Perhaps it's adolescence. Or, he just misses him. Sigh.
They did have a very close relationship. Closer than any man who's ever been in my life. We talk about it at least once a week. I've considered allowing him to try and maintain some kind of relationship with him. I know the other party would be willing. But I don't know what the right thing to do is in this situation. Will it make things that much harder? Will it help? Why don't I have the answers to that? What do I do?
Otherwise, the boy is doing really well. Academically this year, he has vastly improved. Any of you who know me well, knows that he has struggled for years. But this year.. the change has been amazing. This year's parent teacher conference was so different from the norm. I am overwhelmed with pride. And he's doing awesome in basketball, even as nervous and scared as he has been. He lacks self confidence. I think this season will help him build that.
And of course, as usual, I probably still suck the life out of him.
Norman Bates's mother.

If my daughter were still at home, I'd probably suck the life out of her as well. I miss her being around. The boy does too. And I worry, good lord, don't I worry. When your children leave the nest, I think you worry even more than when they were at home. She seems to be doing okay.. Still in school, working, got her own apartment, without roommates.. But jeezus, I worry.
She's stressed out. School, work, an apartment on her own, relationships (and relationship strife), are all big things for a young woman to juggle. Hell, I can barely juggle it all at my age. Anyway.. And it shows. She is tired, pale, thin. I worry. Jeezus, I worry.
I fear she is settling for relationships similar to the ones I have had in the past. Ironic. I thought, watching her mother go through these kinds of relationships, would prevent her from settling for anything less than wonderful. In fact, growing up she always said that she would never put up with any bullshit. Probably from watching her mother over the years. Unfortunately, it seems to have conditioned her to the opposite. Why can't she find a prince charming? Or better yet, just be comfortable being alone? Focus on her; her education, her work, her life, her future.
Isn't this just like the pot calling the kettle black.
Jeezus, I worry.

I miss having a dog. I mean, really miss having a dog. I didn't think it would impact me so.
I miss having a dog, very, very much.

I am getting excited for Christmas. I'm not sure how I managed to shop as much as I did. I had a little bit left in savings, tips at work haven't been bad and I have been working more hours, and I sold a ton of candles. All that must have been it... Upon moving in here, I thought our Christmas would be bleak. I was so depressed. I kept telling myself- we have each other, we have our new home, presents are not what makes Christmas, blah, blah, friggin blah.. But for those of you who buy gifts for your children, you know the importance of presents. Yes, it is commercialized, yes, it is superficial. But it is the way. Presents are a part of Christmas, especially for children. And yes, we adults are to blame for that. But anyway.. I am very excited for Christmas. Through sheer luck, or saving, or financial budgeting, or what-ever.. I have been able to provide what will be a great Christmas for my boy. And for my girl. And for that, I am grateful.
And, we have each other.

Oh crap, it's time to get ready for the day.

Saturday, November 7, 2015

I've been in my new home for about two weeks now. Sometimes it still doesn't seem real.
Perhaps when the bills start filling the mailbox, it will feel real.

I sit here and write this before work, looking out my windows...

The lake.
If it were right outside my door it would be that much better. But I'll settle for this view.

Speaking of settle...
I feel like I've been doing a lot of that lately. Personally, professionally. In probably every single aspect of my life.
Perhaps it's just that feeling of lack of total fulfillment. Is that even an attainable thing? I doubt it. I would "settle" for even partial fulfillment.
I thought this house, this having my own home thing, would bring it to me. And I suppose it has, in part. But it comes along with such stress (bills, potential poverty, loneliness) that I wonder if the scales will ever be tipped to the favorable side.

I make too much money for any help, yet I make too little money to truly help myself (potentially a new car, more groceries, snow tires, christmas presents, etc etc etc)...
And I work, damnit. A lot. I have a "part time" job that's essentially full time. I'm at the bar every single day. Or shopping for the bar. Or running errands for the bar. Or banking. Or inventory. Or ordering. Or working from home. Or, or, or... I'm more consumed now that I've taken over the kitchen as well. I do get paid for my time. And a lot of my time I give to the bar as well; and I don't mind that. I am becoming more and more emotionally invested in it. I want it to succeed, to make money, to grow. I want what's best for it. And I believe we are on our way.
But damn, if I could just take a moment to not think or talk about work, just one minute. Lol...

Family photo sessions, family vacations, romantic getaways, elaborate (or simple) gifts, financial help, never sleeping alone... Are all things I miss in life. Who knew you could become so accustomed to a particular lifestyle. And I'm not just talking about monetarily. My current relationship is still very different than what I am used to. In so many ways (so, so many ways). That's not to say I am dissatisfied, don't get me wrong. It is just.. different.
But then again, my entire life is different now. Quite different.
My, my. How much it has changed.

Wow. I am such a complainer.
There are things to not complain about, I suppose.

My boy made the A team in basketball this year. I am so glad he gets to enjoy this season with all of his close friends during his last year here. And I am so proud of the young man he is becoming. He truly is the biggest (and sometimes only) bright light in my life.
Sometimes I still feel like I'm probably sucking the life out of him. Norman Bates's mother.

I have a job, a cute home (that I can hopefully afford to heat this winter), some close family members, a couple close friends, and my health. Well, so far, anyway. I'm not dead yet.

Shit. I've got to get ready for work.

Sunday, October 25, 2015

Well, I haven't really written anything of substance for a few weeks.
Have I not had fodder? Yes, I have. There's always something to write about. It's like a revolving door of mini earthquakes. Seriously, there isn't a day that goes by where I don't look at my life and say to myself- "You can't make this shit up"...
Maybe I just haven't had time. Between work, and traveling, and my son, and this, and that... I feel like I'm always on the go.

And I'm on the go again, this time across town, in a permanent fashion. Today is moving day.
After only 7 months (but what felt like an eternity), I'm finally moving out of mother's. And for once in the last several years in my life, it's not with a significant other. And dear jeezus, doesn't that scare the shit out of me. Is that perhaps a testament to how codependent I am? Probably. But hopefully this move can help me change that. Hopefully I can find some kind of peace and liberation in this. Hopefully, it doesn't just end up feeling lonely.
It won't be lonely all the time. My boy will be with me half the week, when he's not at his father's. And I do have a sweet boyfriend who visits often (that in itself is an entire blog of it's own, written some other day), and I'll have a fish... Sigh. No pets in the new house, that's the one drawback. Can you imagine? Me, living without cats and dogs?? If anything, that will be the loneliest part. But, I sacrificed my love of dogs and cats for the love of my dream... Remember, how I have written of it in the past?

This is the view standing on the front lawn of my new home. I can see the lake from every window on three sides of the house, and it's a beautiful panoramic from outside my doors. We have lake access and unlimited use of the landlord's dock below us on the water. 
Just when I had decided to hunker down with mom for the winter. Even as much as I despised living with my mother, I knew it was the wisest financial decision. And suddenly, quite out of nowhere, came this little, affordable cottage by the lake for rent. I wracked my brain for about two weeks trying to decide what to do. And although staying with mom, at least for the winter, made the most sense financially, I knew I would absolutely KICK myself (forever) if I didn't take this house. 
I'm scared as hell. Winter is upon us. Heat and electricity... I can do this. I'll work more (I'm already working more). I'll budget (I'm trying). Christmas will unfortunately not be what the boy has been accustomed to (that's my fault, for spoiling every year). Sigh.
We won't have to leave our hometown, that in itself is worth a fortune. This little town doesn't have a rental market. So to find one like this, in my price range, was a near miracle in itself. And did I mention, it's ON THE WATER!!! Seriously.. my dream? How did this happen? I don't have this kind of luck.
It's far from luxurious. It's tiny and outdated. And it's perfect for us. ...I'm finally going to be able to wake up and look at the water every day. Just like I've always wanted. I truly never thought that would happen.

Ok, ok, enough about that...

Sadly, there is other news to talk about. My work family lost one of their own this week in a tragic car accident. To me he was a more than a customer.. He was a guy who always made me laugh (and sometimes made me grit my teeth in frustration). But I also considered him a friend. If I needed something, I knew all I had to do was ask him, and that goes for so many of the people I have met here at The Brook. He actually came out to mom's and did some of the work here when I was moving in. He was a good man. I don't claim to have known him well, but that I knew.. He was a good man.
And to the others in our circle, he was much, much more than that. He was a brother. And I can only imagine the grief they are suffering and the absence they feel now in their lives.
It has been a very emotional week at work for everyone. The day after the accident especially. I watched many of his closest friends (including my bosses) come in and out throughout the day. Tears and laughter and stories were shared all day long. Mostly tears. I spent ten hours at work that day. And when I got home, I finally cried. I cried for him, for me, and for all of the people I love who loved him.

Speaking of work...
There are so many changes going on, it feels like a whirlwind. Well, maybe there aren't so many changes. Maybe only a few...
My cook (and friend) has given her notice to move on to a new business adventure. I am sad to see her go, personally and professionally. But I am happy that she also now gets to chase her dream.
I have (fortunately) already secured a new cook. A chef, actually. And he has years of food management experience as well. Does any of this sound familiar yet? ;) I have a feeling some of you might know him... ;)  And although I only have him part time, I am super excited about what he can bring to The Brook kitchen. Don't worry, we won't go all fancy dining cuisine at The Brook, but I can guarantee you'll be seeing some new delicious dishes... God, this is going to be epic.
We lost one of our bartenders this month as well. She's joining her other half in sunny Florida. And who can blame her! I'll miss her as well, both professionally and personally. She was always my go-to-girl. The one I could call at the drop of a hat, and I knew I could count on her. And what a sweetie, too. She will be greatly missed. But damnit, when she visits home, she'll be guest bartending for sure!
And, we've also hired our first male bartender in years! We brought him on starting out at only one night a week. Thursday nights will now be ladies night again! I have a feeling we got really lucky with this one, too. He's very experienced, super personable and charming, and easy on the eyes too! I know a lot of the men are questioning this decision, but when they see a bar full of ladies on Thursday nights, maybe then they'll agree that this wasn't a bad idea after all.  :)
I've moved girls around to fill other shifts too. We have a new Wednesday night pool tournament girl, and I moved one of my veteran girls to Tuesday nights, and we'll be doing a Twisted Tuesday theme.
See? Seems like a whirlwind of changes at work. But, I think.. they're all going to be good changes. I think this is going to work out just fine.  :)

Oh crap. Is it already 8 o'clock?? Shit! I have to finish packing!

Saturday, October 3, 2015

My ex-husband once told me- I know that you only write during the bad times. And he was partially correct. Things aren't "that bad" right now. I have my health, a job, a roof over my head, a caring person in my life, my kids are well.. And the list of things I should be thankful for goes on... 
I'm probably not as depressed as I may sound in this blog. It's probably just a glimpse into the brain of a "normal" looking person. A look at the thoughts behind the smile at work or among friends, a look behind the pretty pictures on Facebook. Or just a little bit of free therapy. 
At least that's what I tell myself.

"Rude" is playing on the radio during my morning commute. It's a silly song about a boy asking a man if he can marry his daughter.
And for some reason, it strikes me. It's probably my mood. In all three of my (failed) marriages, only one man has ever asked my father if he could marry me. And now my father is gone. Pretty much along with any hope of another marriage. It's not that I wouldn't try it again (evidently I'm a glutton for punishment), but after three, I should probably hang my hat. I haven't been good at it yet. Besides, who would walk me down the aisle?

This past year has been a long trail of difficult decisions. And I'm so tired of making up my mind.
And yet here I am, faced with another one. If I were a spiritual person, I would pray for the wisdom to make the right decision. Perhaps those of you who are "of the faith" can pray for me, in the absence of mine. 
I hypothesize. I analyze, and overanalyze, and do it all over again (and again and again). If I could get rid of the residual bullshit that still takes up space in my mind, it might be easier. And I hope. But I'm running low on that lately as well.
I still curse the universe for being so cruelly ironic.

My stomach has been a mess for weeks. I only eat half the week, when I have to feed my son. I drink too much coffee, far too much. And I smoke way too many cigarettes. I've thought about going back to my therapist. I've thought about going back to my doctor. But that just leads to a prescription. And I've already tried several of those.

On the upside, I've hardly drank in weeks; months, actually. And by all means, I should be a drunk. But I only have one or two, here or there. And I still haven't resorted to joining the ranks of those who choose "other" vices, no matter how available they are. And I never will. That's not to say that I'm a prude. It doesn't mean that I judge. It doesn't mean that I haven't gone down those roads; I have. 
I just chose not to live there.

It's Saturday, and that means it's my Friday. Aside from my sour mood, I actually look forward to going into work. It is stressful managing a bar, but it is rewarding as well. And not necessarily monetarily; I certainly don't make "the big bucks". And I get the feeling my employees don't really consider me "the boss", more of a coworker, really. But I know that what I do is appreciated, by my boss(es). I know what I do, and I know that it matters. 

I'm looking forward to date night with my son tonight. I am taking him to a street dance to see one of my favorite local bands. I hope he enjoys them as much as I do. I think he will. 

I miss having a dog. I had Phineus (my last Dane, who now lives with my daughter) for a few days. It was nice. Mom didn't seem to think so. I want my own dog. But living with my mother is much like living with a spouse- Spousal refusal at every turn. Grrrrrrrrrr. 
Living with my mother is... Well, like any 42 year old grown person living with their mother. Tolerable, barely, yet far far far from ideal. I need my own space. Desperately. I am trying to make the proper moves towards that. And the proper decisions. 

It's time to go to work. 

Sunday, September 27, 2015

When all else fails- shop, and shoot stuff. 

Thursday, September 24, 2015

I'm driving and writing again. I need someone to talk to, so I figure I'll dictate to my phone.

I'm overwhelmed with everything in life lately. I'm overwhelmed by my work. I'm overwhelmed with my living situation. I'm overwhelmed with choices I face. I'm overwhelmed with the teen angst of my adolescent son. 
And I'm dissatisfied. Just dissatisfied with my life. 

I want to have a nice place, but I can barely afford to. I want a new car, but I can't afford a nice place AND a car payment. I want to work from home. But doing what? Or maybe I just want to be at home. Maybe I just want to be taken care of. Does that make me lazy? I've never considered myself lazy; I've always worked, many times in my life, too much.

Maybe I just want to enjoy what time I have left, and do whatever the hell I want to do. I'm only 42, and I don't mean to sound morbid… But, do you ever get the feeling that you don't have much time left? I mean, I know we are all aware of our mortality, obviously. But it's more than that. It's just a feeling. It's probably just because my chest always hurts now, and every day I carry a tight, painful little ball of anxiety around in it. I know a lot of it is because I'm smoking too much. And yet I don't have the desire or the willpower to stop. Most times I don't even care.

I still feel like I reside in limbo. Not satisfied with my station in life, not feeling at home anywhere.. Not in my "career" or in my personal life. Not knowing what my life path is. Limbo is a nasty place to live.

But my picture is pretty. I make a lovely fa├žade.

Maybe I'm just stressed out and overtired today. I hardly slept last night; we had a very traumatizing evening. I wish I could write about it, but I can't disclose anything just yet. We weren't injured or anything, but there was an incident. And it was disturbing, and frightening, and something we will never forget. What very little sleep I did get was wrought with nightmares. 

Or maybe I'm just hormonal.

Maybe I need a dog.

Monday, August 31, 2015

No coffee in the house! What a way to start the morning... Grrrrr....
So I threw on some clothes, put my hair in a ponytail, and drove to Dunkin. I'm not sure I was even fully awake for it. The dog might have actually driven, I'm not really sure.

Since then, I've spent the last THREE HOURS filling out multiple applications for rent-reduced apartments. Dear lord, these applications are ridiculous! If they could, I think they'd take your first-born as well as their twelve pages of necessary info.
Not that I want to live in subsidized/low-income housing, but it seems the most practical choice. I did bypass a few of the properties, based on location and reputation. There are actually some other really nice apartments in the area that are rent restricted (tiered rent based on income). However, there is a wait list for every one of them. Sigh. Well, doesn't hurt to apply, I suppose. Maybe someone will die, or get arrested for drug trafficking, and I'll get in line for a vacancy. Who knows.

In the meantime I'm also looking everywhere online and while driving around. There are plenty of places available, but none in my price range. I'm not sure how one-income parents do it. I don't make a ton of money, but I do alright. And still, when I look at my budget, I figure I'll have to live like a monk in order to afford my own place. Or quit smoking and drinking dunkin coffee. Those seem to be my biggest monthly expenses. The lack of dunkin I might be able to live with. The quitting smoking- Not gonna happen. I'd kill someone. No lie, I truly would.

Not that living with my mother is a terrible thing. It's tolerable. And cheap. But seriously, folks... Who can really say they'd be ok living with their mom at 42 years old?
And besides, it's not just her. It's living with someone in general. I've always had a hard time cohabitating, even when it was with a partner (just ask any of my three ex-husbands) . I just need my own space. And I like things a certain way (My way).

Yesterday I actually went and looked at a cheap apartment just outside of town. It was cheap for a reason. You get what you pay for.
And so, the hunt continues.

Dawson starts his first day back to school tomorrow. I am glad for that. It's very difficult to entertain a 13 year old every day all summer. And expensive.

I dreamt of my ex-husband last night. I can't remember the details of the dreams, but they were basically a reflection of recent times...  telling me how much he love(d) me, wanted and needed me, while his new girlfriend waited back home, or while his latest soiree of women waited to meet him at the bar..  In short, that his words never really match(ed) up to his actions, no matter how much I want(ed) them to. Not now, and not in the last few years. Every time he left, it killed us a little bit. And lately his "actions vs. words" showed no promise of him having changed at all. The lack of trust, reliability, and follow through was eventually the death of us. And you know what's ironic? I don't remember having so much love and devotion for another human being (other than my children) in all of my life. How ridiculously sad.

Perhaps that's why I have such a hard time believing things will be any different with anyone else. I know it's baggage, and I needn't carry it with me in new relationships, but it's so much easier said than done. It's very hard for me to believe in anything...
Historically, people leave. That's what happens, It's eventual, and inevitable.
After the "honeymoon phase"... I'm too grouchy, too difficult, not "fun" enough, too stoic, too this or that, and/or not enough this or that...
It has been my story for all of my relationships. And I haven't changed, so why would my story?

I suppose I need to get motivated. I have to go get time cards and do the banking for work, mail out these life-story rental applications, go grab Dawson, and get some last minute school supplies. And prep my meatloaf.
Yes, I'm cooking. Crazy, isn't it?

Friday, August 21, 2015

Addendum to my last blog:

When I use the word "addict", please don't assume I mean someone who's shooting up or smoking crack. 
And addict is an addict, no matter what the substance. Alcohol, marijuana, cocaine, or any other mood altering (and often illegal) substance or activity (gambling, for instance). It's all addiction. 

An addict will apoologize, make excuses, justify, and rationalize. It's horribly devastating for the people who love them. 


A person who is addicted to an activity, habit, or substance: a drug addict.

To cause to become physiologically or psychologically dependent on an addictive substance, as alcohol or a narcotic.

To habituate or abandon (oneself) to something compulsively or obsessively. 

I wanted to start this blog with something angry. Something that exemplified my determination and independence. Something that would illustrate just how strong and badass I am.
I wanted to say things like-

-I will not allow myself to feel second to anything.. to your kids, your job, your friends, your hobbies, your habits, your lifestyle. To anything.
-I will not allow toxic things/people/circumstances in my life.
-I will walk away without hesitation if my principles are compromised.
-I will swiftly cut it out of my life if it does not provide a good example to my son.
-I will. not. settle.

But none of that is really true.

I've settled for relationships that were less than extraordinary.
I've tolerated circumstances that were FAR from ideal.
I've overlooked actions that I would otherwise consider unacceptable.
I've been hurt by people, and allowed them re-access to my heart, over, and over, and over.
I've handed out more undeserved pardons in my lifetime than any person should.

Truth is, I have condoned and accepted shitty circumstances, my entire.. fucking.. life.

Where do we learn this kind of behavior?
Do we disregard things that we normally never would, tolerate less than ideal relationships, and forgive repetitive hurts, all for the sake of love? What is this thing, this "love", that is powerful enough to make us condone, accept, tolerate, and forgive all things deplorable?

(And please don't misunderstand me... I don't speak of trivial things... By "things", I don't mean- Oh, he has stinky feet, and I accept that. Or- she's a lousy housekeeper, and I accept that).

Maybe I learned it from my parents.
I watched my father choose alcohol over his wife and family, from as far back as I remember, right into adulthood. And I watched my mother accept and condone, and forgive him, every time he made the choice.
And we all know how that turned out...
My mother became positively miserable. But she could never bring herself to leave him; she loved him too much. Towards the end, she just kind of checked out. Spent less and less time at home. Weekend getaways, hobbies that kept her away every night. Trying to escape the life that it had become. And my father just kept choosing the bottle.
It killed my mother. It killed us.
And then it killed him.

I can't remember exactly when, but sometime during my youth, I swore to myself that I would never allow that to happen to me. That I would NEVER partner with anyone who had any kind of addiction. ANY. KIND. (Not alcohol, not pot, and certainly not anything worse). That I would never settle for someone who refused to put me first. And that I would never give someone the power to hurt me over and over.

And yet, that is all I have done...

My daughter's father was crazy. My first husband was/is an addict. My second husband was also crazy. My next fiance was emotionally unavailable. My third husband suffered from fight or flight syndrome (and always flew). My most recent boyfriend is... well, on the list too.

I have a very long history of settling for shitty circumstances, all for the sake of love.

But you know what?
I'm not with any of them now. I am alone. And as terrible and lonely as it is, perhaps that's the testament of determination and independence I was looking for at the start of this blog.
But it doesn't feel strong and liberating. And I sure don't feel like a badass.
It just feels sad.

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

I've only ever written a blog while driving on a couple of occasions. That talk to text feature is pretty handy. Although, it doesn't always hear me correctly, so please forgive the inevitable typos, as I will most likely post without proofreading. Oh who am I kidding, of course I'll proofread.

I read an interesting article this afternoon on The care one should take when choosing a life partner, and it gave me food for thought and fodder for writing.

I've always considered myself over analytical when it comes to relationships. In fact, people often tell me that it's one of my faults. But consider this (an excerpt from the article); 
When you choose a life partner, you’re choosing a lot of things, including your parenting partner and someone who will deeply influence your children, your eating companion for about 20,000 meals, your travel companion for about 100 vacations, your primary leisure time and retirement friend, your career therapist, and someone whose day you’ll hear about 18,000 times.
...How can you NOT be over analytical when you look at it like that? 

So anyway, I've always considered myself to be over analytical. In love, and in life. However, I've only recently begun to do something out of the ordinary; Live by day.
Wing it, go with the flow, what will be – will be... 
And I have found that it's not very comfortable. I mean, it feels good in the moment, for the most part. And I could almost understand how people operate by this mantra. But I'm not convinced it's for me. I need a plan, an end goal. And it has to be well put together Not unattainable, not even skeptical. It has to make sense. The pieces have to fit together without gaps.
So what happens when an obsessive over-analyzer can't formulate a plan? I'll tell you what… They go crazy.

And by they, I of course mean me.

I've used my manic moments as a basis for every decision lately. I've experienced a whirlwind of changing circumstances. I've been riding a veritable emotional roller coaster; up and down, up and down. Stop the ride, I want to get off.
But I can't. There's no operator. She checked out. She doesn't have a plan.  She doesn't know the difference between stop and go, or even what lies in between.
Throw your hands up in the air, here comes another plunging corner!
Do people really live this way? Do people really enjoy this ride? 
I just want a straight stretch.

My destination is approaching. 
I'm sure this blog made no sense. But it passed the time during my drive and perhaps provided me with a moment of therapy. I think. 


Wednesday, August 12, 2015

This is the first opportunity I've had to write in several days.
And I have so much to write about. I want to write, I do. I desperately need to. But for once, I'm hesitant to.
Maybe I'll just try to be vague. Although, I'm sure it's obvious. I haven't been terribly private.
On with it, then.

The last few months have been one long decision making process. Not a list of multiple decisions; just one, really.
It seems I have been making this decision every so often... maybe every month or so. We'll call it every month, for conversation sake. Every month (or so), for the last several months, I would make a choice. A painful, awful, horrible choice. Break my own heart (and, ultimately, someone else's). Make a decision.
And then, shortly after, I would reconsider. Most times, quietly, internally.
Back peddle. I can't live with my decision.
And then I'd have to make the decision again. Each time the same decision as before. Make the choice. A painful, awful, horrible choice.
And then, after a time, I'd reconsider again.
Rinse, wash, repeat.
This has been my ongoing cycle, for the last several months.
An excruciating, heart breaking, and completely maddening cycle.
And by "completely maddening", I actually mean something much more severe, yet can't find the words for. I feel like I have been going utterly insane.

The cycle changed this past week when I made a different decision. Changed direction. And although it may have been a different direction from these last few months, it was(is) still just as awful, horrible, and painful.
Broke my own heart. And someone else's.
And I reconsider. Back peddle. I can't live with my decision.
I'm losing my mind again.

The overwhelming advice from the masses is to just choose neither path. To embrace a completely separate direction from the reoccurring choice. Go my own way, as Fleetwood Mac would say.
And I've tried. Well, maybe not quite, but I've considered it, come close to it. And I simply cannot. That's no exaggeration. I can't. Making a choice of one way over the other is torturous. But to live without either? Now that is an agony I couldn't possibly bear. At least not bear to choose on my own.
...Ironically, perhaps it will come to that. Maybe my indecision will force a hand, or two. And I will have no decision to make, I will have nothing at all. Lord knows, it's probably what I deserve.

I've done the pro's and con's lists. I've rationalized it six ways to Sunday. I've analyzed every inch and every corner. I've taken apart all the pieces and examined them. I've evaluated and re-evaluated, over and over and over.
And so I try to stop over-thinking. I've tried to go with the flow, just go with it, wait and see, what will be will be, blah blah friggin blah. None of those things work.
I've listened to advice and opinions and wise words, and considered the wealth of knowledge and experience that my friends and family have to offer.
I tried to "listen to my heart". Even it doesn't have a clue.
I've done nothing but this, for months.

And now I feel like I can't make a decision at all.
At least these last few months I've made a decision each time. It took me a long, painful while to come to it every time, but I did. I chose. Perhaps not 100%, but I enacted it.
Now it seems, I simply can't. Not "it seems". I truly cannot.
And.. fuck.. It hurts.

Indecision is debilitating. Not just for me.
I carry the guilt of hurting not just myself.
I am coming unglued.

Friday, July 31, 2015

Random 5am thoughts...
Actually, they begin at 5 AM. They spilled over to the 10 AM mark. Truth is, they'll last all day and into the night. Rinse, wash, repeat.
But I digress...

Next time I go on vacation, I'm leaving state. Addendum; next time I go on vacation, I will leave state, and bring nothing but my dog. Oh, and coffee and cigarettes. 

Does facebook (Twitter, Instagram, Flickr, etc.) have some substantial meaning or purpose? No. However, your social media outlet is a direct representation of yourself. You can tell what's important to a person based on what they share... Alternatively, a lack of interest/investment based on what they DON'T share.
If you post about partying all the time, you look like a partier.. Drugs.. a druggy. Drama.. a drama queen. Drinking… a drunk. If your posts are always about yourself, you look like a narcissist. Constant posts expressing your overzealous opinion on politics, religion, and all other things controversial make you seem combative. Ironically, -and pay attention here- the more you try to convince others of your position, the less believable/sincere your position becomes. You've all seen my replies to these fervent arguments on facebook- "I like bacon." Don't get me wrong, I have an opinion, a position, on many of these debates, and a mighty long list of others. I just don't enjoy the idea of arguing them in such an open forum (I was never on the debate team in school). I prefer to discuss much more personal information, as evidenced in these blogs. ;-)
And now you will say I sound judgmental. But how can I not be when these are the ways people represent themselves? Look at your Facebook (Twitter, Instagram, Flickr, etc.) page- What do you want YOUR face to look like?
I'll admit, mine is a mess. And that's probably pretty accurate.

I tried putting myself on a budget this week (budgeting is a lifestyle I am not accustomed to). It lasted two days. 

Tending bar has always been one of the funnest, most diverse, nonconforming, and enjoyable jobs I've ever had. It has also been the most challenging in terms of stress, tolerance, patience, and mental/emotional (and physical) wear and tear. Managing a bar has brought both of those points to an entirely new level.

When did I become so much like my father? I mean, I've always been like him. But recently it seems more so. More grumpy, less tolerant. When did he finally start to "mellow"? At what point will I?
And when did I become so much like my mother? So conservative? She wasn't always that way. Neither was I, for that matter.

I have (emotionally) struggled more in the last six months than I have in much of my life. I desperately want a quiet mind, home, peace. Limbo is a nasty place to live.

I've smoked three quarters of a pack of cigarettes since 5 AM this morning. Like much else in my life, evidently I am no good at anything in moderation.

Time for work. 

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

It's my birthday. I'm 42 today. Wait, I mean.. 29.

No big plans today. It's just another day.
I dropped my favorite boy off at basketball camp. Now I'm home (or, what is my part time, roommate style residence, I suppose), doing laundry, picking up dog poops from the kitchen and laundry room, writing this blog..

I think I'll take Pixie to the lake. I've been dying to sit by the water lately. Still. Always. I don't know why. It just seems that's what calls me. And since I can't have my dream of waking up to it every morning, I guess I'll just go to the local public landing for the afternoon.
Maybe I'll find some peace there today.
Dinner with the crew later today. Tonight will probably consist of more internet browsing until the wee hours, and some quality time with the DVR. Hopefully I'll sleep.
No big plans, just another day.

I am a bit overwhelmed by my thoughts today (although, I suppose that's how it is every day). It's funny how a milestone such as your birthday can really force you into self-reflection.

I certainly didn't expect my life to look like this at 42.
Divorced for the third time. Still no college degree. Credit history down the toilet. Living with my mother (and not enough of an income to change that)...
Side note... I owned a home once. I bought "too much house" when I had what I thought was a partner for life. Three months later, he left us. Just like that. Up and left. And there I was, sporting a $1400 a month mortgage. I held on as long as I could. Worked 60-70 hours at two different jobs. Renegotiated my loan a dozen times. By the time the next "what I thought was a life partner" came along to help out, it was far too late to save the house, the loan, or my credit.
Anyway, I digress...
Not where I would have expected to be at 42...

I need to work more at my current job or get a second job. Period. That's the first priority on a long list of "have to's". It's the only way I'll be able to afford my own place. Not that living with mom is terrible, it's not. It's been tolerable, for the most part. I just need my own place. Even if that might mean.. gasp.. low income housing, for the time being. We shall see. It's a consideration, anyway. I'm still looking every day online.. Craigslist, Bangor Daily, Facebook groups.. for a place that I might be able to afford. Then again, I still have to come up with first month plus security deposit. Which I'm TRYING to save for. Who wants to give me a loan? Sigh.

And, I feel very alone in my mess. Sometimes that's comfortable, just, appropriate. It's as it should be.
Sometimes, it's just lonely.
I have a few friends. I have a sweet boyfriend. I have my mom. My kids.
But ultimately, I am alone in it.

Sometimes I want to be taken care of. Just, taken care of. Sometimes, I just want to be left alone.
I know what I don't want.. half-way. Half-way, I can't do.
I'm a walking contradiction.

Now I'm rambling. I just don't know. I'm so dissatisfied with my life right now.

Laundry's done.
Maybe I'll skip folding it and just head to the lake with the dog.
Yep, that sounds like a plan.
At least I have one. Hey, it's a start. Baby steps.

Saturday, July 18, 2015

My father always said-
"If something seems too good to be true, it probably is."
Coincidentally, he also said-
"There's nothing I hate more than a fucking liar."

Monday, July 13, 2015

I haven't written anything of substance lately. Well, that I haven't taken down after a couple days. I'm famous for that, you know. Writing during a mood torrent (I prefer "mood torrent" to "mood swing", as torrent seems much more appropriate), and then taking it down once the emotional crisis has passed.
Truth is, it seems there's always an emotional crisis going on in my life. The ebb and flow is just variable; sometimes I can tread water, sometimes I can't.

I've been wanting to write lately, but haven't found the opportunity. Not that I'm terribly busy. Well, I guess probably I am. I "only" work three days a week. On my off days, I do bar banking and liquor orders and work from home, Dawson, groceries, personal errands, house keeping, appointments, and all that other crap that makes "days off" not really that at all. I guess I'm busy. I'm not sure how I'd balance it all if I worked what most consider a "normal" schedule.


It's my "day off" today. I' m going to do the bar banking, check the liquor inventory/time cards/cash-up slips, get groceries, do my banking, pay bills, and get my hair done (yay! something for me on my "day off"!) Then later I'll pick up Dawson... He's spending most of the day with Troy and Kayli, and Kayli's friend Maddy (whom I think he may have a secret crush on... not so secret anymore.. oops)...
Yes, you read that correctly, he is spending time with his former step-family. They had a very strong relationship, and I believe it important to allow that to continue. Troy and I are on good terms. We have been swimming there, we have watched UFC fights there. It's been no secret that he would like us to be together as a family again. It's also been no secret that it's hard for me to deny that that feels normal and comfortable, regardless of our history. I am just calling it "on good terms" at this point. And for now, I won't write about it any further.

Because there is still someone else in my life that has a special place in my heart. Who has for five months now. That I'm crazy about. That I have a very special connection with.
And that circumstances have been ever-challenging with.
“If you have chemistry, you need one other thing—Timing. But timing is a bitch.” ~Unknown
It's more than just timing, though. Even timing couldn't conquer the circumstantial factors. The distance, the lifestyle differences, the children and parenting differences, the personality differences, the "relationship approach/style" differences...
It's so goddamn ironic that the universe, fate, god, whatever.. would pair two people with such an undeniable connection, and such irreconcilable factors. How. Friggin. Ironic. And not in the humorous, playful ironic way, either. Irony is curious like that.
And we've discussed it all. Every practical and logical sign (most times) points towards an eventual (or immediate) ending, but we can never bring ourselves to do it. Because of said undeniable connection.
But every week, it seems, the circumstances become more and more difficult to tolerate. Sometimes they're even put right in my face, which happened just this past week...
I posted a brief rant on facebook earlier this week about the challenges of being a parent, and the influences you wish you could shield your children from. The truth is, you can't. But you can try to eliminate or avoid those that are within your control, right? But what if it's more complicated than that?
Anyway, I'm getting off path and confusingly vague. I'm rambling.

In other news, Patches (our ancient cat) got sprayed by a skunk this weekend. I was not home, and so mom had the pleasure of bathing her and trying to de-stink the house. Although, it does still slightly smell in here. Poor stupid cat. Poor Mom. Hehehe...

It was very nice to have an actual day off this weekend. I was able to spend it with both my kids and some of my family at camp in Enfield. And, tons and tons of other children, as it was a birthday party. I don't tolerate children well, or the chaos that accompanies them, but it was still a very nice day. And you know what else??? My sister and I were both there, and we didn't kill each other! We sat across from one another on the deck almost the entire day. We even had a brief small-talk exchange concerning Logan's new "man friend". It was almost... nice. I do miss what we had. Sharla was always my best friend, had been for years. It's been almost a year and a half since our parting of ways. We haven't spoken at all, and have only seen each other perhaps twice, uncomfortably. I think we may both be approaching the point where we would be willing to bury the hatchet. Although, I can't speak for her. I only know how I feel. But that was the impression I got this weekend. We shall see. Baby steps.

And I have another real day off this week as well! We'll be going to camp again on Friday, and I'll get to see my Aunt Carrie, whom I only see about once a year. Logan surprisingly has the day off also, so she'll get to go too. Hopefully Ben will let me take Dawson for the day. I'm very happy to be able to see and spend time with everyone. As I get older, I am beginning to realize that family is really the only thing we have.
And we haven't much time.

Which makes me think...

Do what's important. Do what matters. Do what makes your heart happy and your mind quiet. Do what brings you peace.
Regardless of what it looks like, or what people think, or what you stand to lose.
Every, single, day.
For we haven't much time.

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

I saw that photo/phrase on Facebook yesterday. I thought it poignant, profound. 
I'm always asked (usually by the significant other of the moment)- Why do you write? And why do you disclose such personal information??? The caption above answers those questions perfectly. I honestly couldn't have said it better myself (I may be an above-average technical writer, but I'm admittedly no good at creative prose). 

And so, on with it. Hopefully, without offending anyone. 

I am in the midst of a personal dilemma. Wait... when am I NOT in the midst of a personal dilemma?? Jeezus, there's ALWAYS something.. I should write a friggin book... Anyway, I digress.. 

I am in the throws of this new romance. I say "new", because by relationship standards, it's still new, at only 4 months old. It's still in its infancy... (I love it's vs its.. the one time you don't use an apostrophe to indicate a possessive.. anyway..). What was I saying? Oh, right, the new relationship...
It's still in its infancy. It's still fun, and loving, and fresh, and quite consuming. And yet, it's also about at that mark when I start to look at it from a different perspective- the "where can this go" mark, the "what's next" phase... I know, I know.. Many of you would say I shouldn't be analyzing it this early on, I should just be able to "go with the flow", etc, etc... Well, that's just not how I'm wired. I am a "date with a purpose" kind of gal. It doesn't matter if it's fun, or that it passes the time, or that it fills a void, or that it brings me pleasure for the time being. At some point, fairly early on, it must show possibility of a purpose. And if there is no purpose, no potential, then it is probably a waste of time, energy, and emotion, for all parties involved, and should be severed, as to avoid even more discomfort later on. 
And, in this instance, this relationship doesn't seem to have the potential to be anything more than it is right now. "It doesn't seem to" probably wasn't completely accurate... It truly doesn't/won't proceed to the "what's next" phase. And it has been discussed, and (mostly) agreed upon, and understood between the two of us.
I won't go into detail, because that would just be too much disclosure. But believe me when I say, there are some very real and significant (and inflexible, fixed, unchangeable) reasons as to why.  And so we carry on... Half the week spent together, enjoying one another, quite enraptured, wishing we had more time... Trying not to think about the "issues", trying not to think about it possibly (likely?) being only temporary. And then half the week spent apart, missing one another (sometimes to the point of misery), living our lives, going about our business, our children, jobs, lifestyles, etc, with daily texts and the occasional phone-call. 
And so I continue compromising my principals, going against what is logical, and quite possibly the "right thing" to do.  Because I am crazy about him.  Because in four short months, he has become a huge part of my life, even though only part-time. He's filled a space in my heart, grown there like some persistent pretty little flower that is rooted too deep (or deeply, either can be a proper adverb in this instance) to weed. Filled a dark empty spot with something new and bright and beautiful.
So, what the hell to do?!?! "Go with the flow?" Continue on, enjoy it, assuming that this will be enough to sustain for us both? Or let it go, before more time and emotion is invested, and allow us each the opportunity to find "more" from a relationship, from life.
At this point, my coffee and blogging was interrupted by the desperate pleas of my 13 year old son... Emergency, emergency! It's the last day of school and he had forgotten to bring the giant candy bar he bought for his favorite teacher. And since I needed to go to the town office to register my Jetta anyway, I rode in on my giant green monster (mom's excursion), and saved the day. 
I then proceeded to register my new (transmission-troublesome) Jetta, where I watched three registrations get processed to my one. Evidently I got the new girl. I had not had enough coffee for this, and so my time spent there was quite painful.
And now I'm back at my desk, fresh cup of coffee in hand, wondering... "where was I?"...Oh, right, the relationship stuff...
I feel like I've written enough for today. I don't know what else to say. It's difficult to write about, think about, look it in the face and see the reality of it. But perhaps that's exactly why I am writing of it.

One last very relevant thing, though... Throw another person into the mix, one who I planned on spending forever with, and also love very much, who wants a reconciliation, and the plot thickens to the point of excruciating insanity.

I've been in a very similar position to this, in the fall/winter of 2011...
In one blog I wrote...
Imagine for a second, that you had to willingly sever one of your own limbs. An arm, maybe a leg. Just cut it off. Lose it forever. No one could save you the discomfort of choice or the internal struggle and cut it off for you.  You had choose a limb, and you must sever it. There’s nothing wrong with that limb. It’s not diseased or infected. But you have to do it.
I can function without that limb. I know that I can. But it doesn’t ease the pain of severing it. I just want to be able to move on now, somewhat handicapped, and find some form of happiness.
I remember saying back then that it was one of the most painful positions I'd ever been in, and how I hoped to NEVER again experience it.
Well played, Universe, well played. Screw you. 

Friday, June 5, 2015

I should have learned by now to not write while I'm in the midst of a mood swing, be it pleasant or otherwise. The other day when I wrote, I was on a high of sorts. Everything seemed at least fairly right with the world. This evening, the opposite seems to be the case.
And I should know better than to write now, as I should have known better then.
But I don't know better.

I'll start by saying- I know it could be worse...

A friend of mine shot himself this week. He was a regular at The Brook. He was my age. He used to come in quite often. I still have pictures of him and Sue (my friend, and the old cook) on my phone. He was fun, crazy, cute, sweet. He was always making us laugh. His smile was infectious. And yet, he was also somehow just a little bit lost. PTSD, failed relationships, life in general... Him and I used to swap relationship horror stories; he was so easy to talk to.
I just saw him last Friday. I was so glad to see him, it had been a little while since he had been in. We talked for a bit, caught up, joked around. But, he still had that far away look in his eyes.
And yesterday at work, someone was throwing the name around, saying that someone by that name had shot themselves. And I said aloud- No, it wasn't him, it wasn't our Matt. And then I left work, and didn't think of it again.
Sara (my cook) told me this morning.
Like everyone else, I'm still in shock.

And so, I know, it could be worse.

I bought a VW Jetta, knowing it may need tranny work. Turns out, it does. Although I was prepared to spend the money in order to get it going, it still feels like I rolled the dice and shouldn't have. Somewhere right now my Dad is telling me- I told you so (with additional colorful phrases).
And Mom's excursion that I'm driving until I can get the Jetta registered and on the road, as it turns out, is a death trap. Two ball joints that are evidently so bad that they're going to break at any moment. I said- What's the big deal? The answer- Um, you know, those are the things that keep your tires on straight. The shop told me to take it home and park it.
But, I still need to get around, and so I'm still driving it. Hey, at least it's a giant tank, so I'll survive when it drives me off the road.

The band is defunct.
And I was supposed to play at my (other) favorite bar tonight and tomorrow night. The old Bucksport stomping ground. I was so looking forward to that.
After we parted ways with the lead guitarist, and then picking up a potential replacement, our rhythm player got done too because of a work conflict. And I am not interested in starting from scratch all over again. Already this feels like too much work. This is why I "retired" from music so long ago. It became more work than it was worth. Bitter Grace- the band that never was.
How very ironic, considering it was the catalyst to the end of my marriage.
But, was it for a reason? Oh, who fucking knows. The funk I'm in tonight is so thick that I'm having a hard time finding reason for anything.

Relationships are complicated. There's always something making it so. There's, always, something. Children, schedules, work, friends, obligations, distance.. characteristics, direction, fundamentals, differences...
I want things to work seamlessly. I don't like doubt or the unknown. I don't want complications. I want that easy button from the Staples commercials.
It's probably no coincidence that I'm a third time divorcee.

I was so excited to have the house to myself this weekend. Mom is in Portland at my sister's. Dogs are gone too. Come home, get dinner, put on pajamas, watch tv, be lazy...
It's overrated. Turns out alone time is just that- alone.

This is definitely not where I thought I'd be at this point in my life.

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

If life were only as easy as my last blog made it sound. 

Tuesday, June 2, 2015

It's been just under a month since I've written. Evidently I'm back to the trend of going weeks between blogs. It's certainly not for lack of fodder; there's ALWAYS interesting things/happenings to write about. It's just whether or not to write about them...

Let's begin.
(And this has taken me a half day to write, so it's going to be lengthy. Get comfortable.)

Things are, in general, ok around here. I wouldn't go so far as to say "life is good", but I'll call it tolerable. :) Dawson and I are in good health, we have a roof over our heads, we eat well, we have the necessities and some trivial extras. Life is, tolerable. :)

Living with Mom is a challenge at times, but for the most part we coexist successfully. I am particular about how things are around here, and she's used to that after living with father. In fact, there are often times she says to Dawson- Dzazdu is still with us... in your mother!
Although it is monetarily comfortable here, I still long for my "own place". I constantly reevaluate my financial situation, and try to figure out a way I could make it work. I always come up with the same answer... With several more shifts at work, or with a second (and possibly third job), I could do it. And so, what to do... Sacrifice my sanity, my time with Dawson, my relationship, my time for me.. in order for four walls of my own?
What to do, what to do...

Dawson has been adjusting well to the changes we've been through. He doesn't mind living with mom at all, he adores her. And he is happy being back in Glenburn. He seems to be coping a little better now with the "loss" of his step-father. He still talks about him. He still misses the things they'd do together. Even though there are times when he's still sad, he at least seems to be accepting things now. That being said, he would still jump at the chance to go golfing with him, or to the gym... Sad. 

I miss having Logan around, to my surprise. Her living at home was a constant point of contention for my ex-husband and I. Yes, it was stressful, and I was relieved to see her venture out on her own. But I do miss her so. She at least does visit here once a week. I mean, really, she needs to do laundry and eat a home-cooked meal. :) I worry about her constantly; she will always be my baby. But she is a little adult now. A beautiful, smart, driven young woman. It's so strange.

A brief mention about my job, simply because I am so happy where I am. It took a long time for me to feel settled there. And I may not be the youngest, prettiest, or favorite bartender there, but I am welcomed, at home, and I am happy. I am proud, and dedicated. And, I'm the boss. That's kinda cool too. ;)

Speaking of jobs... I have been thinking about the future (quite a lot, in many different aspects)... But specifically, job related. I can't tend bar forever.  So.. what do I do? I need to seriously consider what I will be doing to sustain for the rest of my working years. Lots of college credits, but no degrees. A little experience in a lot of different things, but not enough in one particular field to be generously employable. Should I go back to school? But how?? I barely passed the basic mathematics courses, and couldn't even finish Algebra 1. Numbers and letters stand in the way of obtaining a degree for me, it's just impossible. And, even if I could, for what? I have no idea what I would be happy doing for years. Nothing interests me enough. I would be happy tending bar for years, but that's not realistic. No one wants to look at (or employ) a 65 year old bartender. What the hell am I going to do??
I don't know what I want to be when I grow up. Sigh.

Lately, I yearn to be on the water. Not necessarily in a boat, I'm more of an "on the shore" kinda gal. I want to go stay on the water somewhere for a while. Or even better, live there. By a river, or a pond, or a lake, or the ocean. I care not the size of the water, so much as the essence of it.  Somewhere I can wake up every day and have my coffee while staring it, smelling it, listening to it, letting it bring me the peace and tranquility I so desperately and constantly seek.
Maybe that should be my future goal.

Speaking of the future...
This past weekend marked the finality of my divorce. On May 30th, the thirty-day appeals period expired, and I officially became a third-time divorcee. My third tour. A third star general. The third time, as it turns out, is not a charm.
And I jest, but it's all a facade.

There are so many things wrong with this, I don't even know where to begin.
Besides all the specifics associated with this last marriage (and there are layers upon layers of them...), the idea of being a divorcee, again, is quite upsetting, frustrating, unsettling. What have I done wrong all these times? Why do I have this cycle, this history? Am I THAT bad at relationships? Sigh.
This last one was supposed to be forever. The third time is a charm; it really was supposed to be. And quite often, it felt that would be true. My ex-husband and I were the closest to happiness, contentment, "true love" (if you will), I had ever felt. And yet, it was also a terrible, unhealthy, emotional roller coaster. So many times I should have walked away, and didn't. Or more appropriately, so many times he walked away, and I should have let him stay gone, and didn't. Until this last time, when we both kind of mutually walked away from it at the same time. It's true that perhaps this time around, it was more me than him. I threw in the towel first, gave up easier, lost the will to continue trying. That's perhaps the difference this time, from all the other times we should have let it go.
Now, that's not to say that I've been firm in my resolve through it all. Admittedly, I've had my weak moments. Responding to his emails, speaking with him on the phone, meeting him to talk... And there were times these last few months when I've had second thoughts. The good times, the fond memories, the connection we (intermittently) had, have all tempted me to reconsider.
These last few months have been very, very difficult. Painful. Although it certainly hasn't appeared that way, has it? I've been very public about my new relationship, and very private about my struggle. Why wouldn't I be? I was confused, sad, angry, elated and ecstatic, all at the same time. And on top of that, I was ashamed for feeling all of these things. Ashamed of being so seemingly happy in my new relationship, ashamed of the feelings I had developed for someone new, so soon. Ashamed for feeling so sad and conflicted about my divorce, ashamed of reconsidering. Ashamed of feeling lonely, codependent. Ashamed of not being happy by myself, or having the strength to be alone, as everyone said I should be.
Ashamed of being so... human.
But as it turns out, I am human.

So what have I learned from all this? Where do I stand now? What does my future hold? I'm still not quite sure. I don't have any firm answers. And I sincerely wish I did. The "not knowing" is one of the things in life that I have a terribly difficult time coping with. I'm not a "wait and see" or "go with the flow" kind of person. I need to know the answers, have to know them, or I go crazy, quite literally. Not knowing is a constant source of anxiety.

What I do know, is...
It's ok to be sad and angry and lonely. I lost something (someone) that was a huge part of my life. It's ok to miss the wonderful things that were associated with that.  I lost love, no matter how gray it was at times.
And just because others are more independent, and believe in taking time for oneself, and being alone, and all that other (sarcastic tone) "worldly advice", it's ok if I'm not that.  It's okay to want to be partnered. And someday, I will be again.

It's ok to be human. 

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go tend to my homemade spaghetti sauce.
Me? Cooking? Gasp.
Yes, folks, miracles are possible.