Finding Forty, Day 325; Peacester

Happy Easter!

 In many ways this feels like an obligatory blog.   I don't want it to be quite that way.   Maybe I have more to say than I realize.

Work is dragging me down.   I am definitely terminated and will no longer be employed by my school district past June 1.   Showing up everyday and putting on my 'happy face' just gets harder and harder.  While I can accept what's happened on the surface, with each passing day I become more and more confused as to why I was one of the few who was let go.

My ego is so wrapped up in all of this, there is no simple way for me to 'not take it personally'.   It affects every personal realm of my being, including the livelihood and wellness of my children.  I am angry.  For a while, I've put off talking to my boss about things, trying to squelch the emotion and move into a spot of neutral acceptance, but the longer I attempt to do that, the more embittered I become.

I sent an email late last week asking to speak with her about the lay off.   While nervous and anxious about the prospect of facing her, I must have some answers, even if I am leery that they will be honest.

Job hunting is mentally exhausting.   I search and search and my current skill set leaves me empty handed.  My goal, thus far, has been to apply to two per week.   Better get on that later today.

As for my love life, well...I continue to be committed to repairing things with A.   This morning, the image of Dorothy and Oz came into my mind.   I awakened at 4 a.m. and realized I needed to set out the boys' Easter baskets.   I shuffled through the living room in the dark, retrieved their hidden stash of goodies from the pantry and sequestered myself in the laundry room to assemble the baskets.   Sorting through each boys' pile of goodies, I felt extreme happiness.   In that moment, in the wee hours before dawn, while each of my boys (including A) slept soundly, I realized there was no other place in the world I'd rather be.  Dorothy knew what she was talking about when she said "There's no place like home."

We are tentatively moving ahead.  I know A needs space and time and that patience will be my biggest ally during this transition.  He still loves me, of that I am certain and deep down I believe there is a chance for us.   I must wait and just let things be.

It seems bizarre, but I find myself able to just 'be' like never before, especially as it relates to us.   Our friendship is strong and secure and that brings me joy.  Our family is tight, weaved with years of love and devotion and there is immeasurable comfort in that reality.

As I was driving home from work the other day, it occurred to me that I haven't talked to S in ages.  It hasn't even crossed my mind.  The thought that I could, at any time, reach out to him if I so desired gave me such a feeling of power and success.   I can but have zero desire.   Finally, I feel free.

So, despite my job situation, I still feel blessed.  I feel a level of contentment I haven't experienced in quite some time.    No, I feel more than contentment.   I feel, at last, peace.

This is a Happy Easter indeed.

Finding Forty, Day 311; Why?

For a while now I've been thinking of a particular subject for this next blog.   It was going to be about the perks of living alone, like eating Baked Cheetos at midnight in bed, never having to do laundry, or being able to talk OUT LOUD to yourself and not worry if anyone hears you.

But the more I thought about those things, which truly can be great in the moment, the more I realized they don't make me as happy as I thought they would.

I want mashed potatoes and meatloaf.   I want grey sweat pants and thick socks.  I want morning breath and bedhead.   And I want those things with A.

Something happened to me recently.   Were I a character in a movie, there'd surely have been a scene where I hit my head on the bathroom tile or drank a strange potion from a glass vial, but I can't figure out the moment when my universe as I know it altered.

I just know it did.

Suddenly, the things that are the most important to me in life are the little things I neglected and forgot about when I started down that forsaken path a few years ago.

I want a hand to hold.   A body next to me in bed.   Someone to share the newspaper with on Sunday morning.

I want to bicker about what we watch on t.v. and what we want for dinner.   I want to look at him from across the soccer field as he leans over and whispers into our son's ear and know he's mine.

I feel so stupid for not knowing how loved I was.

So, I type this, wrapped in a towel, sitting on the floor of my closet in my new apartment.

The Cheetos are in the kitchen, the laundry patiently waits in a pile,  and I can say anything I want, as loud as I want.

Today, into the empty cavern of my very own place, I say out loud...."Why?"