Finding Forty; Day 392; Letter to My Best Friend

In the days since I've last written, my life has been full of great and beautiful things.   Our road trip to Destin produced my children's laughter, stolen moments of aloneness with A,  crashing waves on sugar white sand, miles of new scenery, and time spent with the people I love most.   The vacation was many things...trying, tiring, amazing, worthwhile, but we created memories that will last a lifetime.


Now that I am home a sort of malaise has befallen me.   I think this email to my best friend says it best of all.

"Good morning!   I hope you found your bath to be both relaxing and meditative.   I truly hope it was.   I have not been in a really relaxed, contemplative state in quite a while.   Yes, I've had moments of peace and true relaxation, but in the past week or so something has happened.

I hate that it's so hard to pinpoint the source of my feelings or to even be able to articulate them.    First of all, I am exhausted.   I can barely move or do anything without feeling like I want to sleep for days.   It makes me apathetic about everything and minor chores or activities seem like climbing Mount Everest.  I'm dizzy all the time, anytime I move or shift my head or body positions.   Actually, it's vertigo because the room spins.   I just have to close my eyes and hold onto something until it passes.   Both of these have really bummed me out, so I find myself crying more this week about not feeling good.   I have a  dr. appointment tomorrow morning, so that should help some (or at least I hope it does).

Also, I have realized lately that my feelings have evened out.   In the beginning, when I realized I did want to be with A for the rest of my life,  I felt like this was a good thing and I still do see the merit of being level headed and not all over the place with my emotions, but I also almost feel numb.   That isn't like me and that bothers me too.    

I'm not sure if I've matured emotionally or if the sheer exhaustion of my past two years has finally caught up with me or if I have a genuine health condition that is causing this or what?

And it's the not knowing that possibly bugs me the most.

The fear is creeping in as well about our future.   Will A and I make it?  Do we have what it takes?  Is he really in this?  How much DOES he love me and want to be with me?  How much do I love him and want to be with him (a ton, btw, provided I get what I need in return)?   What will happen with our finances?  When will we declare personal bankruptcy?  What will I do with the apartment?  Will I move back in to the house?  What can we afford?  How will I pay my bills?   What if I am sick?  What about my new job?  How will that be?  Can I really do it and do it well?  

And so on and so on and so on.

On top of all of this are these random thoughts about S.   I just can't seem to make him get out of my mind permanently.   I realize he's gone and I've made no efforts to contact him and it's been 15 weeks (I'll stop counting someday, right?).   I'm better off and I know that, but I still do miss him in this unhealthy sort of way and there is no one in this world I could confess that to except you.   I just know you understand.

I know you aren't going through the same in terms of exact worries, but I know your heart and mind are heavy or at least I sense they are in some way.    What are we going to do?

I so wish you lived close.  If I knew we could get together after work and just laugh things off a bit, I think that would be priceless therapy.   Instead, lately, I've let my busy life and efforts to refocus on my family push you further out and that makes me sad.   I miss you too.

Please let me know how you are doing and what's going on.   And as always, thanks for letting me vent.

Can't wait to see you in August!!!"

I just know friends understand.

Finding Forty, Day 374; Achilles' Heel

Constantly I search for visible signs that I've grown and changed.   I suspect strongly they're present, I just can't see them from the outside.   I know I feel it on the inside.

Today I was reminded how far I have actually come.

To say that I am 100% over S would be a lie.   The truth is, I think about him every single day in some small way.   Maybe I'll drive past the place where we first kissed (okay, I do that everyday as it's right across the highway from our house), or a particular song will come on the radio and I'm transported back.   I wonder about him, what he's doing, if he ever thinks of me.   And then I snap back to my reality, the reality I am truly enjoying.

 I know I've inched further down the path because how those things affect me is less intense and not debilitating anymore.

There was, in fact, a time when I believed people do die from broken hearts.    Now I see the walking wounded all around me, stronger than before.

But, I digress.

Here is how I know I've grown today.

My sister has a conference in Dallas from Sunday to Tuesday and she will be alone.   We live 5 hours apart and Dallas is halfway.   She invited me to stay with her and genuinely wanted me to come.   At first, I said yes.    Then I started thinking about it.

S lives just outside of Dallas.   Two years ago, I would have jumped at this opportunity and would have spent time on the phone planning with him when I might be able to sneak over to see him or meet him somewhere.  

Wow, just writing about it makes me feel horrible.

One year ago, I would have not been able to tell him I was coming but would have still driven past his office, stopped at the same convenience store he stops at every morning, been out and about where I thought he might be and most likely have called him and told him I was nearby, hoping he'd "let" me stop and say a painful, heartbreaking hello.

Writing that makes me feel worse than horrible.

This year, I texted my sister and told her I couldn't meet her in Dallas.   Not only is the price of gas atrocious and we are leaving for Florida in 4 days, but I didn't want to make that trip and put myself through any temptation or misery.

I can't say that I wouldn't do any of the above if left to my own devices while she attends her conference.   I don't want to know how weak I am or might be.   And even if I didn't do anything, I don't want to even have the conversation I would surely have with myself about it.

I want to be here, at the house, googling Gulf Coast routes and packing duffle bags for boys.

It pains me that S is my Achilles' Heel, but more than that, I'm overjoyed that I recognize it now and can make healthy decisions.

My family deserves that.   Hell, I deserve it.

And that feels pretty good.

Finding Forty; Day 372; 30 Rock Monster

The green eyed monster took a huge bite out of my dimpled ass and poisoned me this week.    I hate being jealous, but I am.

We've been watching a lot of 30 Rock reruns this summer and I find myself amazed and in awe of the level of creativity on that show.

I understand their sort of humor is an acquired taste, but it's a flavor my family relishes.   As I sit and listen to the absurd lines that are both written and expertly delivered, I yearn to do something that brilliant.

I'm actually funny in "real life", with a quick wit and a sharp tongue.  But when I sit down to write, all that pours forth are ponderings and deep thoughts.   I'm the Jack Handey of my generation, full of useless nuggets of wisdom, worry, and whatnot.

When I read other writers who are able to channel funny into their blogs or scripts, I crave that sort of giftedness and yet I can't escape my head.

I want to write about stupid things I've said or done that day, but instead I use this platform to work out my more melancholy and serious thoughts.   I know I want and need to write more this summer, so maybe I'll make a concerted effort to work on the humor.    It doesn't mean the somberness will dissipate, but I will try to balance more.

The characters on 30 Rock resonate with me.   I am at once Liz and Jenna combined; quirky and nerdy with a penchant for embarrassing myself while at the same time craving attention.   I think that is why I love the show as I do.   In so many ways, I think I could have written those lines because I've lived them.

So, funny it is.   Which is really so NOT funny.   The fact that I'm whining about wanting to be funny just emphasizes how far I have to go.

Oh well...at least I'm not crying about asshole men or my obsessive tendencies or drunk texting.   Although, I suspect there's huge humor in those moments too.   It's all in how you spin it.

Back off, Green Eyed Monster, I'm done with you.

Stay tuned for the summer experiment....

Finding Forty, Day 367; A New Year

I'm two days past my first anniversary of this blog.   I suppose that means I should redefine, rename, refocus in some way.   At some point I probably will, but just can't be arsed with it for now.

My mind is fluttering, flittering elsewhere.

To begin with, I was "unofficially" offered the teaching job!  The hiring committee selected me as their first choice, but I've not yet signed any paperwork.   I found out earlier this week and danced a jig in the middle of the aisle in Target.   It was a silent, solitary moment of pure happiness and relief.   With my shopping excursion thrown completely off track, I quickly paid for my few items and rushed to tell A the good news.  With business and consequent personal bankruptcy looming, me having a solid job is a lifesaver.   Many thanks were whispered, shouted, uttered through tears that evening.

Since finding out, I've enjoyed daydreaming about my new school, my new crop of kids, my fellow teacher and future friends and confidantes.   I'm happy to get a fresh start with people who don't know me and the baggage I haul.   In time, I'm sure they'll find out, but when and what I choose to share will come from a more tranquil, healed place.

I like new beginnings.

The other thoughts occupying my mind is our upcoming summer vacation.   We are making a road trip, with two other families, to Destin, Florida in a little less than two weeks.

Crazy?  Probably.   But we are all so very excited.  I am an extensive list maker and it's been so much fun to ponder all of the things we need to pack and bring.   Last summer, we went to the Texas coast but A and I were deep in the midst of turmoil.  We shared a bedroom, but little else.  I was angry, resentful, lonely.   I found fault in just about everything he did, from spending too much time with the kids to chewing noisily.    In short, I was an asshole.

For his part, he was angry and hurt and had no reason or desire to let me in.   It was a feeble attempt to create some false sense of family, as if by pretending to walk on the beach together would instantaneously bond us together.

It was a colossal failure and shortly after, we separated.

Technically, we live apart still.   I pay rent to a 1200 sf apartment that is almost as expensive as our mortgage payment.    And yet, I am writing this from the bedroom we shared for 12 years and are slowly beginning to share again.  

I can't type this without crying.   I love him so much, I can't believe I was so willing to throw it away in a haze of shortsighted stupidity.

My new secret dream is for us to remarry each other.   Although we aren't divorced, I broke our vows and I want to recommit my heart and life to him.

Now isn't the time.  I can't yet tell him I want to do this.   But hopefully, someday.

Maybe this year's trip to the beach will bring forth a new beginning of another sort.