Life Is Crazy

It is, it really, really is. Things change, things end and begin. Tiny flickers of hope appear in places where you never expected to see them. I have much to talk about and no time to do so. This is merely a promise to myself . . . I will write and I will think and I will learn. I have notes to myself everywhere.

“Write something, dammit!”

I will. But for now, I am having a girl’s weekend, and it’s time to go get something to eat.

Upon Further Reflection

I confess, I don’t always read the comments when I read other people’s blogs. It really just depends on how much time I have at any given moment. Anyway, I clarified a few things in a reply to a comment on my previous post and since I assume that at least a few people share my shameful burden of not always reading the comments, I’m going to repost it here. Because I can and why not. I want all this crap out and over with, you know? I was replying to a person who thought I was sad over him specifically and/or thinking of him.

Oh, I am not particularly interested in how he is. I hope his wife and child are well, and I hope in a vague sort of way that he isn’t crushed by heavy machinery or kidnapped by pirates, or anything ridiculous like that, but in general I don’t spend any significant amount of time actually mooning over (the current reality of) him.

I kind of miss the fake him, or at least the idea of the fake him. Call me stupid and sentimental. Fake him meshed with real me quite nicely. But once I realized, truly internalized, what he did, the cheating on his PREGNANT wife part and the callous disregard for my emotional and mental health part, I realized that the real him is quite simply not a man I want to know. And if real him happened to get a little karmic payback at some point in his future, I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. But I’m not wishing for it, either.

My bursts of sadness have more to do with me. I WANT what I thought we had, with someone who is actually deserving of my love and passion. I want that, so much.

I think that last paragraph is the most important point here. And I’ll be the first to admit that it took me a while to figure that out. It’s really only been in the last few days, as I’ve been wondering why on earth I am still experiencing sadness over this, that it finally clicked. It’s about me and what I want from life, from love, from the relationships that I have now, that I may have in the future. Hell, probably ones from the past, too.

I need to figure out what I want out of life. Sounds easy enough, right?!

Wine, Friends and Cthulhu

I’m heading out for a haircut and then heading to lunch with a friend. Then I’m driving to my cousin’s for a night of wine and more friends. I miss my son already, especially when he cries as I leave. It hurts my heart. But I need some time for me, too. That has been a hard realization to come to as a mother.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I have a few things to explore more thoroughly, but it will have to wait until I return.

In the meantime, my holiday wish for you . . . a sentiment I think we can all get behind.

Desiderata

After my angry post, no matter where I turned I kept running into words meant to soothe me. Which, admittedly, was a bit annoying, as I had a pretty decent burn built up and therefore wasn’t particularly in the mood to be soothed. Isn’t is funny how things work out sometimes? From my Thich Naht Hahn quote, which were the first very words I laid eyes on as I flipped through a book to find my last place, to this poem, which a wonderful friend of mine felt compelled to send to me only yesterday, it was like the world wanted me to get a grip.

I can’t say it will last, in fact, I know darn good and well that it won’t, but again, it is a start and I am breathing.

Enjoy.

DESIDERATA

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexatious to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain or bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

                                              — Max Ehrmann

Reclaiming My Own

So many things remind me of him, of us, of what we had, seemed to have, all that. And I’ve been avoiding certain things, thoughts of things, songs, places, and so on, because of that. Because of the feelings evoked, of the pain that shoots through me, because I was weak. I’m still weak, occasionally, momentarily, but overall I am strong and I will prevail. You can’t eat me. You can’t have my soul.

I love this picture, it is one of my favorite pictures of me and my son. And I let it be tainted, because it involved him. But you know what? He can’t have it, it is mine. I love it, my friends love it, and I look damn good in it. I’m taking it back. And that is a start.

I Don’t Like Birthdays

More specifically, I don’t like my own birthday. I used to love my birthday, and not just as a child. Throughout my twenties and even into the beginning of my thirties, I was still all about the birthday. Drinks? Sure. Presents? Aww, thanks. Cake? Why the hell not? Undivided attention? Yes, please! But no longer. I suppose it started changing once I finally realized that if I kept on having birthdays then one day I’d be forty. And who the hell wants to be in their forties? Not me. Definitely not me.

My birthday this year, well, it was horrid, terrible, painful. Devastating. I found out the man who said me loved me, the man I loved with all my heart, had a wife. Happy birthday to me, indeed. It was the night before, to be specific, but still. My birthday is tainted, oh yes it is. My birthday, already not my favorite day to begin with, is now the day I forgot how to breathe, the first day of many I spent on the floor crying, the day I couldn’t open my eyes. I didn’t talk to anyone, go anywhere, nothing.

I think I had a point when I started this post, and I swear it was supposed to be a small positive one. Hmm. Oh, right . . . I bought myself a present, that was the point. I bought it a month or so ago, when they first announced them, but it will soon be here and I am trying to be happy for something every day. So, I’m being happy that soon I’ll have a new Kindle Fire to play with.

Oh yes, and I feel empty, alone and unloved. Also vaguely panicky, but none of that is positive, so I’ll save it for another time.