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For very long I’ve kept very quiet about very much. While
I’m not prone to rampant acts of disclosure, and while I recognize that the
internet seems to be the repository of every fleeting feeling every half-wit
(and half that) may feel, I do believe it’s time to shake out a few rugs and
clear a few cobwebs. And, because I’m fond of lists, I’ll bullet point this
fine fancying of mine.
- I’m working 30+ hours/week during this holiday season; a change from the last 6 years of my life, which were solely devoted to raising my babes and keeping a home and garden (amongst many other things). I enjoy my co-workers and I like my department and I’m grateful to have the chance to re-establish myself in the working world again, but retail is draining and demanding and has left me raw and withdrawn. Many have supported me during this return to work, and I am so incredibly grateful to them for their love and good cheer and offers of babysitting.
- I’m exhausted. Mentally, physically, and spiritually I am spent. I have found that the rigors of maintaining the perception of normality while living with my former partner has left me feeling used and fraudulent, like the fifty dollar bills Data finds in the Fratelli’s basement. More on this to follow, once there is finality.
- An exercise in careful contemplation, as a random glimpse of an evening’s emotions that I might maintain: Imagine that someone you would assume would work in the best interest of others has decided to transport ill children (pinkeye, upper respiratory infections, fever) to his mother’s house in the middle of a snowy state under the threat of a snowstorm, in that he may have a 48-hour date in a far-flung major city with his current girlfriend. Ponder your response. I imagine it would leave me distraught, unnerved, and enormously sad.
- Dating is awkward and relevant and irrelevant and surprising and fun, at times. I imagine that if someone was actually interested in me, they would be interested in me. See the Momus video, referenced in my previous entry, “We’re Here One Minute, the Next One We’re Dead.” If I am what you think I am, or if you want to know what you think I am, then let your curiosity guide you. I will not do the work for you.
- I love my friends. Again, you know who you are. Thank you for understanding me when I say I want to hang out with you and then I change my mind, because I can, because I can’t, because I can, because of my eye of the storm. None of you are getting Christmas gifts this year, and every one of you doesn’t care. I love you even more for this. For those of you that gave me something during this season—either your time or something in/tangible (a job, a cd, a crocheted coffee cozy, skype time, felt foxes for my babes, a card, a story of your failed/successful relationship, a call, a hug—so, so many hugs, an hour of babysitting/swapping, a drink, a lunch, a kiss/et al, a smile), you are the vitality that helps me breathe easier and cry comfortably; the balm that has helped my sore soul stay (mostly) in shape, the glue that keeps me from losing bits of myself along the path. I am so lucky to have you in my life, all of you.
- It's been six months (the summer solstice, to be exact) that this union was officially dissolved. The divorce papers will be submitted in January. Celebration will come with the housewarming, at a later date, and I look forward to a better night’s sleep that only one’s own nest can bring.
