I am waiting for inspiration to hit me around every corner now, and it's downright damn responsible. I expect to be presented some topic I can spin for my benefit. Can I write about the coworker the other day that I saw, and I say this as fairly descriptive as I can, "flip her shit", at a new task presented to her that she obviously felt was beneath her? Can I write about how annoyed I am when, at a store, the person behind me, peers over me to check out what I'm checking out, and feels the need to comment on it all.
"Oooh. Nice shoes. I can't wear sandals like that. I'm allergic to bees." This was a legitimate quote that I swear happened to me. Where do I go from there? Ask her what kind of shoes she does like? Was she at a family reunion when the stinging took place? Which foot was it, anyway? Maybe I can remind her to carry an Epi-pen.
I didn't have much inspiration today to be honest. So I dug up an old diary I started on this laptop a few years ago. I reread it from start to finish. It was 8 months of daily entries, in the year after I was divorced. Some days I was sad, some days I was remorseful. Some days, I was just glad to be moving on. Some days, man, I was really, really pissed off. Rereading it all tonight, I cried. It is impossible for me to scratch the surface of those feelings and have no core emotional connection to them, even after a few years. My very last entry was what you see below. A little too much information, I'm sure (which is what my lawyer would warn, if I could afford to keep one on retainer), so consider this your buffer. You've been warned.
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Oct 18, 2011
Sometimes my life doesn't make sense to me. When it doesn't click with others, I could give two craps less. But when it doesn't click with me, when I have to stop to ponder why things work one way and not the other, or if I second guess myself with a "what in the hell is she doing?" (in 3rd person nonethelesss), I don't like it. The fact that I'm thrown, throws me more. I'm not a control freak, but I bet every mom out there has a twinge of this need to be in the know. It's a mother thing in the very least.
This morning, sound asleep, (Bicepual) wakes me up for a nice romp in the hay. I'm talking kissing and slurping in all the right places. Cupping and tugging things perfectly.
And it wasn't enough.
I just couldn't get there. Oh, that pisses me off. I lost concentration. The more he tried talking me through it, "What ARE you thinking about then?" the less I wanted to explore my psyche and just felt the need to remove myself from the now defunct attempt at some sexy hot lovin. I left the bed to shower and get ready for the day. Tracking back through the bedroom in the dark to get my socks on in this shitty weather turning shittier, when he called me over, his affectionate arm rub and "it happens to everyone" token of encouragement and support almost made me laugh.
And it wasn't enough.
I just couldn't get there. Oh, that pisses me off. I lost concentration. The more he tried talking me through it, "What ARE you thinking about then?" the less I wanted to explore my psyche and just felt the need to remove myself from the now defunct attempt at some sexy hot lovin. I left the bed to shower and get ready for the day. Tracking back through the bedroom in the dark to get my socks on in this shitty weather turning shittier, when he called me over, his affectionate arm rub and "it happens to everyone" token of encouragement and support almost made me laugh.
Almost.
Not a good way to start my day.
I hope the coffee gets me off.
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The very last sentence, of the very last entry I created, was there, in the making, and it obviously stuck in my head for something of what I would call future importance. So now you know. And now I remember.
I'm struck by the first sentence as well - second guessing myself in particular.
In conversations with people, I can tell they get irritated when I say things like "Things happen for a reason." Bicepual and I have taken this law of the universe and we've chewed it up, gagged on it's karma-esque bitterness, swallowed, and realized, actually, that it is a fine delicacy to the taste buds of our life.
But people don't want to hear that.
When I met Bicepual, I was just starting to divorce Hub # 1 (I cringe that I have to keep them in numerical order. Loser Alert.). I'm fairly certain that he didn't think to himself how lucky he was to have met a married mother of 2 who would spend the next 2 years crying. I'm sure he didn't feel much better when he quietly found himself falling in love with me. But, things happen for a reason.
In fact, I told him, this can be fun and all, but no love. Noooooo love. We say it, and it's done. So, he played by the rules. He refused to say it. He never let on. Nights of movies and dinners and crying (mine, not his), and he played the part well of gentleman friend.
I was the first one to tell this new beau I was falling for him. I accidentally let it slip. Never, ever in my life had I been so careless. I really did not do it on purpose. I had no idea he felt that way about me, I was most certain that with letting the cat out of the bag, I'd chase him away. But with my slip, the gates opened up to a wonderful relationship I currently have. Everything happens for a reason.
Lost jobs and cut hours have opened us up to time that we didn't even know we needed.
Time away from each other has made us appreciate the other all the more.
Time with each other has made us appreciate private time all the more.
Recently, I had a man tell me of 3 people he knew who all lost an infant or young child within 6 months of each other. He explained how it rocked their hometown. How sad it all was. I'm smart enough of a person to get it, but know that I will never, God willing, get it.
I saw my parents lose a child. It makes no difference if the child lost is 3 or 31. When my friend said it wasn't fair, I heard his need for understanding, and agree to it as I may, I still found myself eventually saying, "It all happens for a reason."
The friend looked oddly my way, and challenged, "Why not take a serial killer then? Why a kid?"
My reply did not help in his quest for a right and just answer, but I said, "Serial killers are someones child too." and our conversation dryly came to an end.
By saying things happen for a reason, I mean no fluffy spin on something sad or deterring. I'm not blissfully ignorant when it comes to someone's pain. Sometimes, I think humans look past the obvious. That old saying, if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck.....sometimes you gotta call it as it is; a duck. Or sad. Or just really shittingly unfair. I don't think bad things are meant to happen; I think the good leading up to it, or the first smile after it, is what the plan was all along.
I think of my own brother dying. If I had a dollar for every time I heard someone say, "Wasn't right. Parent isn't supposed to bury a child." I tell ya, I'd have a lot of dollars. There was definitely days we didn't feel strong so I don't always succumb to the 'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger' attitude. I think more of the smaller things, like hearing someone at the time say, if you're ever under a street light, and the light suddenly goes on, or blinks off, while you pass underneath it, that's your brother saying hello. You know something? In the 22 years since he died, a million times over, I've been under a street light, and it's blinked at me, either on or off, and I've come to hear my own children beat me to it, and say aloud, "Hi Uncle Bill."
They never even met him.
So maybe that's what meant to be. Maybe it's not for me; maybe it's not even for them, but maybe it's a lesson that will be carried on down to their children's children, who will someday be grieving over their own horrific loss and they will find comfort in a blinking light and it will give them enough courage for one more day of living on. I believe that. I have to believe in that.
And that's what makes not having a perfect life perfect to me. If I had the ability to alter outcomes in my universe, would I want to? Sure. Would I? Not so sure. I'd think about it, kick it around a lot. But had I taken any single day in my life, from my earliest memory on, and changed it, while it may temporarily alter my feelings for the better, it would simultaneously alter who I was to become.
I'm happy where I am right now. Just as unsure and insecure as the next woman, I am confidant in the person I am. Had I stopped my brother dying? Maybe I wouldn't have that type of assuredness. I would have never learned to speak in public, approach city council meetings, or tackle touchy, heated debates. He died, and I did those things at a very young age.
What if I stopped my marriage to #1? It's obvious I wouldn't have the little girls I have, who make me laugh, every single day. They lighten my burdened heart when nothing else can, and their hugs make my get up again and again.
The divorce? Ahh, the divorce. Should I have stopped that? The pain, the tears, the utter sadness, the sense of betrayal that left it's scar so deep inside me, I still have issues because of it? It would have been easier to not have all that happen, but who would it make me as the 38 year old woman I am today? Will it have strengthened me for something that is to happen when I turn 50? 80?
I'd bet I wouldn't pre-empt much, given the opportunity. Fate catches up. Either with me or with my child, or so on down the line. I'd much rather stay the blindfolded course I'm on, trusting along the way, and see where this all turns out. My own little scavenger hunt if you will. I'll always hope the coffee gets me off. Always. But for the days it doesn't, maybe I'll just slow down long enough to learn something new about myself.
I'm happy where I am right now. Just as unsure and insecure as the next woman, I am confidant in the person I am. Had I stopped my brother dying? Maybe I wouldn't have that type of assuredness. I would have never learned to speak in public, approach city council meetings, or tackle touchy, heated debates. He died, and I did those things at a very young age.
What if I stopped my marriage to #1? It's obvious I wouldn't have the little girls I have, who make me laugh, every single day. They lighten my burdened heart when nothing else can, and their hugs make my get up again and again.
The divorce? Ahh, the divorce. Should I have stopped that? The pain, the tears, the utter sadness, the sense of betrayal that left it's scar so deep inside me, I still have issues because of it? It would have been easier to not have all that happen, but who would it make me as the 38 year old woman I am today? Will it have strengthened me for something that is to happen when I turn 50? 80?
I'd bet I wouldn't pre-empt much, given the opportunity. Fate catches up. Either with me or with my child, or so on down the line. I'd much rather stay the blindfolded course I'm on, trusting along the way, and see where this all turns out. My own little scavenger hunt if you will. I'll always hope the coffee gets me off. Always. But for the days it doesn't, maybe I'll just slow down long enough to learn something new about myself.
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