Just A Little Update

So you know, I haven't like sliced my wrists or taken on that weird self mutilation thing this week. I haven't even had a cocktail, or a smoke for that matter. I think I might be doing a weeeeeeee bit better, in fact.

Misery loves company, and NB-C and I make a fine pair, so we've been raging our own little battle against the world this week and I believe it has been a great source of therapy, yes indeed. You got a problem? We'll hash it out and we'll tell you why it is you are stupid and how we would do it different. You got an issue with your boss? We'll laugh at their misery and stupidness. We'll probably burn in hell for that too...bygones. You wanna rain on our fuckoffyoustupidselfishbastard parade and we'll tell you where to go and how to get there.

It's been awesome.

Theraputic.

Plus, I think I've (FINALLY) decided to make the Northern VA/DC move. I'm about 90% sure, and a 25-minute talk with a potential employer in said region this week might have solidified my thinking. I'll keep you posted on that, although, I'm not sure it's a good idea to make life altering decisions in my current state of malaise. I'm also about to post something that is probably not a good idea, but who cares. Nothing I do is ever much of a good-in-hindsight-idea. But it's a work of sheer genius and really shouldn't be left to rot in the Microsoft Word cyberworld.

Stay tuned.

PS: SEDW it was great seeing you and the boy (and you too you super sassy, Sally Jo) on Monday & Tuesday. Thanks for listening, and thanks for grounding me...I haven't shed a tear since...I think I needed to acknowledge (admit?) exactly what it was I felt. Thanks for always understanding me, and for believing in the (im)possible with the same starry eyes as me. I love you !!!

Melancholy & The Infinite Sadness

I'm in a funk.

Not one of those "Nat's totally lost it, again" kind of funks, but the kind where an inexplicable sadness has fallen over me. I just feel sad, like I've lost my way. The kind of melancholy where I want to change everything. Where I can't run from the sadness because I know it will follow, but where I want to pack up everything and head for somewhere new. Somewhere totally illogical like a small New England town, where I could just get lost in the obscurity. It's a good thing my hair chick is on maternity leave, cause I'd probably cut my hair off and dye it purple if she weren't. It's the kind of sadness you feel for no real reason, or maybe there is a reason, it's just that it is beyond my control. It is the kind where at any point in the day tears will come to my eyes, big ones. The aligator tears. Where a knot wells up in the pit of my stomach and hurts. It's the kind of sadness where you have deja vu in the Atlanta airport, because it's Sunday, and you remember all the trips that have come to an end over the last couple months - how you've found yourself in that airport, once again, on another Sunday, like a lost soul always waiting to come home.

NB-C and I were commenting last Wednesday how this has been such a weird year so far. How it's been full of ups and downs. Highs and lows. Excitement and devastation. When it's been good, it's been great. We've had a lot to be thankful for - a lot that's gone in our favor. But when it's turned around it's been like a stab through the heart. More than we can bear. The age old irony of the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. Life's gentle reminders of just how close we come to attaining the things we want most in life, almost like being taunted and teased with them, being so close before they are all too quickly pulled from our grasp.


Just close enough to make you need it...

Just close enough to make you want it more than you ever thought you would...

Just close enough to believe...

Just close enough to make it hurt like hell...

Just close enough to make you fall...


Hard.

Wherever You Go, There You Are

Spinning.

I feel like I am spinning.

My head, my heart, my whole body seems to be moving right now and my mind, perhaps that is what is spinning most of all.

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I returned last night to Lexington after my literal world tour. I have had to continually remind myself that today is Tuesday, that it's the 20th of March, and that I'm in Lexington, Kentucky. I have never quite had the sensation I have today - of this time and day warp that I've been in - for the past twelve days.

My body hates me. It's still swaying with the ebb and flow of the water, so much so that it is hard to type, walk, or focus on any one object for long. It's making me ill. I'm so tired that I can barely think, or keep my eyes from crying, or concentrate on any task for very long. My clothes are tight from too many days of over indulgence, thousands of calories wasted on food and drink. My liver is pissed and has no desire to consume alcohol for quite awhile. My lungs are sore, my cough will not go away, and I have now officially only had one cigarette since last Wednesday night.

I am a weary traveller. I am worn down. I am worn out. I want to process the events of the last 12 days. I want to ponder the places, the people, and the events from each adventure. I want to finally take time to think about Paris, instead of being forced to quickly move away from its grasp. I want my day to have it's routine back. I want to see my dog. I want to be in my bed. I Want. To. Just. Be.

Be away from every place I've been.

I want to be home.

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I am grateful for my good fortune to be such a traveller, but I am reminded today of just what a toll it can take on you. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. The toll has indeed been taken. And yet, I will have to turn around and go back out on another journey in only 3 short days. Back to Ft. Lauderdale. Where I spent four hours yesterday waiting to come home. This trip, a wedding. Wedding of my oldest friend and the closest to a brother I have, Kevin. It will be interesting to see how my wedding anxiety disorder (WAD) and my weary traveller syndrome mix with one another. I'll probably sprout horns and turn into the devil. That is, if I haven't already.

I sure hope the motion sickness stops by then.

****************************************************************

I'll update you on the recent misadventures of the big pimp Natty later...

...When everything stops spinning.

Hey You

Today's horoscope: Be careful of advertising yourself as someone who is so strong and mentally competent that you are capable of handling everything, dear Sagittarius. Take note that the strongest mule on the trail usually ends up carrying the most weight. Your emotions are more sensitive than you may think, and certainly more sensitive than you demonstrate to others. Be honest about the way you feel, and not just the way you think.

You called about an hour ago saying you have arrived and I'm stuck in a sweltering office with nothing to do and no way to leave. Is it possible we are only minutes apart, we are 5,999 of the 6,000 miles, and yet I still can't see your face? As my Parisian friends would say "this is a probleme."

Indeed. Times wasting right in front of us and I'm trapped and powerless to do anything about it...story of my life, right? Patience. I must have patience. But its hard to have that when your eyes and all that is behind them are just around the corner...

Thank you for coming to Paris today, I hope we share much laughter and many memories until the time comes to say goodbye again...And if by chance I happen to forget to tell you when that dreaded time comes, I already miss you my friend.

Right at this moment, I think, more than ever.

Until Then...

So. I've been a kinda crappy Blogger these days.

Sue me.

I'm off to one of my most favorite cities, and X officially now marks the spot on what is sure to be a whirlwind I like to refer to as the rest of March.

Paris.
Atlanta. (Let's hope we'll see the beloved Paolo Nutini there to make that city worthwhile)
Key West.
Cozumel.
Ft. Lauderdale.

Seems logical to think that when I return spring should be rearing it's beautiful head, sandals should be the safe choice, and that pretty toes! are officially a new sporting event in this girls life. I wish I could take all your poor suckers on this trip, but alas. I can only bring along two for the ride. And this time, I choose the fabulous brown eyed Belgian to accompany me in Paris. And the fabulous Ms. Vee to accompany me to Key West & Cozumel. Yay.

I'm going to be so bored come April. I know. Poor Me. Boo Hoo.

Kidding.

Anywhooooo, I shall find some time to update you on my (mis)adventures once on the road. Pray I don't have to go to any Parisian police stations in the same car as the villian on this trip (been there, done that). Pray I don't get thrown overboard, sea sick, or overwhelmed by the desire to talk like a pirate and yell "Ahoy Matey!" at every chance I get...

So next time, from the road...

Cheers, friends.

Yeah, It Really Freaking Sucks.

www.storypeople.com / Riding Home

Observations for a Wednesday

• Tell me why it's newsworthy on MSN's Entertainment section to inform us that Paris Hilton has been pulled over for a speeding ticket. Guess what! I. Don't. Care. Now, if she had done something rivoting, perhaps. But seriously. There has to be something better to note than this.
• I keep smelling something in the air that smells like a dirty ashtray. For like 36-hours now. I bathe, I try to not smoke that much. I know that it can't be me. WTF.
• How do hotels get away with charging $43 for a plated lunch? Isn't that like, extortion or something?
• Why is it when you try to fly from LexVegas to Beantown, the only times available are either 5:00 a.m., or 10:00 p.m.?
• Do I dress horribly everyday, cause seriously, today I've had half of my office tell me how awesome I look, I think cause I'm wearing a dress, and it's so nice and all but I'm starting to get a complex for every other day that I apparently look like a slob.
• Why is it the day you get paid, your money is gone before you can touch it?
• How come the realtors in the office next to ours never wash their hands when they are done using the restroom?
• Tell me why my neighbors feel the need to lock the entrance to our apartment building even though they know I don't have a key that unlocks that door? And oh, I'm the only one who doesn't have their own private entrance??? Assholes.
• Is it really possible that I tried buying a pair of brown sandals last night, or even red ones, but ended up with my staple black instead?
• Why is it people in shitty relationships with no clear future, stay in said relationship just cause it's easier than being alone. (Myself included, past tense)
• Why do said persons feel the need to repeatedly question such decisions (myself included, past tense) instead of just making them?
• Is it spring yet? Can I wear sandals yet? Please?
• Leave for Paris a week from today? Mais, oui. Excited? Uh, yeah. Out of my freakin' mind...
• Is it me or does American Idol kinda suck this season? The little Marvin Gaye guy from last night is pretty hot though. I find myself b-o-r-e-d for the rest of it.
• I worked really hard for about 3 hours today and knocked out a lot of stuff and now I'm bored. And going to the gym...

Happy Hump Day Ya'll...

Hmmmmmm.....

Not sure where I've been the last week and a half, but it sure hasn't been on Blogger.

Bygones.

Might as well catch up now...

I'm settling in to watch the Oscars and I'll probably make it till about 10:45 before I fall asleep, because like clock work, I do it every year. Right. Before. They. Announce. The. Good. One. My vote is going to the fabulous "Little Miss Sunshine" for best picture. I adore that flick. But then again, I think the only other film I've seen is "The Departed" and I loved that too, but more in a graphically violent sort of way. Can't wait until I catch up on all these movies on Netflix. Can I just say that Ryan Secrest is annoying and should be banned from pre-Oscar red carpet reporting. I can't bring myself to listen to Joan & Melissa Rivers so I'll just shut up now.

Went to the 'Nati yesterday to visit Slimy and Joey. Hello, please just take a look at His Royal Cuteness...

This is Joey right after waking up from a nap. Hello! Have you ever seen ANYONE be that jovial after a nap? He's sure got his grouchy aunt Nat beat. I hadn't seen Joey since he was about ten days old, but I fell back in love with him the second I saw him again. Had a great time with his momma and daddy too - although it never ceases to amaze me how much Slimy and I have grown up since our first days of friendship in 1989...


In other rousing misadventures...


Finally got my nappy roots highlighted again. It's only been since the end of November. The ewwwww factor was at an all time high. Give me a break. Our fabulous hair chick is on maternity leave and as for any other excuses, unfortunately, I don't have any.

Finally cleaned my nasty apartment. Really cleaned it. Mopped and everything. It's only been since like October since I last mopped. Feelin' pretty happy about that. It's not at perfect clean status, but I'd rate it an 8 out of 10. I kinda want to move out of the Hobbit House. But seeing as I'm not sure where I want to land, I should probably just clean more often. And throw out a lot of stuff I don't need/use/wear anymore to give me some more space.


Finally went to Gulfport after a year long abscence. Had a great time with NB-C & Vee. Behaved very well at Mardi Gras. Survived crowd phobia and germ phobia quite well, I must say.


I'm sucked into the MTV's "The Hills." There is something strange in knowing how different LA girls are from those of us on the Eastern half of the country. For some reason, I really dig that show. It's kinda like the crack for this middle aged GAP-wearing-chick. I think I find myself fantasizing about having that blonde of hair, working for Teen Vogue, wearing designer clothing, eating out every night, and then hitting the hottest club with boys named Brody. Why? Because it's so not like me.


If you haven't had a listen to Paolo Nutini, you really should. A friend of mine turned me on to him a few months back and I am officially head over heels for his music. Good news is, looks like English Andy and I will get to go to a concert of his in Atlanta the night before leaving for the cruise. He's freaking HOT. Paolo that is. But he's only 19, so it's a little like being Mrs. Robinson.


I've been trying to brush up on my French a little. You would think that 8-years of French would enable you to have some ability to speak it or conjugate sentences with all those words that you can still retain. But no. So far, I should be able to explain to customs why I'll be in Paris.

"Je suis ici en voyage d'affaires pour quelques jours et aussi visite à mon ami, le Belge. Oui, j'adore le Belge!"



Yep. I really need a new change of scenery.

To All My Valentines

I was thinking tonight about how much difference a year makes when it comes to Valentine's day. I loathe this holiday, really. I always have. It seems sort of pointless to have to designate a day to tell people how you feel about them. Shouldn't Valentine's day be everyday? Do we really need a holiday to remind us to buy gifts, go to restaurants, or send cards? Last year, I was like the angry chick stuck in a circle of "what if" hell. This year, I really couldn't care less. I don't need the reassurance this year to know, to feel, that I have lots of Valentines out there, who give me love day in and day out, and not only on one day a year. That makes me happy, just to know that.

So to all my Valentines - my friends, near and far, may you know how much I love you and cherish you, and thank you for the blessings you bring to my life. It is my hope that even when I don't tell you, you always know that I am appreciative for all the moments we share.

To each of you who share my journey, to my truest of true, year in and year out, Valentines...

May you know that I miss you not being in Lexington, Trev. May you know, JAB, how glad I am that we are coming to know each other again. May you know, Jules, that the memories we've had together are some of the most favorite of my life. May you know that I will always think you are beautiful, Slimy. May you know, Beek, how my heart is full because of you. May you know, Mr. Penny, that I'm still thankful for the laughter we share. May you know, SEDW, that there isn't a day that goes by that I don't wish we could be together to talk for hours as if they were only minutes. May you know, Belgian, that our friendship and our souls likeness will leave me forever changed. May you know, NB-C, how thankful I am that my family only lives two miles away, and that my wedding dress resides, perpetually, in your basement. May you know, Vee, that there isn't a day I don't wish you were on the other couch watching movies with me, or smoking and drinking red wine with me, here. May you know that your sons and daughters smiles warm my soul, and that I can't wait to know all of the children yet to come. May each of you know that our goodbyes always break my heart because of the love I have for our friendship.

You are all my Valentines.

Not just on this day.

But on every day.

Paris je t'aime !

It's a good thing I do love it. I'm headed there in three and a half weeks...tee hee...My passport was a bit lonely with that one measely stamp in it.

Although it will be a short trip (4-days), I won't be at a loss. In fact, it'll be about 12 days before I return to the bright & sunny LexVegas from start to finish. Paris, Atlanta, Key West, Cozumel...Yep. I'll stop now...

OH! Not to mention, NB-C and I are headed to see Vee this weekend in the big Gulfport. NB-C hasn't seen the post Hurricane Katrina death and destruction before so that should be neat. We're also headed to that nasty ass New Orleans for a little Mardi Gras fun...have I ever mentioned that I am deathly afraid of crowds, crowded places, being trapped, feeling unsafe, or GERMS. Yep. We're headed to the epicenter of all those things. Sweet. But what can I say, being anywhere with those two for a few days is sure to be a blast.

Some years, like this one, it's good to be me. Let's hope 2007 keeps the blessings alive. I've got to say, I'm liking how it has started...

Vindication

Thank you, Grammy voters for giving props to the album and song, Country, Pop, or otherwise that deserved to have top honors this year.

Thank you, Grammy voters for listening to the words, to the melody behind them, and the heartfelt outpouring of the music.

Thank you, Grammy voters for standing up for what was deserved, not what was convienently and politically correct.

Thank you, Dixie Chicks for not just shutting up and singing. For having a voice. For excercising your freedom as American citizen. For pushing the boundaries. For singing loudly, and for being proud.

Thank you, for giving me an anthem over the last year. For enabling me and NB-C to sing loudly in my car, and to feel passionately about it when we do.

Every time, we do.

This chick is and always will be, proud to be called your fan.

Is It Weird That I Find This Tragic?

In case you've missed the news in the last 24-hours: read here.

We really should be ashamed of ourselves.

When is the American public's quest for more, finally going to be enough? Sometimes I think we forget that celebrities are human beings, too. Sometimes I think we should get more interesting hobbies than caring what the B-listers are up to, or how far we push until their humanity becomes nothing more than fodder for late night TV.

Sad.

The Sound of Settling

Then. 3 weeks before I left.

I have never on this blog acknowledged why it was I got divorced. To most people, they take some of the information I give them and they just accept that we were two people who weren’t meant for each other. They offer their condolences for my failed marriage, and we pass over it. Only my best friends know the story, little by little I’ve let it out. I have never publicly discussed why I got divorced, and even he, to this day, doesn’t really know everything. When it came time to leave, it was long overdue.

What I must write, is what I have spent the last two years trying to move past, these are the reasons why I’ve had to focus on learning the lesson of letting go. This is why it is so important for me to move forward. This is why there is still a sad undertone in my voice, this is why it took me a year to cry, this is why I hold on tighter than I should, this is why I am only drawn to inaccessible/emotionally unavailable men, and this is why I am still paralyzed to really move forward. I decided that I had to write about this because over the last couple of weeks I have been told by countless people, friends and strangers alike, at how happy I seem, what is more, how happy I look. It’s an interesting observation, and one I’ve noticed too, it’s what makes me know that my smile is coming back to life.

So because of that, it’s time to acknowledge the truth, it’s time to let it go, and it’s time to relinquish control of it’s (his) power over me. Settle in, it’s going to be a long one.

It begins something like this…

I met him when I was a senior in college. There at a bar, celebrating another friend’s engagement. I was drunk. He was probably high. I gave him my number, and he called me that night. We talked for three hours. It was probably the longest conversation to be had in our seven year relationship.

I went out with him the next day, and the day after that, and every day following. Ours was the type of relationship where we just all of a sudden were together. It seemed I was always with him from almost the first meeting. I knew in the first week of meeting him that I would marry him. In the early years, he reminded me of my father in a lot of ways. I felt like the true content of his character was that he was a loving and caring person with a soul that went much deeper than it appeared on the outside. I wanted to take care of him, to nurture him, to make him feel love the way I believed in it. I thought my ability to love would be enough for the both of us, enough to heal the wounds in his own heart. We spent the next three years as boyfriend and girlfriend, and had what I can only describe as a passionate relationship – when we were good, we were great. When we were bad, we were toxic.

I remember a horrible fight on Valentine’s day, two months before we were to be engaged. I remember now that at that moment I knew I should not continue with the relationship, but I did anyway. I look back these years later and I know that I confused security for love. I know now that being together day in and day out never meant that we were really friends. At the time, I guess it just seemed like we needed to move forward, like it was the right thing to do, and like we needed that commitment to prove this was a viable relationship.

He proposed to me on April 30, 2000. We had finished watching a movie with Walter Matthau and Jack Lemmon – I believe it was “The Odd Couple.” How appropriate that was in hindsight. For weeks I knew it would be happening. I dreamt of a proposal in front of my friends, or my family, or something that was the least bit romantic. Instead, he told me the ring was in his bedroom and that I could have it if I wanted. He returned with the box, and got down on his knee while I was on the couch and he asked me to marry him. He proposed to me on a couch, in an apartment we could never go back to. He gave me a ring that he wanted, not something I saw myself with. Trivial, maybe. But to me it meant that he didn’t really listen to me, or know me, or care.

I think back now, and I remember things I tucked out of my mind for many years. Before he proposed, I dreamt of a romantic proposal, and yet I knew that he was not capable of it – I knew that it would feel awkward if it was anything more than how he actually did it. I recall this now and I can identify the sound at the moment I knew the proposal would be anything less than I truly wanted.

It was the sound of settling.

So I said yes! And I went into a year long planning process that allowed my inner diva to shine. I convinced myself for one year that I was doing the right thing and that everything would be great once we were married. I still can’t figure out why I went through with it. I’m not sure it was ever a question in my mind. It’s as if I convinced myself that it was a solid relationship. That we were really friends. That common ground was just a little further out of reach.

The wedding was pretty close to perfect. The reception was a blast. It felt real when the rings were exchanged, and the vows were sealed with a kiss. I believe that we both meant it when we said “for better or worse.” I truly believe we both got married intending it to be forever.

We fought 3-days of our 7-day honeymoon. While in London he called his ex-girlfriend, who was from the U.K., to try to arrange a time for the three of us to meet. As Princess Diana so prophetically said, “You know there were three of us in this marriage.” Yes, indeed, there always were. The first year was pretty good – the first three months being a bit trying because I was laid off of work. I would shop, or go to the pool, or lounge around for most of the day – and he would come home and silently resent my hiatus. But even still, I loved being married. I loved being a wife. I loved taking care of him, because for the most part, at that time, he took care of me. We felt more solid than ever that first year. That year, and the closeness we had is what allows me to not resent him or regret getting married.

It was right around the time my sister found out she would have to have a surrogate in order to have any children, that I fell out of love for him. She was about to, at age 17, have her eggs harvested in order to have any future hope of having biological children. She had to make a choice, in a matter of weeks, to do this because of a medication she would soon be on for the rest of her life that causes severe birth defects. I said to him that I wanted to be her surrogate when the time came, that I knew I would have to have my own children first in order to follow through, but that this was the most important thing I could ever do for her, and that it was the one gift I always saw myself giving her. He said to me “under no circumstances will my wife ever do that, I don’t care what it means to you.” And at the precise moment he said those words, my heart broke and the love I felt for him, died. I knew at that moment I would never have married him had I known that he felt that way. How he could profess to understand my love for my sister, how he could know her circumstances, and how he could never understand me wanting to do the one thing I always knew that I was destined to do. I didn’t understand how he could be so cruel. I knew at that moment that he didn’t know me and he never would.

I put on a happy face, shut down emotionally, and then we spent the next two years fighting a losing battle.

The second year was a crowded one, where friends became the scapegoats for the two of us forming any sort of friendship together. He started choosing sides in fights with everyone but his wife in fights between mutual friends. His nights out never included me, and they were followed by reciprocal nights that never included him. It was a constant “one-uping” that went on between us. I went to bed earlier and earlier, he stayed out later and later. Then there were the occasional strange phone calls that when questioned about, I was told I was a stupid bitch and that I was crazy. There was the night where he came home with cocaine on the end of his nose. And the fight that followed where I told him I would never have his children. There was the everyday that included him getting high, and conversations, countless conversations, where he told me he’d never give up pot, even if it meant losing me.

It came to a head and I left for three months. I don’t even remember the conversation it took in order for me to leave. I begged him to go to counseling, to work on this marriage and he told me I was the one who needed counseling, not him. So I went to counseling, and I tried working on myself. Alone. I re-committed to trying to do everything I could to save our marriage. We hardly spent any time together during that three months, but as always, I was drawn back to him, drawn back to his open arms and lure of familiarity. We signed a contract, we made another promise to try. That was August. By October, I knew it was over, that I wanted to leave him for good.

His mother was diagnosed with lung cancer the same week. I stayed.

We planned a second honeymoon to Hawaii in December, and for the first few weeks we were back it was great. It was as if the ocean water, and warmth of the sun had renewed not only our spirits, but the love in our hearts as well. But just as I went back into his arms, I also went back into the world of text messages from women named Jen, followed by an overnight visit to see his father that ended up being a lot more suspicious than just that. Next, text messages from his ex-girlfriend – the one who would never go away – and what she wanted to do to him. That was followed by text messages about that night he had to get home “to work” after Thanksgiving, the one where whoever she was had a great time and couldn’t wait to see him again – I remember it well, because it’s the one that cost me a friendship. Finally, to condoms in the console of his truck “for his friend Todd.” That was the day he wouldn’t talk to me at all, because I was a crazy bitch, the night where Todd came over and they shut the door to the bedroom and barely spoke above a whisper. It was the day in which all the words he ever uttered to me still resonate the loudest. It was the one thing he said to me which I am still unable to, but everyday trying to let go of: “You are nothing and nobody will ever love you.”

It was the loudest sound of settling I have ever heard.

I left him twenty days later.

I married a man whose family I adored. Who I believed could change. Who inherently was a good person, just not to me. I married him because it was the thing I thought I should do, not because I couldn’t imagine my life without him. For seven years, I never wrote a word, let alone a sentence. I never scribbled a poem. I never heard a song where the words reminded me of him. I never smiled the way I have smiled in the past three weeks, six months, or even the past two years since our parting. I married a man who let me slip away, who resented everything I ever loved about myself, everything I held most dear, and who wouldn’t fight for me. I married a man who never knew me. Who never really laughed with me. Who never kissed me the way I needed to be kissed. Who never looked into my eyes and understood who I was, ever. Someone who never wanted to be my friend. Who never wanted me to question him, or challenge him, or make him aspire to become anything better, even though I knew he could be. I married a man who I don’t believe ever gave me butterflies, or who could make me cry because the thought of being without him, hurt.

But it isn’t fair to blame the ending of the marriage, of the relationship, solely on him. Some people no matter how hard you try, never quite seem to fit. The puzzle never really comes together, and you find yourself looking to everyone and everything else to fill that empty space…to feel that love you are supposed to have. When you have to look to everything else to fill the void, you probably need to evaluate the reason why.

I will admit, I wasn’t perfect in my marriage. I made mistakes, too. I messed up, I crossed lines I shouldn’t have crossed, and I failed at living up to my end of the bargain. But I tried. I tried with every sad ounce of my former being. I know, and have peace, that I did do that much.

I married a man whose toxicity was like a lethal dose of my own medicine. I longed for everything more, in a world I no longer knew, and feelings I forgot I had. I became someone who wasn’t really myself, and I’ve spent almost two years trying to reclaim that person I lost. It’s taken a hell of a long time to get back to finding any resemblance of the person I was, and there have been a lot of demons I’ve had to face along the way. I’m not there yet. But I’m getting closer. Acknowledging this part of my life and what happened is something I have to do, now, in order to continue to move forward. In order to let go.

I’m trying every day to be a better person, and I’m forgiving myself for the mistakes I’ve made. I have forgiven him, too. There is still a little part of me that is saddened by the breakup between us. Inherently, I will always hold a piece of him in my heart, and I will always try to be on his side. After all, it was because of him that I am able to be where I am today. When I left, I didn’t let it get ugly. That’s not what it was about to me. My leaving was about me and me alone. My leaving was about who I was at my core, and how I knew I needed to get back. A long journey, where the road hasn’t been easy, where the lessons about letting go have been stern, but a journey where the road has meant something more to me than I would ever have known had I not taken it. And yet, it’s been almost two years, and I still don’t know how I can, how I will, or how to receive…

Love.


The irony is that it is the one thing that I believe in the most. And yet, it is the only thing that eludes me, still.

I hear that sound every once in awhile, that sound of settling. It scares the hell out of me now. I am paralyzed to this day by the words he said. That they will somehow ring true. That happiness will continue to elude me. That true love, the kind that fills your soul, where the friendship brings tears to your eyes, the kind I dream about, will somehow pass me by.

But then I look at this life I have and I am beginning to trust that his spell is broken, and that whoever it is that inevitably steals my heart, is lucky to have found me, and will be lucky to love me. The sound of settling screams at me now instead of coming to me like a whisper. I listen to its warning and I am able to believe that there is a life ahead that is filled with love beyond my wildest dreams, beyond any life I have already known. However long it may be before it finds me, I will have no regrets, and I will trust what I already know…

It will find me.

Now. 3 weeks ago.

Is This a Joke?

Okay, I'm trying to remain calm about this sudden burst of artic air, but the longer this wicked cold persists, the more I want to pull every strand of hair from my head. I. Cannot. Stand. It.

I can understand that we were unusually blessed to have had a mild winter up until last week. I can be okay with the fact that we were doomed to have some sort of cold front - some cold weather, but come on. Three weeks of frigid? Every waking moment of windows that are drafty, a desk at work that rivals Antartica, and not to mention blowing off the gym because I have become paralyzed by the fear of what will happen to me once I am sweaty and Egads! step out into sub-zero temparatures! I'm sure even a doctor wouldn't recommend putting my health in jeopardy, because surely the health benefits of cardio would be lessened by a bout with pneumonia.

Slimy? Can you concur? Or at least tell me my neurosis is justified?

I really am a fan of mild temperatures. Love the spring. Love the fall. Love to never be at one extreme or another. I am a hostage in the Hobbit House. It's an inferno in the summer. It's an igloo in the winter. And seriously, those asshat neighbors of mine, I think are messing with me too. I can't even manage to get a hot shower. It's like they sit in their apartments below me and convienently keep their heat low and turn on and off their water at the same time I'm showering every morning just to prevent me from ever being warm!!! It's freaking ridiculous!!!

I can't help but wonder, what happens if it never ends! What if it's like this forever! What if I'm perpetually held hostage by cold air and threats of snow! It's frightening people!

Sleeping in flannel pants, socks, and a hooded sweatshirt is just not my style. And even a dog pressed up against me and a down comforter doesn't seem to help.

Forget this.

I'm moving to Hawaii, where the sun always shines, the water is always warm, and the temperature rarely goes below 80 degrees. I can imagine myself there now, all happy and warm, basking in the sun and all its glory...

...and yes, I'll try to forget (NB-C) who was there with me last...I know, I know, I should have taken you.

Bygones.

Happy Birthday Baby Girl !

I love you, Rebekah!!! I still can't believe you are 22 already - but I will never forget the day you were born for as long as live. How could I ever have known how much you would bless my life, all of our lives...You are God's gift to me, and to so many who are lucky enough to know and love you. I am so proud to have you as my sister.

On My Belgian's Soil

  
Ten days ago I left on a journey. A journey to someplace new. To a life and culture foreign to my own. Ten days ago, days that have slipped through my fingers quicker than sand...

Ten days ago, I left on a journey a much different person than when I returned. I can already say that with a profound certainty. I returned with an inner peace that I had not expected to find. A journey without the fixed mark of a destination, a journey which has brought me another step closer to myself.

I stepped in only for a moment to peer into someone else's world - into the life of a most treasured friend, and into the world of many people whom I will never forget. I tiptoed briefly as a stranger in a strangeland and found myself with eyes that were always ready to see more, a profound eagerness to learn, a true desire to meet new friends, and to genuinely appreciate all that was put before me.

Belgium was magical.

It was the kind of trip everyone should have at least once in a lifetime. And it was such a trip because of my tour guide. I really couldn't have had a better one, or one that I would have wanted to have more. Anyway, perhaps that's something for another day, but before I get to caught up on that, here are a few observations from this American Girl on her Belgian's soil:

• Belgium is flat. For some reason I thought it would be mountainous. But no.
• The grass is really green. Like green as in astroturf green. I wonder if that saying "the grass is always greener on the other side" might really be true.
• American's need to walk more. And ride bikes more. And be friendlier to those around them.
• Some songs like "Dear Mr. President" can really rile up a Belgian. Or songs that are themes for the different cities. The Red Hot Chili Peppers seem to have found their spot, Christina Aguleria and Beyonce are overplayed. And favorite songs, sound all the better when the person they remind you of is sitting next to you.
• Who knew? They love Hillary and don't, euhm, care for our current commander in chief.
• People are friendly in Belgium. They buy drinks for everyone in the bar. They talk to each other and not in a fake, "hi how are ya," don't really care but thanks kind of way.
• Belgian pubs rock. Especially the Continental. And the beautiful bartender and her fabulously-lemony-and-oh-so-delightfully-intoxicating drinks.
• I apparently look like Barbra Streisand, even in Belgium.
• Belgian beer is the best. Undoubtadly. Unquestionably. And the glasses are pretty great, too. Even the ones that make you look silly when you drink from them, ahem, Kwak.
• Cows in Belgium look different. They are mostly white but all seem to have color on their ankles, and I think they are fatter but not fat in an American-we-will-inject-all-animals-with-hormones kind of way. Not to mention that they sure are tasty!!!
• You can still smoke in the hospitals -- cafeteria only. But not in some restaurants.
• Dining is enjoyable in Belgium. It's relaxed. It's un-hurried. It's what it should be always like. It's take your time and enjoy your food and your company. There is a pretty fabulous one called LaRiva that you should go to next time you happen to be in Antwerp.
• Cake time is 4:00 p.m.!!!
• Belgian waffles really do taste better in cafe's in Gent.
• Ice cream is a perfectly acceptable lunch.
• I have finally found a country who has the same profound appreciation for the finest food in all the world :: the fry. I won't say the "F" word, because as I know now, it was really the Belgians who created that wonderful treat. God bless them for it!
• The sun doesn't come up until after 8:00 a.m. and sets by 5:30 or so. That makes for lots of time to sleep.
• Did you know that there are Buckeye's in Brussels? I found one in the park. Of all things. I found a Buckeye. (Nut that is)
• Maybe what I observed most of all, and appreciate most of all is that some things are the same no matter what your geographical location: The struggle of the heart and how it affects all of us.

I think if I sat here long enough I could think of a million more reasons to fall in love with a place like Belgium. There is so much to love and to look at with awe and true wonderment. It leaves you wishing that you could ever have a life filled with so much culture and heritage and pride. It makes you see how wasteful American's are, how desensitized we are to just enjoying life because we always are in a hurry to get to whatever is next. How we have lost the ability to enjoy each other, and each other's company. It makes you long for something more...

And yet, there is a familiar ease in coming home. An ease to be back in your routine, and your way of life...A comfort in the faces of the people who are your friends, and the sky and the sun and world that make up your surroundings. Even still, I seem to be unable to unpack my luggage, as if that simple act will make the reality of being home...well, real.

I think now back to the beginning of my journey only ten days ago, how I felt at the moment I stepped off the plane. A stranger in a strangeland...an American Girl in a place that seemed so foreign. On her Belgian's soil. The same girl who when she left only seven days later, looked back as we drove away, away from a place that now seems so familiar.

What I have taken with me, what has been changed in me because of my few but blessed days on my Belgian's soil is that I will never forget now what it means to take time to enjoy. I feel renewed, and confident that I will go out more and make time to enjoy those friends around me. I will make myself enjoy the outside, even when it's cold. I will walk more places. I will speak to people instead of being cordial. I will slow down. I will drink good beer, definitely champagne, and I will always eat fries. I will dream of a time and a place when I was spoiled more than I deserved. I will remember what it is to live every moment.

I will think about the spirit and the smiles and the laughter of the people I met, how they never treated me as a stranger...and I will know...I will cherish...I will remember...

I am forever changed.

  

  

  

  

  

The Bitch Is Back

Had the most fantastic week in Belgium...I will fill all you eager people in as soon as I can come up for air...but let's just say I will have memories to last a lifetime, smiles to fill the sad days, and the blessing of friends, new and old, who make my journey the best ride anyone could ever hope for.

Much Needed Hiatus

Hi.

I'm travelling abroad right now. Well not right this second. But soon. I will be. Like in about 24-hours or something silly like that. So you must amuse yourselves and pull up a chair in about 9-days. I'm sure I'll have something to say. Pictures to be seen. Stories to be told. We'll see. Anywho! Off to the big B! Wish me luck that I make my flight. Wish me luck that my luggage arrives. Wish that next week will make up for the random/crazy/crappy week of this past one (aside from fun honor/trip)... More on that later. Cheers friends! Kisses!

Sing Me a Song of the Islands

It's sort of been a strange few weeks. But I'm totally digging 2007...I got selected to the elite circle at my place of employment today. Selected to join a chosen few who are recognized for their hard work and commitment to the company over the last year. It's a huge honor and reward - and my prize is a 4-day cruise around the Caribbean...Oh, did I mention its all expenses paid. For me. And a friend. I'm giggling. Tee hee...

And The Battle Rages On

Time to begin looking for a new job. Or maybe new career.

Somethings came to my attention this morning that have finally marked the place where I must begin to make a decision about the future of my career. Unfortunately, I don't want to leave my current surroundings - but may be forced to. Perhaps this is the time to make a decision about moving as well. Albeit much sooner in the year than I had hoped.

Anyone have any suggestions of:

1) What I should do with the rest of my life?

2) Where I should call home!


I work in a pink collared ghetto and the man is keepin' me down.

Beotche.