From The Back Seat Of My Uber

I typed this up, then published it, while in the back seat of my uber, quite tipsy, Tuesday night. I woke up Wednesday morning, and immediately removed it from my published list.  I’m scared to death of sharing this. I don’t know why I am so terrified to share it. But, here I go.

11/12/19

I never believed, wholly, in love at first sight.

Until it happened.

I fell in love. It wasn’t here. It wasn’t tonight.

It’s odd, and only a select few know.

I figured, honestly, if I said it out loud to a few friends, that I’d understand how crazy it sounded. I think you all know what I mean. Things sound normal in your head, but as soon as you speak it out loud you think “What? NO. Nevermind. That is stupid.”

Every time I say it out loud, it becomes more real. More natural. Unlike when you come across some feeling that’s completely insane. I am completely, 100%, head over heels in love.

How?

WHY?

I don’t understand!

Someone, please.

I know exactly WHEN it happened. The moment. The place. The second. When my heart cried “it’s him!” And jumped around inside my chest, attempting escape. And I yelled back, “no! NO!”

I cried at the realization.

This isn’t fair.

This isn’t right.

This is far too complicated.

Ouch.

That pain is real.

My heart.

I have to keep it to myself, but I need to get it out.

Does he realize? Am I obvious about it?

Please don’t leave.

I love you.

I’ve been holding this close. I’ve been in denial. I don’t like it. I don’t think I am ready for this.

I just know that I will walk through hell to make sure this man is happy, and if that isn’t love, then I don’t know what is.

How do you even do love these days?

How does this work?!

This doesn’t make sense, to me.

We aren’t even dating. He’s not even my boyfriend. I don’t even think he’s INTERESTED!

We’ve never been intimate!

Ouch. OUCH!

For FUCK’S sake!

Why is/are the god, goddess, gods, universe, or fate like this with me! I know I was built strong, but damn.

I’m so tired.

Can I just have it easy for once in my LIFE?!

Just. Once.

One time.

This sucks.

He is literally amazing, and the fear of losing him as my friend is so terrifying I can’t tell him how I feel.

But the pain of keeping it inside is so deep. It’s so ragged and raw.

In order for me to feel okay, I have to hit publish. But when I hover over the “publish” key, I panic. Heart racing, and sweat begins to bead at my brow. What if he sees and knows? What if family reads and wonder? What if… What if… What if… The epitome of anxiety, all because I feel a very strong feeling for another human being. But I MUST share, in order to help me move forward.

I am in love so deep that I never saw it coming until I was drowning.

I’m drowning in it.

Drowning!! No life boat. No floatation devices. No hand pulling me out. Drowning.

For now, I will put my pajamas on, crawl into bed, and put on Disney+, and go to sleep.

I won’t focus on this. This will not be the whole of my life. I will keep moving.

One.foot.in.front.of.the.other.

Just keep moving.

Just keep writing.

Mental Freedom.

Thank you for reading.

Good night world.

My Next…

I feel like I have been hyper-active on social media lately. I feel like I get like that when I have something that I want to say, but just don’t know how to say it.

Instead, I say everything except the one thing I wish to say.

I write privately, now, to try to understand myself a little more. It’s not quite the same as writing and sharing with everyone who cares to read it.

I enjoy sharing my mind, my feeling, my everything with people. I am still in the mindset that maybe, just maybe someone out there needs to understand that they are NOT alone.

Did you know that I do want love again?

I can’t remember if I’ve shared that in a private journal, or on this blog, but it’s true.

I know I will never have the same kind of love I had with Mitch, but, I know that I have so much more to give. It bubbles and glops over at times.

I love life. I love everything that comes with living.

I don’t want to have sex with people, just for the sake of having sex.

I want to be with someone who looks at me in a way that says he’s not able to get enough of me. Soak me in, and miss me when I am gone.

My next husband will be kind, yet assertive. Hell, we all know I’m pretty indecisive about things, like where to go for dinner, or what movie to see first. (PICK the scary one, and tacos… oh! or burgers!)

My next will have his shit in order. He will love me for everything I am, and everything I am not.

He will take me by the hand and lead me into a better version of me. He will encourage me to succeed. He will invite me out with his friends. He won’t want to hide me.

My next will almost surely have kids, because I am a sucker for an amazing father.

He will know that I am always here. I won’t leave in the bad times. And he won’t leave me in my bad times, either.

I know it won’t be the same as it was with Mitch, because I know that in the wake of his death, I have learned that you cannot take for granted the things that people do for you. The things that usually go unnoticed or aren’t hyped up, anymore.

Opening doors, and paying for dinner.

Driving us to our dates, rather than meeting places.

To be 37, and widowed, is not for the faint of heart.

This.

Shit.

Sucks.

But I have learned so much. I have learned about me. I have learned about men. I have learned about dating. I have learned that dating sites are the fucking devil.

And most of all, I have learned my worth. Of course, when you’re with someone for half of your life, you just kind of know your worth with that person.

When you are, essentially, abandoned, you’re left questioning your self-worth. You’re left wondering if you’ll ever be good enough for another man, again.

You’re left in this mindset that you’re broken, and no one is going to want to walk into that. I’ve seen the faces of the men I’ve gone on dates with, when I mention that my husband died. It always comes up, because they’ll say something like, “What’s such a great woman, like you, still doing single?” And I am 100% honest, even if I really like a guy. ESPECIALLY if I really like a guy. “Well, sir, my husband died.”

Side-eye.

Deep breath.

Release of air.

“Wow. How? Is it okay if I ask?”

Every. Single. Time.

Then, I never see them again. I’m okay with that. It’s better than them pretending to be okay with me, and then breaking things off down the road.  I am a seriously complicated woman. It’s going to take a hell of a man to understand and accept me.

My next will understand that I’m an absolute wreck 3 days every year. 1/25, 5/24, and 8/18. 4 days if you count the day I put the Christmas tree up. I may want to lay in bed all day and cry. I may want to run 20 miles and then come home and cook enough food for an army. My next will understand.

One day, and I believe this, whole-heartedly, Mitch will shove him in my direction.

My next will have a lot in common with me, but still have his own thing.

My next will love sports, but not be too crazy about them.

My next will love his career, so he doesn’t come home super cranky all the time.

My next will be vulnerable around me, open with his feelings, and let me comb his hair with my fingers as he lays with his head in my lap, to tell me about his shift.

And most importantly. The most important thing about my next. He will not be threatened by my love for my husband, for I have plenty more love to give. He will understand that without my husband, I wouldn’t be the person I am, today. He will not replace my husband, nor will he want to,  but he will pick up where Mitch left off, and that’s okay.

I see him, in my mind’s eye. Not a physical him, but a spiritual him. A beautiful soul. Someone who is the other half of my very soul.

 

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I Am Broken

Writing is my therapy. I have been writing the same thing over and over, trying to process what’s going on in my mind.

It’s a fucking mess up there.

I’ve almost gotten to a point where I think I should see an actual psychologist for this matter. Like, legitimately. My brain is swirling and swirling like a mass of word tornados.

I type.

I delete.

Why? I can’t share it. It doesn’t make sense to me, so how can I expect it to make sense to anyone else?

Writing is tricky for me. I write what I feel. I have never had any desire to hide what I feel or what I want to say.

Until now.

For the last few weeks, my heart, my mind, my very SOUL are all aching. I’m not sad. I am not angry. I feel the missing piece. I am entirely too emotional.

I even agreed to, then canceled a date, for tomorrow. I just don’t think it would be fair to the guy, because he’s so nice, and super cool. Maybe if I’d have met him at a different time.

I want the piece to my puzzle, and I can’t make any piece fit. It has to be the right one. Hell, just writing this is making me emotional. Maybe I need to quit listening to the old school slow jams, and get out of my feels.

Or maybe I need to get deeper into my feels, and examine. Is that REALLY what I am feeling? Or maybe I’m just overthinking everything? What is this, I feel? Is it Lust, Love, Infatuation, Hate, Curiosity, Fear, Excitement, Happiness, Confusion?

I mentioned this before, and I feel like it fits into this particular entry. I went on a date with an architect and he thought dating would be the last thing on my agenda, because of my “history”. Meaning my widowhood. I ALMOST took offense, but he doesn’t know me. Hell, I didn’t even know what I was about to say was 100% truth.

I’m young.

I am good alone, and I am enhanced in a relationship.

I am a giver. It’s in my nature. I like balance. It’s part of who I am. My 2 favorite genres of movies are horror movies and Christmas movies, if that helps explain my need for balance. HA

I told him, “I’m still young. I still function. And I don’t want to die old and alone. I don’t think my husband would want that for me, as it’s a sad life, for someone who doesn’t want it.”

So, with the thing I just keep typing and deleting, I hope I can figure it out. I just need to process. I’ll type it until it makes sense. I may get out an old school notebook and pen, and try to put words on paper, and figure out my mind. Have you ever tried to figure out a woman’s brain? Good Lord, me either. Only my own and usually it’s pretty easy. This… This is some major woman brain shit. I’m baffled and I can’t imagine being a man or a lesbian. Or anyone who dates women.

If most women are like I am in this moment, I apologize on behalf of my species of human. I have never not been able to process. We might be crazy. Every last one of us. (I feel like one of “those” girls. Even though that’s a bunch of bullshit some men say when a woman has opinions or feelings about ANYTHING.)

 

I WILL figure myself out. I am determined. I need a time-out.

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One of “Those” Girls

Is There a God? If So, He Has A Terrible Sense of Humor.

So, there are a lot of stories about this and that on the internet. Everyone loses someone, so what makes my loss any more interesting or something that anyone wants to read.

“It’s so painful to read. I just can’t do it.”

“It’s too personal. Not in my wheelhouse.”

That’s cool. My feelings aren’t hurt. I TOTALLY understand.

So, my idea of God and his sense of humor.

I’ve gone my entire life, only really knowing one good man, before I met Mitch. (My brother was still young and going through some things. He wasn’t “great man” status just yet. Great brother? absolutely!)

And get this. The greatest man I knew was ALSO named Mitch. He is my uncle. When My uncle Mitch met my (at the time) boyfriend, Mitch, my uncle was the one who gave him the father speech. “My niece is worthy of someone great. Do not hurt her. You will regret it.” type of speech. When my Mitch told me that, I cried. I had never thought myself worthy of anything more than temporary commitment.

Wow, did my Mitch prove me wrong! Then, if God is real, he took him from me. Really fucking funny, God. I’m not laughing, and neither are any of the people who met him.

I’ve talked about the bar Mitch set when it came to how a man should treat a woman.

Slowly, over time, I have lowered that bar.

It had gotten pretty fucking low, actually. I seriously have dated some pretty fucked up dudes, and at the time, I didn’t think anything of it.

Then, I received an insanely rude, quite disgusting text from an ex, and I just lost it. I was SO pissed off, that I texted a couple of my girlfriends and my recently acquired guy friend.

My guy friend called me and proceeded to tell me that I am worth so much more than those kinds of texts. He was so nice, and I just bawled. I was, literally, snotting everywhere. I wasn’t hurt by the text. The text pissed. me. off. It made me wonder what the hell I was doing.

I was talking about my birthday with my guy friend and he said he wanted to take me out for my birthday. I had a date the night of my bday, so I threw out some other days that I could be available. I didn’t say the day before my birthday, because that was “tomorrow”, in my mind and not enough notice.

He suggested we go out that morning. Not on a date. Just a friend taking a friend out for her birthday.

For it not being a date, he treated me like a queen. He opened every door. He paid. During the movie, he left to use the restroom and grab something caffeinated and asked if I wanted anything from the concession stands.

I know. It does not sound like much at all, when its typed out. But to me, it was everything.

Absolutely Everything.

I didn’t even REALIZE how low I put my bar of standards and expectations.

It was unacceptably low.

Thank goodness I became friends with a man who has been the only one to meet my initial expectations, when it comes to dating. Who knows how long I would have left that bar so low? Who knows how much lower it would have gone?

What the FUCK was I teaching my DAUGHTER?

Thanks, friend, for grabbing my lowered bar, and placing it back on the top, where it should have always stayed. Thank you. I appreciate you, even though you won’t read this. And if you do, I’ll be surprised.

God’s sense of humor, here? I’ve mentioned how amazing my friend is. I knew he was pretty amazing before experiencing him in person, for the first time since our teen years.  I was never physically attracted to him. I even told my work-wife (Love you Lisa!) that I wish I was physically attracted to him. I asked, silently as well, “Why can’t I be attracted to HIM?”  Some may call it a prayer. I called out to everyone and no one, and when I saw him, that morning, all I could see was how handsome and kind and amazing he was.

Oh, for FUCK’S SAKE!

Really?

REALLY, GOD?

You choose NOW to “answer my prayers?”

WHY?

You dangle perfection in front of my face, knowing damn well that it’s a fucking triangle of doom??

Ugh!

It’s okay. It is. I am a mature adult, and I just thought, “Well damn. Maybe he does exist? Maybe he just thinks he’s fucking hilarious? Maybe, my life is a sitcom, and he’s laughing as he pulls these strings and watches me stumble about.”

It’s okay.

I’m gonna laugh right back and keep him as my damn friend, and that’s that!

Maybe The whole purpose of this friend coming into my life, when he did was to help me with my expectations. Hell, I had been helping him ask a girl out that he has been crushing on for a while. (hence the triangle comment above)

And today, TODAY, God people came to my door with booklets. I don’t do well with any people coming door to door, for any reason. It bothers me.

Then, as I sat at the dining room table, after cleaning up a bit, I realized I had just done something the Bible says will put me in hell!!

FUCK! FUCK! DOUBLE FUCK!

I turned a person away, that was trying to share the word of god with me.

If I go to hell for that, I will be in hell with a lot of people I know. My husband included. You know, since he didn’t believe in the Bible or organized religion.

God, if you’re out there, I don’t think this is funny. I don’t know if you’re real, and that’s got to be because this would be the first prayer that was answered, that I didn’t realize was a prayer in the first place.

*forehead slap*

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My Face, not laughing at God’s sense of humor.

I Crave Attention.

strong-independent-woman-womens-premium-t-shirt

 

Can I just tell everyone that for the last 3 weeks I have looked at my phone, at 8:18am and 8:18pm almost every single day. Not on purpose. I just glance at my phone and that’s the time.

Mitch’s birthday is August 18th, aka 8/18.

My initial response after a week of this happening was “I WILL NEVER FORGET YOU, MITCH! NEVER!!!”

I just felt like there was a crazy pull like “hey! yo! remember me???” And I just wanted to SMACK my husband! Just, open handed, palm-to-cheek, slap the shit out of him.

I will never forget. NEVER!

Unless I get dementia or Alzheimer’s , but you know what I’m saying.

I was sitting here, and thinking , “hmm. I had a dream last night about two guys I know.”

Both are single men.

One I’ve slept with, but have zero want or need to go there again, as I am just not interested. Easily understood for me. Anyway.

One is a friend.

Neither dream was sexual in any way. Not even a TINY bit.

I slept so well last night. Like, better than I have in the last 2 years an 8 months. Yeah, it’s been that long. Can you even BELIEVE that?

It wasn’t the first dream that made me sleep well. That was a dream about a hookup guy-turned friend, that has AMAZING hair. In my dream he had shaved it Bic-bald. He looked horrible! absolutely terrible. Me, being the person that I am, texted him this morning telling him to never willingly shave his head that way, because he looked awful! haha!

My second dream.

My second dream consisted of a guy friend. Never had an interest in him, aside from once in middle or high school. I don’t remember, really. Anyway. It was a thought that was abandoned as I went my way and he his without him ever knowing that I had even the SLIGHTEST interest in him.

Honestly, I didn’t even think about him, through my life. Never.

When I lost Mitch, he had some circumstances that I will not disclose, but we have kept tabs on each other’s dating lives and basically our lives-in general, since.

We are friends.

We haven’t seen each-other in person since high school, I’m sure.

But I definitely consider him my friend.

We talk almost daily. Our kids are our worlds.

Our work is overwhelming sometimes, but we love it.

Sleep is great when we get it for a full 8 hours.

My dream about him.

My amazing sleep last night…

All it was, was a dream of him, wrapping his arms around me, reassuring me that everything was going to be okay. He never spoke the words, in the dream, but it was the sensation I got from the dream.

Why him? Is it because this guy is a guy who understands me? Could be.

Is it a sign? Are there really signs? I feel like if you’re searching, you’ll always find a sign.

Is it because we knew each-other before, and now we are learning who we each are, at the same time? Maybe?

Is it because this guy is GENUINELY a phenomenal human being? Most likely.

I could have, literally dreamed of anyone.

Who knows?

He is my friend. He will get this blog directly sent to his inbox, no lie. ha.

He knows I’d try dating him, if he were looking for more than just…welll. you know. For safety’s sake, let’s just say, we aren’t on the same page when it comes to dating. He’s about 6 months behind me.

So, the title of this entry.

Sometimes, I grab my phone and see no notifications. Sometimes I pick it up and see some. My hope is that I’ll have a message from that friend. We have weird hours, but there’s a brief time where we are both functioning at the same time, so we chat for a little while. He’s a good person. I absolutely adore his dedication to his kids and his career. I adore his dedication to himself, and his dreams and aspirations in life.

I am in so much adoration of people who have their own obsessions, hobbies and lives. I don’t know why I’m drawn to such busy humans, but I am. I really, truly, 100%am drawn to someone who is willing to put this or that on hold, to see me. One day, I’ll meet that person.

Until then, I will dream of friends who hold me with no ulterior motives. and sleep like a man. I will continue doing me, for as long as it takes. One day, the right guy will come along and be like “THAT’S her! That is HER!” And, I’ll be “her.”

I won’t wait around, or stop my life for it. I won’t withdrawal from dating for it. I will continue living and see where life takes me.

My first soul-mate died. He was my PERFECT match.No comparison.

Will he be my ONLY match?

Only the universe knows.

I will forever put one foot in front of the other, and keep a forward movement, no matter WHAT life throws my direction.

So, the attention I crave is not that of a wanton woman, but that of a woman who wants a man to SEE HER for everything that she is:

A mother.

A widow.

A woman.

A fighter.

An independent human.

Strong.

There is so much more that can describe me, but these are what initially comes to mind. These are the things that really make me who I am.

 

 

I’m Not Her

If you knew me before, you’ll understand.

If you entered my life, post-Mitch, this May be interesting for you.

I’m not the same naive girl I was, before.

I was an angry girl. I was dependent and kind of high strung. I needed to be center of attention, ALWAYS. I didn’t live myself. I hated the way I looked 90% of the time, and I didn’t care enough to take care of my own self, let alone anyone else.

I tried. Understand, that I tried very hard to take care of house and home, and did passably okay. I could have done much better. (can’t we all??)

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not completely different, but I am definitely not that same girl I am still funny, social, and kind, and like surrounding myself with people who share the same interests.

Now, I’ve been shown that shit really can happen to me, and I take that seriously.

I COULD die.

I COULD get really sick.

I COULD be gone tomorrow.

Do I want to be remembered as the mean, hateful human being, that was a negative Nancy? Or, did I want to be the person that everyone could think highly of? A role model for women, girls, or even men and boys around the world? I’d rather set an example of how we can “be a better me today, than I was yesterday,” and leave a happy memory for anyone who has met me, to remember.

I am more of a “throw caution to the wind” yet, still “put on your seatbelt” kind of person.

I’m a “it’s probably okay…” Yet, “doctor time” kind of person.

I’m a “do your homework” but “figure out how to make it fun” kind of person.

I’m still an oversharer, but, I’m pretty sure I am MORE of an oversharer, now. Like, most people at work know when I need to poop or who I am TOTALLY crushing on at any given time.

I am at a point in my life where, if I hurt you, please, just tell me so I can see my errors and fix them. Before Mitch died, I lived by the idea that I could do no wrong. I have no idea why I believed such a moronic thing, but I did.

I love me. Yes, you read that right.

I

Absolutely

Love

ME!

I’m not obsessed with myself or conceited.

I love myself enough to say no.

I love myself enough to skip that slice of pizza.

I love myself enough (even though I’m in a workout rut) to go run before work.

I love myself enough to eat healthy.

I love myself enough to let go of men who don’t take me seriously. I’d rather be single than someone’s second thought.

I love myself enough to get out of bed, every single morning, take myself to work and do the best I can do, at work.

Through finding a self-love, I’ve learned that I’m not here to please everyone. I can be kind and I can be very blunt and truthful. My number one priority, emotionally, is to be happy. If I’m happy, I’m an all around better person.

I am aware that we can’t all be happy all of the time. I’m not that crazy. I am, however very aware of, and capable of, finding happiness in everything. Even if it is so painful. Even if it makes me feel guilty for finding that happiness, amidst the awful circumstances.

Like Rachel Hollis said at a conference she did, if you practice finding the good in every situation, you will be a happier version of you. If you search in the hardest of places, you CAN find the good. That’s not an exact quote as I do not recall the exact quote, but that’s pretty close.

I didn’t do that very much before. I mean, I found silver linings where many didn’t, but not in everything. I look deep sometimes, but the good is there. We just need to bring it into the light.

So, I am different. I am an improved version of my previous self. I am not new, but I am original.

Also, if you haven’t listened ti or Read Girl Wash Your Face, or Girl, Stop Apologizing, by Rachel Hollis, do it! Read them. Listen to the books on audible if you have to.

This Isn’t The Life I Chose, But It Is The Life I Live.

This life isn’t for the faint of heart. I’m not saying my life is worse or better than anyone else’s. I’m not here to compare my demons with anyone around me, or one-up the next guy or gal.

I’m simply here, to tell you, that this life, like so many others, is not easy.

Forgive me if I repeat things, that I’ve already touched on before. But here goes:

Family history of mental illness.

Foster care.

Absent father, for most of my early childhood.

A grown man, related to my step dad, caught watching me take a bath… I was 12, in my own home.

Lost virginity at 13.

Ran away at 15, and lived on my own until I was 17 and moved in with my aunt, then back with my mom.

High school drop out.

Mental and sometimes physically abused by my step father.

Child protective services laughed at me when I called them about the bruises.

Mitch’s death.

Losing my job.

Here is how I survived, and how I continue to live a happy life.

I didn’t get any mental illnesses. Celebrate that!

Foster care opened my little baby eyes, and showed me my ability to deal with stress and heartache, Detachment problems, and trust.

I learned that I don’t. NEED a man to support me. I learned that through watching my mom raise us, in her single income.

Finding a man watching me bathe made me NEVER forget to lock a door, while I’m the bathroom. Never.

I lost my virginity, and now, as an adult, I can attest to wishing I’d have waited until I was older. I can explain the feelings to my daughter. I can list out in detail, why I shouldn’t have even been THINKING about sex at that age.

Living on my own, relying on no one but myself, taught me how to stretch $25 to last a whole week.

Dropping out of high school. I understand minimum wage. I understand not making livable wages. I am able to understand and relate, because I was there. It gives me a better, well rounded grasp of living and finances.

Abuse. I learned how to read people and situations. I can remove myself from an abusive situation and not fall victim, because I know the signs. I grew up with them.

Not getting help from child protective services made me realize and understand that our system needs to change. No one is there for the poor kids. I had a bruise the entire length of my hamstring, and they didn’t take me seriously.

Mitch passing far before I planned made me become the person who doesn’t plan too far in advance. Just a bit. It has made me the person who gives my all to everything. It’s made me appreciate who is around me. I see those who help me, even when others don’t see them. My heart has so much love to give, and so much to teach, and so much room to grow. Mitch will always be my greatest love.

Lastly, being fired. I learned that there is better out there. I needed to quit being too afraid, but nothing like a boot to get you rolling on your resume. And the amazing place I landed, surrounded by some amazing (goofy, annoying, and ridiculous) work family. Without being fired, I never would have found them.

So, there you have it. A brief summary of how I find a silver lining, everywhere. Each bad thing had some other good things, but I’m keeping this short.

Tonight, I put my wedding dress on, and it was too big!

It’s Been Too Long

I’ve started about 15 different times, to make a post. Each time I started writing, I fell asleep, or I hated the way the blog sounded as I read it back to myself. There were a couple times that I had a few too many drinks and started writing, and they came off as rants.

That’s not what I was going for. I still have them saved as drafts in my files. Maybe one day I’ll venture there and read them.

I have so much I want to say, but so little I can ACTUALLY get into, publicly, right now.

I’ve been at my current job since December of 2018, and I absolutely LOVE it there. We all know how I’m the annoying bitch who believes whole-heartedly that everything happens for a reason. Well, I have a job that I love, and coworkers who feel like family, and bosses who actually give a shit about their employees. I love that.

Financial Fears

Recently, I’ve lost my motivation to workout, or grocery shop, or do anything remotely adult-like, except work and pay bills. I traveled so much, so close together, and had previously (back in October and November of 2018) ran up my credit cards, and have been struggling to get intimate control.

Well, I’ve figured it out. I’ve taken a loan to pay my minuscule credit card debt, so I no longer feel like I’m drowning.

I’ve been monitoring my credit, pretty closely, since about November of 2016. I was mortified when I checked my credit report and saw how bad my score was. I LITERALLY cried. I told Mitch “Honey, if you left me, I’d be fucking homeless!” When he saw how stressed I was about my credit, and the bills that were in my name that were being ignored, we discussed my student loans, and getting them paid down. Mitch agreed to let me start autopay for my student loans.Ever so slowly, my credit has crept higher and higher, and I’m doing the things the credit companies suggest, to raise my credit score.

I’m on an upward trend. According to the credit monitoring sites (yes, I use multiple TRUSTED free sites) what I just did could potentially bump my credit score up by 76pts! That would be AMAZING! Please, wish me luck, send good vibes, a prayer, juju, or whatever you do, that I keep this up, because I would never forgive myself if I fail.

Family

Meg and I are growing closer as a unit, every day. I’m the “cool mom”, who is still absolutely the mom.

I’ve always been a HUGE advocate of the “choose your battles” advice, and I chose teaching kindness, acceptance, and love, along with school work as a priority. I try and try with the whole “pick up after yourself!” But I always end up letting everything get a complete disaster then make her clean her stuff up. I just wish there were a way to make kids really truly understand how much easier life is, if you pick up after yourself. I’m sure it’s genetic though. I was a messy messy kid. So was her father. Let’s just hope she grows out of it, soon.

Meg starts high school next month. HIGH SCHOOL! When did this happen? What am I going to do with an anxiety-ridden high school student??? We will figure it out. She has a few GREAT friends. All 4 of the kids have dad-probs. 2 have fathers who passed and 2 have dads who are awful to them (according to the kids. I’ve never met the fathers) The kids are great kids, even if they’re all a little weird. I hope they stay this tight knit group, all through high school. They’re very good for each-other.

Dating

I want to ask you, ladies a question. Did you ever have that crush in elementary school, where you wrote “Mrs. *their last name*” as often as you could, like you were practicing for when you were married to them? I remember one boy that I did this with. One. It seriously makes me laugh, because it’s so ridiculous, and weird and just flat out crazy child’s behavior. But wait…

I had stopped dating for a while. I mean, a little while. I decided to focus on myself, and Megan, my work, health and happiness.

When I was on my way to Nashville for one of my closest friend’s bachelorette party, (back in April) I got a Snapchat message from this guy. This guy (I’ll refer to him as Me. M) was the “boy” from elementary school. I was kind-of seeing someone (I’ll call him the Conservative). I was more “hopeful” that I was seeing someone. The Conservative talked to me every day, like we were dating, and at the time Mr. M messaged me, The conservative and I were a new thing, so I wasn’t sure where it was going. It honestly seemed pretty promising, aside from our HUGE political and religious differences. (Forehead slap) Anyway, when Mr. M messaged me, I told him I was seeing someone, currently, but I was really more focused on myself and Meg.

Mr. M texted every day. We snapped pics of what was happening in our day and sent them to each other. He never left. He never stopped talking to me. He was never rude, nor did he ask me out, again. He was (is) consistent. When the Conservative did the magic trick of disappearing, I just kept talking to Mr. M, and soon, I started smiling, every time I got a message from him.

I realized, about Mid-June that I wanted him to ask me on a date. I had a few drinks one evening and sent him a message. I said “Are you ever going to ask me out again, or have you given up?”

I had, previously, given him shit for smoking. I told him “I’ll never kiss a smoker!”

He responded “I thought you’d never date a smoker?”

I lol’ed and he never said anything about a date.

I purchased 4 tickets for a local comedy show, and invited him and a couple of my other friends to join me.

Mr. M was the only one who showed up.

We had fun. We sat outside after the show, and talked and finished our beers. That was June 29th. (Yes, I’m the weird person who remembers shit like the day of a first date. Plus the comedy show is still in my google calendar. Ha!)

We have had at least one date a week, since that night, and all seems to be going well.

But, I have a confession. I’m not sure if we are on the same page or not. I’m not sure if he realizes how I’ve allowed myself to be more vulnerable, with him. I’m not sure if he wants more from me than just dates and sex. I hope so. I don’t k ow how to broach that subject, because I think it’s just silly, sometimes. I like just watching it play out, but I’m also old, and life is short, and I want to KNOW! I don’t know where I stand in his book, but I know where he is in mine.

I’m not sure how this dating thing works. I’m not sure how you determine when you’ve become a “couple” or anything like that. I’m still just living my life, the best way I know how, and trying to share my world with everyone else.

I’m very much the woman who can talk to anyone. I’m very opposite from Mr. M in this area. I don’t mind that he is a private guy who doesn’t like socializing with strangers. I just hope he doesn’t mind that I’m a very open person, who socializes with EVERYONE. I have been this type of person since I was a tiny tot, inviting “drug dealers” or “gang bangers” (I can’t remember what my mom referred to them as) to my house for whatever reasons I would.

Motivation

I mentioned how my motivation has fizzled, above. But I didn’t mention that today, when I was at hill repeats, struggle-bussing my way through that workout, I regained my motivation.

I haven’t been running much at all the last month and a half. It’s really starting to show.

I’ve decided to get off my ass, and get myself back together, on a regular schedule, and keeping it up. I reset all of my alarms back to earlier than the normal human, and will be getting up and going on my morning runs, again. I emptied my refrigerator, deep freezer and cabinets of all crap food and went grocery shopping today, and filled up on healthy options. I’ll be starting my day, tomorrow with an early run, followed by a lot of meal prepping, for the week. I’m done being unmotivated. I need to keep motivated, and to keep motivated, I need to eat healthy, and have the healthy options readily available.

Now, in order for me to get up and go run, I’ll need to end this here.

Remember, it’s okay to get off track once in a while. Just, don’t get too far off that you can’t find your way back.

All The Small Things

There are days where I believe Mitch is walking right next to me, or running with me, or flying alongside. I watch as birds fly right up to me, while I am out for a run, and land, then run the path ahead of me or beside me. Like this morning. I felt Mitch’s presence so strongly, then I was met by a normal brown-bellied bird, on the sidewalk. It looked at me, as it landed, and ran ahead, leading me down the street. He traveled just about a half of a block, and I felt happy. It was weird and amazing and so random.

bird

 

Small things.

All the small things that we miss.

I was running outside, for the first time, in a while, aside from my races, and remembered how lovely it can smell outside early in the morning. The flowers, the grass, the trees, and randomly planted bushes and plants. Just slow down, take a deep breath, and soak it in. Memorize the beauty of everything we are too busy to see.

Appreciate the small things. They’re the things that make up ninety-five percent of your life. And we are missing most of them.

Stop letting life overwhelm you.

Force yourself to slow down.

When your kids talk, do you hear them? Do you REALLY hear them?

Be present. Listen with everything you have, and do not listen to respond, listen to HEAR. Listen to UNDERSTAND! Listen to feel.

Put yourself into the shoes of those who are speaking to you.

This is something I work on, still. I once was a fabulous conversationalist. Now, I feel like I’m lacking in it. Sometimes, I feel like I don’t hear half of what’s being said to me.

As I sit here, in my employee break-room, with about 8 of my coworkers, I have my face in a device, because this is on my mind, so much, that I feel the need to express it, and share with everyone who reads. I could be sitting at the table having a conversation with my work friends, but, I can’t stop thinking about this topic. It’s been weighing on my mind for a couple of days.

conversation cartoon

I know I am guilty of this, and I want to apologize if I have ever done this to you. Chances are, I have.

Cell phones. Text messages, social media messages, etc. They should never take priority over the person standing right in front of you. It’s time to step away from our devices when surrounded by real live people. Get reacquainted with human interactions.

The value of a real, live conversation is so much more than the value of a monotonous text conversation. The expression from real conversation keeps confusion out of the conversation. The feel, the touch, the eye contact. All of that MAKES conversation. The moment you look at your phone, in the middle of a human to human, face to face conversation, you are saying, “this phone, or this social media post is more important than you.”

Stop. We all need to stop.

I’m not on a pedal stool, with this. As I have said before, I am so guilty of this and I am so sorry. I don’t want to devalue my friendships.

Human touch. As a widow, I don’t get “touched” like I did, before my husband died.

Regular hugs, booty grabs, hand holding, being sat on, etc. These things that were taken for granted are things I miss tremendously. I love hugs. Hugs make me happier. I love giving hugs and receiving hugs.

When Mitch was alive, I could snuggle right into his chest and he’d hug me for as long as I needed, at ANY time of our day. Even if I woke him up in the middle of the night, and wanted to be held. He was there.

There are times that I think its human touch that I crave, and not sexual encounters, or anything like that. Just the everyday feeling of love from a source that doesn’t have ulterior motives. The trust. God damn, I miss being able to trust someone with all of my heart. That is the hardest thing about being widowed in this society. I question if good people still exist. I mean, there are good people, and there are good people who are also good at relationships, but they are far and few between.

I also feel like I am a magnet for men who don’t have their shit together, so I avoid those circumstances. I don’t get involved outside of friendship and make it very clear that I don’t want that in my life. I am solo, but I am also straight-up. I have most of my shit together, but I also know that ANYthing can fuck it up. Being stable is a fragile place for a single, middle class mother. One tiny thing could take my stability and throw it out the window on the freeway. So, for any guy who may have asked me out, and I have said no, I apologize, but I am in need of a man who is independent, and who can hold his job. No need to be hurt by that statement. If anything, I hope it motivates you to get your shit together. We are closer to 40 than we are to 30, so, lets just remember that.

quote

I’m aware of my self-worth, so, I am going to be picky as hell about who I let into my life. With that said, I will not try to convince anyone of my worthiness. It will be seen by the people who wish to acknowledge it.

Live your life happy, and love the ones you surround yourself with. Surround yourself with beautiful (on the inside) humans, and build one-another up. Avoid negative behaviors, given or received.

Water

off

the

duck’s

back.

water off a duck's back

 

**I am sorry for the all over, bouncy nature of this post. I hope the point is still there.**

***I blame all of the coffee.***

 

Hey, Mitch.

IMG_2883

 

Johnny got married this past weekend. Hopefully you saw. His bride, Tina,  was stunning. Megan went, and she even wore a dress. She was wearing her Vans, but,  still in a dress and looked gorgeous.

Our OCR group took over the bar area, and served everyone drinks all night, because we can never just sit still, and we always seem to have our hands in everything, helping wherever we can. I wish you were able to meet these people, babe. They’ve become some of my closest friends. They encourage me to keep going, and most of them only knew of you, what I told them, and they all love you, too. You were definitely a keeper, that’s for sure.

I think about how I hit the jackpot with you. I know you always claimed we were like the couple from King Of Queens, “I’m the fat guy with the super hot wife!” I love you. I love how you loved me. I love how we loved each other. It was beautifully meant to be. No question.

I was telling someone yesterday, about how I used to HATE when you shaved, because you would always leave a huge mess with your little red beard hairs all over the bathroom. I loved that red beard.

I followed that up with how I ran out of shaving cream, recently, and decided to use your shave bar, and how I sat on the floor of the shower, as the water blasted me, and cried my eyes out, because your little red beard hairs were still in the shave bar and dish. It smelled like you, and there was a little piece of you right there, like you were still here. But, you’re not. You’re no longer here, in my realm.

I survived that bout of tears, as I will survive many many more. I don’t fear my tears, anymore. I don’t fear crying in front of anyone. I don’t fear the reactions I may receive in the event of crying in the oddest of places. I just do. If someone asks if I am okay, I always tell them “I will be. Give me a minute.”

Race season is coming up, and it’s coming up FAST! I am hosting a workout with a few other KCOCR admins, this Saturday to help the general public get ready for Warrior Dash. It’s so cool, because it’s a free workout, and Warrior Dash posted it on their social media pages to help spread the word! Remember when I would get up at ungodly hours, and go work out at different gyms, with our tiny group? That tiny group is HUGE now. There’s almost 1,000 of us, and now I am one of the moderators, alongside some amazing people.

My strength and conditioning coach got an amazing opportunity to put his degree to use, and make some pretty great money (I am guessing about the money), and will be moving to New York! I’m super happy for him. He’s created a monster in me. HA! I’ve lost weight, built muscle and strength. I haven’t looked this good in decades!

OH!! You won’t believe this! I am down to a size 6! I can even fit in some 4s. It’s crazy! I haven’t been this small since before I got pregnant with Megan.

Speaking of Meg…

I’m at a loss. I can’t get her to clean her room. Her room, sadly, looks just like your basement bedroom always did. Moldy dishes, bottles of drinks all over. Goldfish crushed into the floor. Trash, clothes, and hangers EVERYWHERE!! Towels all over. You get it. You know what your room looked like. That’s what her’s is like, and it’s driving me insane. I mean, I get a little messy sometimes, now, but not dirty messy. Just stuff like a basket with 13 loads of clean laundry that needs to be folded and put away, or dishes after a big meal prepping day. I know. You probably think I’m crazy. I just can’t stand having a messy home anymore. I’m less exhausted this way. I don’t have to think too much about where my things are, and that makes me a happy person.

I also can’t get her to improve her grades. She is, well, lets just say it isn’t looking good.

I wish you were here to help me help her. I try. I try hard.

She is smart. I know she’s smart. She knows she’s smart. But, some stuff, she just doesn’t DO and it’s causing her to get bad grades.

She’ll get it. I know she will. She’ll figure out how badly failing classes will be for her, in the future.

If there is a God, please, tell her I need guidance, because she isn’t listening to me. Or him?

I have decided to attempt actual dating, now. Although I love you with so much vigor, and will always love you, whole heartedly, I have come to realize that there is a growing chamber of my heart that is going to allow me to love another person, some day. I’m not saying anytime soon, and it’ll never be the love that we shared, because that cannot be duplicated. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be a great love, too. Right? I know you’d want me to be happy, and you wouldn’t want me to be alone forever.

Oh! When I went on a date the other day, I ACTUALLY let him open the truck door for me, and accepted help in and out, like a lady should. Remember when I threw the feminist shit at you? “do NOT open my door for me! I am fully capable!” I’m so sorry. I was so young. I didn’t think about it being a nice gesture, or an act of respect. I’m growing more to understand the things I didn’t know while you were here. In some ways I am so sad that I didn’t figure these things out, while you were still alive. I wonder how I never realized some things. I should have let you be the man you wanted to be for me. I mean, you were definitely the man for me, but I didn’t allow you to be a typical gentleman, from the very beginning. There is so much Love and so much respect for you, that I wanted you to see me for the independent woman I really was.

I wasn’t “independent” then. I mean, sure, I could do this or that by myself, but I had no idea what was happening with bills, the bank account, or anything else, for that matter, for many many years.

Our 16 year wedding anniversary is coming up. It’s crazy to think we would have been married 16 years. Together for 19, come August. If I didn’t live the beautifully tragic love story of us, I wouldn’t believe it. Or I would, but I wouldn’t believe that the widow is still sane, and functioning for every day life. It’s like a story someone made up, so they could sell books or tickets to a movie.

But here I am, babe. You’d be proud, as you ever were, that I am not only an independent woman, raising one hell of an amazing daughter, but, I am helping to run our obstacle course group, working full time, keeping myself in shape and our home under control. I am making more time for friends and family, and I am living this life I was granted.

I miss your beard hair in my sink. I miss all of your nearly gone body wash and shampoo bottles in the shower. I miss the way you smelled after mowing the grass or rolling around on the floor playing with the dogs. I miss the way you would try to lock Megan or myself into a room by tying things to door knobs, or trying to play pranks. I miss all the things that made you who you were.

Forever love is forever, and that’s what we share. No matter the shift I feel within myself, It’s not a change in my love for you, at all. It’s a growing change. An amazing,  unbelievable growth within myself, that I never ever would have thought possible.

Until we meet again,

With all of my heart,

Tabbie

Hopefully the quality of my video is okay. I had to screen-record because I cannot download it. This was at The Life Celebration.