I turned 31 in March. There was a noticeable decline in Giving a Shit from when I turned 30, and that was already a pretty significant fall. I recall waking up the day of my 30th birthday and caring a little bit less about... well, everything. I felt more relaxed in my own skin and comfortable with my life. Turning 30 was like reaching the end of the hardest race you've ever run and finally getting a moment to coast.

So imagine my surprise at the existential dread that hit me as I approached 31. There's a difference, you see, between turning 30 and finding yourself in your thirties. Thirty is the new twenty-five. Your life is beginning and there are so many possibilities ahead of you. You're experienced but still learning. You're an established, independent adult but with a youthful zeal. You can continue to shop at the same stores you did in your twenties, and Aerie has such comfy leggings. But 31? Congratulations, you're old. You're seeing your body break down. There are grey hairs just popping up all over the place. Like my chin. There's 30, and then there's "well you're nearing 40." I still get acne, though. I guess that's the last trappings of youth on an aging face?

But it wasn't the noticeable and gradual breakdown of the body I've abused and neglected. It wasn't waking up sore just from sleeping in a different position, or the prominent dark circles under my eyes that never seem to fade. Nope, it was the question I'd always been able to brush aside with confidence.

What have I done with my life?

What have I contributed to the world? What will anyone think of when they think of me? Will they think of me at all? Have I made any impression on those around me? People I know have switched careers, moved far away, started businesses, started families. They donate and volunteer. They are determined and successful. They are inspiring. But instead of feeling inspired, I just felt overwhelmed and unfit. It's that impostor syndrome, rearing it's ugly head after years of building self confidence.

I'm 31 years old and it had taken me so long to get to a point in my life where I'd not only started to accept who I am, but to have pride in myself. Maybe it's gender related, maybe it's generational, maybe it's years of self doubt causing me to question everything I do, but even the idea of having pride in my life and what I do feels... bad. As if somehow "I'm proud of the person I've become" is a shameful statement. I thought hitting my thirties would be the time I worked myself out of that mindset.

And maybe it is.

Sure, I don't own my own business. I'm not much of a business idea person and the truth is the concept of a daily grind doesn't have a large appeal to me. And that's okay! I have hobbies and goals that I'll never financially profit from, and those keep me as busy as I want to be. Nearing 30 I found myself feeling confident with who I already am. Perhaps this next decade is when I'm able to look around and say, "This is okay, but what can I do to really get the most out of my life?" No one wants to find they've peaked, and they certainly don't want to find out they peaked at 30. The more I started to think about it, the sillier the notion of reaching some finish line at 31 seemed. Maybe I can no longer turn my neck all the way to the left and these grey hairs just keep growing like weeds, but our thirties are still so early in our lives. We have the benefit of lessons learned in our twenties, the same youth we've learned to enjoy, and free time that comes with established priorities. However, hangovers do last at least two days. You'll want to consider this when you're drinking on a Saturday.

At 31, I know enough to realize my life isn't exactly where I want it to be. But now I recognize that that doesn't equate to failure. I can grow because I want to continue to improve, not because I feel like I'm not enough.

Maybe you've had this thought at any age. Maybe you're in your twenties and wondering if you're the only one blindly feeling your way through life. (Spoiler, you aren't. There's a pretty good chance everyone else is as internally terrified as you are.) But at some point you start to see that you're taking things in stride and you feel more prepared. And before you know it, you're 31 and you can feel "IDGAF" in your soul in the most positive of ways.

30 was full of some challenges and changes, and I can't wait to see where the next decade takes me. Most importantly, I realize that I can determine that path myself.

I am sometimes sarcastic.

Recently I've been listening to the soundtrack for a Broadway musical almost nonstop. Not sure if you've heard of it, but it's called Hamilton. Why did no one tell me how great this is? Maybe it's just not really well known. I'm sure tickets are easy to get and don't require selling a kidney to afford.

I want to make it clear: this is sarcasm. It’s astonishing how many people that actually know me continue to take what I say at face value, with the utmost seriousness. I once jokingly “threatened” a friend about going to an overcrowded, mediocre restaurant, saying I would throw away the Christmas gifts I had bought her. In reality, I’d go wherever she wanted and not care as long as food ended up on my plate. Despite the clear intent, a third party was aghast, and called me every name he could think of. Thankfully, he didn’t think for too long. (Imagine what it’s like to go through life with such a literal sense of humor. I hope to never endure any kind of cognitive injury that would cause that.)

Here’s some advice, friends: don’t entertain people who consistently see the worst in you.

These people will pretend that they want to help you, as if you’re some puzzle that needs completion--as if they have the missing pieces. This isn’t for your benefit, but rather, for their satisfaction. Yes, it’s helpful and healthy to have people in your life who will be honest with you when you’re not being your best self. Sometimes we need people to tell us to step back because we’re acting a little crazy and letting our anxieties get the best of us, or that we’re losing our focus on goals.

No one is so self-aware and well-adjusted that they don’t need this kind of cheerleader in their corner. If you think that you’re that person, you’re wrong and could benefit from some honesty from the people close to you. I say this from a place of love--you can be a better person.

(That’s another joke.)

I think of it like this: imagine that you’ve hired a personal trainer. This trainer tells you, “I just know if I don’t make you work out, you won’t do it”--even if you’ve faithfully gone to the gym and worked out independently every day. Or maybe after a week of clean eating, you have a slice of pizza, and the trainer exaggerates your indulgence by saying, “You’re always eating junk and that's why you're fat." They criticize every roadblock and misstep as "just who you are as a person," because they believe that you'll never succeed without their direct influence.

You’d probably want to stop paying a trainer as unproductive as this one is, right? You would definitely, at the very least, lose motivation to keep working out. A trainer this critical and pessimistic is no more helpful than a trainer who makes excuses for you and tells you that you’re doing great, even when you see no progress toward your goals.

Now imagine those same situations, but with a trainer who is understanding, positive, and productive. Had some pizza? Hey, you're human and pizza is delicious. Just focus on moderation and make sure you keep cheat meals on schedule. Skipped a workout? Fitness takes effort and no one else can do it for you. Rest days are important, but rest days should also be on schedule. These are encouraging words of advice, guidance, and motivation. This type of feedback is empowering. It reminds you that you are in control of your actions and you can reach your goals if you put forth the effort.

Being told you’re awful is not at all the same as being told you can do better.

So, why do we allow people we call friends to act like the first trainer toward us? Maybe you’re comfortable in long friendships that are ingrained into your life, or maybe you’re simply afraid of losing people who are in your circle. Maybe we don’t even see the difference in their treatment of us and what real encouragement is supposed to look like. With enough naysaying, we may start to believe their insults. Telling your friend that they’re awful isn’t tough love--it’s just mean.

You can guarantee that exactly one person will be with you throughout your entire life. That person is you. I’m not saying that to be depressing or overly harsh. It’s just something as reliable as death, taxes, and losing your debit card in a parking lot because you just tossed it into a bag after stopping in a drive-through and telling yourself, “I’ll just put it back later.” (Another inevitability is realizing how many companies have that information when you cancel the card and start getting phone calls.)

Anyway, my point is: all our lives, we will (or should) strive to be better people. We have to learn to live with ourselves. Having so much negativity in your life, no matter the source, only makes it harder. Whether they’re taking your sarcasm literally by assuming the worst about you, or constantly cutting you down to make you fit in a mold they deem fit, they don’t actually produce any positivity or radical changes in your life.

I’ve discovered that I am filled with enough self-doubt that I don’t actually need someone else telling me I’m right. I need someone to tell me that I’m not at my best, and I can be better. However, this requires constructive criticism and sincere encouragement--and that requires my friends to look past my complications and downfalls to see that I really am trying to do better.

It's Been a While

Hello. It’s me.

That would have been funnier if I had written it back when that song was still popular, which is also when this dropped off the radar. I haven’t written here since 2016. I actually haven’t written anything since 2016, and I’ll kindly ask for patience while I knock the rust off. It may be a while and will probably involve more backtracking than progress. Not unlike everything else in my life.

Let’s not just pick up where we left off. Last time I posted an entry here I had just quit my job and moved to Columbia. I sold my house, and got an apartment with a roommate that quickly became a best friend. Living in Columbia, with family and so many friends nearby, I was happy. I was probably the happiest I’d been in years, or maybe ever.

So of course something had to go horribly wrong. I moved because I needed something new, including a new job. And the new job was okay, and seemed to provide the challenge I was looking for.  I worked with some great people. Unfortunately, I also worked in an incredibly toxic environment. I was constantly in tears. I had a boss that made it clear he wanted me gone. Something had to give and I decided that it would be me. Everything else is perfect, except this job- the one thing that has always been a driver in my life. So, I quit. I turned in my resignation letter, finished out a week, and I was done.

I would be lying if I said I didn’t love the look of shock on my manager’s face. Honestly, I don’t know why he was surprised. He’d put me on probation. He’d discussed termination steps. He’d caught me looking for jobs while I was still at work with a desk that faced his office door. And yet he had the audacity to tell me he was caught off guard. I knew how much I’d grown as a person when I didn’t start laughing at him.

Now anyone that knows me knows I don’t make huge changes without knowing exactly what’s going to happen next. I am not a risk-taker. My idea of taking a risk is not looking at or changing my seat assignments on an airplane. What if I’m in the middle? What if I’m near the back when I have a short layover and need to rush off? Just thinking about it gets my adrenaline pumping.

So anyway, I started a new job in Florida. I left this perfect life with the perfect roommate and perfect social circle and perfect gym, and moved to a city where I knew literally no one for a new job that I had never done before. It was me, and my two dogs.

Which, in case you didn’t know, soon became one dog. Within the first six weeks of moving to Florida, Emmett developed a tumor in his spine that couldn’t be treated. I drove him back to South Carolina to say goodbye and let him go.

And I started thinking about this blog. I said so many times that life after something like divorce would be a huge change. The subtitle to this blog is about change. And yet I’d been living in the same house, with the same job, doing the same things I had when I was married. Feels a little disingenuous now that I look back on it. A lot has changed. I still have a lot to say. I’m still just unsure of what to do with this. I want to continue. I want to do something that may help and entertain other people.

A theme would help. Who doesn’t love a theme? Just some kind of unifying note throughout it all, that may help keep me focused as well as build an audience. For a brief moment I considered making the central theme of this a fitness blog, but then I saw myself naked in the mirror.

Maybe I just need to continue writing, forcing myself to sit down and put something out on a regular basis. Waiting for inspiration or some catalyzing event doesn’t get things done. As Chuck Close said, “Inspiration is for amateurs- the rest of us just show up and get to work.” The only way I’m going to make anything of this little venture is to keep doing it. The only way I’ll be a better writer is to keep doing it, and that includes the failures.

So stay tuned. I’ll want to write about the things that lead me to this spot in my life. The people that have taught me so much and how it’s helped me cope. Or how leaving behind almost everything from my “old life” has allowed me to become who I am. And feel free to keep me on track. Feel free to comment or reach out. Feel free to make suggestions on where this can go.

I’m serious. Suggestion box is open. #helpme

Working Girl

I really need someone else to come up with titles for these posts. And maybe just manage it in general and provide me with deadlines and accountability. It's unpaid, but you'll get great experience.

As I mentioned in the last post, I quit my job and moved.

I was getting bored at the old job and looking for something new. It's a good company and I liked my coworkers, but it was just time to make a move and do something different. Also I didn't really want to live there anymore. That little town was far from anywhere I wanted to be, and I felt so trapped. Nothing ever happened, I was in the same house my ex husband and I had, and it was just a bad day-in, day-out rut.

Here's a fun fact. Twice, I had a part of an interview focus on my personality and then afterword I didn't hear anything back. One job I applied for did a pretty intense personality test on me. I don't mean the Jung's classification thing, or one of those tests where they ask if you've ever had violent tendencies. No, I mean a test that really made you question who you really are deep down when no one is looking. I completed it, and the potential employer went radio silent for over a week. I was really worried what they learned about me, and if they had alerted the authorities.

I'm not really known for being the brave one. I don't do random shit like this. I seek stability, and have stayed in less than ideal situations just because they're familiar. Because they're safe and predictable. I don't quit the only job I've had since college and move away from the place I've lived for twenty years.

And yet, I did. I have.

There's really no point in complaining about your situation if you aren't going to change it. It may be scary or difficult, but the feeling of knowing you at least took action is worth pushing through that fear. At the end of our lives, the regrets of what we never did will weigh the heaviest. And at the end of that life, that's it. The last chapter. The final note hanging in the air. There is no option to start over. We aren't Mario. As much as I would like some magical food to make me taller, that's not the world we live in.

So, do whatever you're going to do. Find what makes you unhappy and push it out of your life. Change that thing that's bothering you. Tell that person why they're an asshole. Get out and exercise. Ask for that promotion. Even if you don't like it, even if you make the wrong choice. Just prove to yourself that you can do it, and that your life will go on.

Big Changes

Hello, friends. I did that thing where I forgot to actually write in my blog for... several months. To be honest I kept wondering what to write about as eventually the divorce seemed less important, and dating seemed really unpleasant.

Btw, it is. Sometimes my response to the thought of dying alone is "God willing."

So then I quit my job and moved. Well, I started moving. This weekend I packed up my clothes and coffee maker, and started a new job today. I've done little else because I'm a procrastinator and justify my poorly thought out actions by saying I'm just taking it bit by bit. Which isn't totally untrue, as I have made some serious progress with painting and cleaning some old crap out that I have no use for and don't need to haul to a new city.

Such as my wedding album. And the entire box I had kept of mementos from things my ex and I had done together throughout the course of our relationship. There were some bows from flowers he had bought, and a little plastic heart that decorated some kind of cake he had gotten me. There were programs and pamphlets from trips we had taken and things we had visited. There were movie tickets from dates. The prayer book from our wedding ceremony. The guest book from our wedding, which felt as lackluster as the relationship itself. There were plane tickets. Stuff from Ireland, the first international trip I had taken and the last trip we had together.

I recalled all these events. The hotel we got downtown after a beer garden. Dinners we had after special occasions. "Just because" gifts and notes. How much fun Ireland was, even though at one point I wanted to leave him in a grocery store because he was dragging his heels when he walked. I recalled asking him to pick up his feet because the sound drove me nuts, and he made a point to just get louder.

When I had started this blog, I had some plan to ceremoniously burn it all as some kind of closure. Maybe have friends over when it happened. Get a bottle of champagne. I don't really know, but I wanted to do something as some kind of sign that it was over.

Instead, I threw it in the garbage can between loads of laundry and before I went to a workout. Looked through it, looked at the pictures in the album, and then tossed it all.

If that wasn't the ultimate in "look how far I've come" I'm not sure what is.

Well now that shit's actually happening in my life, I can get back to this.

Practice what you non-religiously preach.

Dieting is awful. You know what healthy foods are, and the importance of regular exercise. Maybe you even occasionally advise people on proper eating habits. But.... cake is so good. You shouldn't, but you do, and you'll remember it when you realize you haven't lost any weight in the past couple months. Immediate satisfaction becomes more important than long term health.

For all my posturing of being happy alone and what it takes to have a healthy relationship, I fall into the very trap I've been working to avoid. It's like not being able to see the forest for the trees, except instead of a forest it's a relationship and instead of trees it's a man that's nice to me most of the time. Not even all the time. Not even that nice.

Okay, actually he was that nice. Maybe that's what happened. He was nice and wanted to spend time with me and would initiate conversations. This set the stage for me to get attached and be open to the possibility of a relationship. I was attracted to him but I couldn't really give specific traits about him that I liked. He took me out? He bought dinner? He came over so I could cook? While it's appreciated, these aren't really qualities that win someone over. Especially when there are so many obvious red flags.

See, after the divorce was finalized I wasn't sure what I would continue writing. I didn't want to make this a journal ("today I woke up late but I was just so sleepy!") or just talk about my moods. No, the purpose was to document this transition from separation to divorce to whatever comes after. And as it turns out, there's plenty to document! Like the rebound relationship. And how much it can suck when it ends, even when you're fully aware it wouldn't have lasted.

Long story short, I was dumped because I didn't share his religious views. More specifically, I was dumped by someone I wasn't really dating because religion was very important to him and it wasn't to me. Or something. I don't know. There was some awkwardness and sadness and "let's be friends." (PS- don't be friends.) Despite being fully aware a long term relationship wouldn't work, I was hurt. This was rejection, and that was new...ish.

The divorce was a big step, but it wasn't the end. Just because I'm free to move on with my life doesn't mean I'm suddenly well adjusted and perfectly happy. There's still a lot of progress to be made. I'm aware that I need to learn to be happy with myself before I can be in a healthy and happy relationship with anyone. But I've realized that I view a relationship as my "baseline" and it's not easy to go against that. Still, I have to figure it out and make the smart decision over the easy one.

One day, you might find yourself "alone." You may ask yourself a tough question, one you don't deserve. One that feels like emotional abuse. But one you can't stop thinking about, that won't leave your head and just keeps popping up.

"Why am I so easy to walk away from?"

Maybe you won't wonder this, and I hope you don't. But, maybe you will, even if you don't know it. I wish I could answer that. I can tell you you're more than a relationship status, and you're not alone. That romantic involvement will not make everything okay. But I can't answer that question because I'm still asking myself that. Maybe one day I'll figure it out and be able to share that wisdom.

In the meantime I think I'll just take some time to take my own advice and see this as an opportunity. And really, how boring would it be to get into a serious relationship with the first person I date after my divorce? What a waste of my single years.

Petty LaBelle. Petty Mayonaise. Petty Murphy. Petty Pan.

Well I'm divorced. The hearing was Tuesday, and took all of ten minutes. My marriage and a ten year relationship was legally ended within minutes. Perhaps the funniest part is remembering the planning and time that went into preparing for the wedding, only to have it all undone so quickly.

Maybe instead of a year long waiting period for divorce, we need a waiting period to be married. Then again it wouldn't have mattered in our case. As I mentioned, a third of my life was spent in that relationship. You'd think I'd have caught onto the red flags. Yet here we are!

I was getting more and more anxious in the hours leading up to the hearing. On the drive to the courthouse my stomach was in knots, and I had been listening to Alanis Morissette for a while. Even when I got there, and saw my almost totally ex husband and his fedora-wearing witness, nothing calmed within me. Until he spoke. I was reminded of his cold politeness, and the loneliness I had started to feel in our marriage. I felt reassured about my future and the change in status I'd have once I left the courthouse. I felt almost completely calm when I heard him dragging his heels when he walked. 

That noise always drove me crazy. Genuinely made me twitchy, enough to where I contemplated leaving him in a grocery store when we were in Ireland. The worst part was he would do it on purpose. But hey, not an issue any more. At least it's not my business how he chooses to walk.

In fact, none of that is my business. What he does with his life now doesn't concern me, and hasn't for a long time. I've done everything I can to maintain a respectful distance between us, taking cues from his behavior. Especially when it comes to his girlfriend. I've wished them well, but done everything I can to avoid any interactions with her. I don't know her, I've never said a word to her, she isn't a thing in my life, and I've just hoped they'll be happy.

So I don't know why she felt the need to brag about their divorce party on social media and call me Voldemort. I suppose she remembers Harry Potter very differently than I do. I definitely don't recall Voldemort avoiding parts of town where other people might be. Then again he was preoccupied with Harry and crew, and a little busy. So yeah, maybe he did ignore some other people.

In case you're wondering the joke is that I may be Voldemort but they're still not my concern.

But I've written before that I'm going to be honest about what happens when you're in these situations. And the truth is, no matter how hard you try you'll still be hurt. Everything tightened and I felt anxious and angry. I felt sad. I felt exhausted. I felt confused and hurt. I did nothing. I've wished them no ill will. I've told him that they both deserve to be happy. We all do. I get that they'd celebrate the end of all this; or at least that he would, because it actually involved him. But to make such a spectacle of it, and to say this about someone that actually is being impacted. I don't know what to do or how to react.

At least two days ago I didn't. Today? I know to just leave it alone. What they have to say about me is still not my business. It will not help me. I know what I have to do to find my own happiness, and it doesn't involve them. I'm starting to resent this high-road approach, but I've been here long enough so I might as well keep going. Empathy has never been my strong suit, and I'm trying to comfort myself by saying it's what I'm doing.

Lord grant me the patience and strength, because petty is so much easier.

I tried dating and it wasn't fun.

One thing I’ve learned is never go out with a guy that follows you on any social media. It makes it difficult to vent about how awkward everything was.

My favorite part about that sentence is how it’ll make some men uncomfortable. Probably provides some insight into why I’m single. Well, that and I’m just mean spirited and have spent a lot of time cultivating a persona that’s as warm as a rattlesnake.

A couple months ago, I signed up for one of those dating app things. I figured it was easy, free, and a good way to just dip a toe into the dating pool. However, no one warned me that dating pool was actually a treatment pond for industrial waste. I never found my Mr. Right, Mr. Right Now, or even a Mr. You'll Do. I did at least learn a lot about rejection, the art of ghosting, and that there are worse things than being alone. Oh, and got some good stories. That's very important, since so many of my decisions boil down to, "would this be a funny story?"

I wish I had kept track of how many men I matched with, messaged, and what percent responded to me. Even smaller still, what percent I ended up meeting. However, I can tell you how many men I had a second date with! Two. There were two guys that I ever heard from again after the initial date. 

Have you ever met someone you knew online, and they looked so different from their pictures that you wanted to ask for your money back? No money was exchanged, you just feel so betrayed by the misrepresentation it was like you'd been swindled. I wanted to yell at him, to be honest. Instead I just let him pay for the pizza. I regret that, actually. Because what followed was one of the most awkward set of social interactions I've ever had. Yes, that's plural. Yes, I saw him more than once. I felt bad for him! I thought that maybe he was just nervous and that's why he made really intense eye contact, or answered open ended questions with "....yeah." Sometimes he would just stop in the middle of a sentence like he forgot where he was. 

As it turns out, that wasn't first date jitters. That's just him.

One guy gave me this spiel that men didn't like it when women talked about previous sexual experiences, because it made them sound like whores. No details, just knowing that a woman wasn't a virgin was enough to bother him. 

At some point, I stopped trying to act like an adult. As Bill Burr may or may not have said, you stop worrying about how something might sound and just start thinking, "Fuck it, let's see what happens." I wasn't interested in impressing these guys, and before the first date was over I started to worry about them asking for a second one. I told a few I was a feminist, knowing it would be enough to drive them off. In case you're wondering, it is pretty effective. I would recommend it for anyone caught in the same situation. 

Another time, I think the guy and I started a competition to see who could gross out the other. Actually, looking back that may have been one of the best dates I've been on. 

These are extreme examples. Generally, there was just a total lack of chemistry and attraction. Not so much that there was anything particularly wrong with any of them, just that I didn't see them as compatible. I rarely left a date with an overly positive feeling. However, that didn't mean I didn't feel some sense of rejection when I never heard from them again. Even recently I had the "there's nothing here" conversation with a guy I had met through a friend. There were so many red flags around him, and I wasn't interested, but it still hurt a little when he said he felt the same way.

Rejection sucks, and dating is a series of rejections. Still, it's a little fun. The newness of getting to know someone. The flirting. The hoping that something works out. Letting a man pay for dinner and getting a free meal out of it. Even got a free donut one day!

I think I'm done with the quantity approach. It's exhausting and frustrating and more than a little overwhelming. You see such a variety and so few are interesting. It's not just an issue of losing hope, but making sure you don't get... desperate. With each bad date, your standards drop just a little. 

We'll see how it goes in the future. For now, I just need to focus on the important things in my life. Maybe that'll include someone else, maybe it won't. The lesson here was being single and alone is still better than being around someone you don't even like.

Friends in Low Places

I've mentioned by depression before. I've written about it here and on social media. I've written about one of the lowest points where I was planning my suicide. So it's nothing new for anyone.

One of my last posts was right as another episode began. This one was worse than usual, thanks to Wellbutrin. Just in case you weren't aware, "wellbutrin" is latin for "this is gonna fuck you up." Not only did it not do what it was supposed to, but for almost six weeks I was a terrified, anxious, paranoid mess. I'm not on that any more, and life is much better.

I've always struggled with opening up to friends and asking for help. I like to think I've gotten better about reaching out to people without feeling like a burden. As I've told others, and struggle to remind myself, I don't have to go through this alone. Sometimes I can call a friend and ask if they want to join me while I get drunk in my shower.

Now, here's where it gets random. I know who I can lean on. What I didn't know was that I could lean on my Ex Husband Within The Next Two Weeks. We're divorcing because we weren't happy together, but you don't spend almost a decade of your life with someone and write them off entirely. We both agreed we still cared about one another, and he was amazingly supportive and did what he could to get me out of that depression. He talked to me and even helped me get some stuff fixed around my house.

It was really comforting to have something so familiar around, and to be able to talk to someone that has seen me go through this before. We've grown apart, but at one point there was no one closer to me. Still, after everything I was reassured that I'm on the right path. It was great to catch up and talk to him, but more as a matter of closure. That chapter is done and we've both moved on in our own ways.

So, join me next time. Where I discuss the fun vacation with my dad and how I joined a dating app.

I did it for the stories. You should thank me.

Thank you.

It's interesting to read my outlook on my own life in the earlier posts in this blog, then compare that to my last two entries. Well, I did say this wouldn't be a straight line toward a happy new life. The reality of it is this is just something many people deal with. I am happy to say that I'm taking steps to learn to cope with and control my life. It's just not easy when your own brain is fighting you. 

My brain is such an asshole sometimes.

This is a bit of a thank you post. Thank you, dear reader, for being there. Since I've started this blog, I've been overwhelmed with the amount of people that have reached out to share their own stories or offer comfort. I can't begin to tell you how much I appreciate each person that has read, commented, or contacted me. Your reactions and support have really meant the world to me, and you've helped me get through this.

When I started writing it was mostly as self-assigned therapy. I really just wanted to get all of these thoughts out of my own head, in a way that would allow me to follow my own progress. For whatever reason, I decided to publish these to a public space that would allow me to share this journey. I am so happy I did. It really means a lot when you tell me you can relate, that it's helped you understand a family member, or just that you've enjoyed reading this. 

I especially love it when people compliment my writing. My thankfulness doesn't interfere with my own ego. 

Thank you to the friends I've made through this process. Thank you to the people that remind me I'm not alone, and this isn't the end. Thank you to the people that have said they've connected with my writing. I hope this continues to help people in some way. Knowing it's had a positive influence on others has given me a purpose. I started writing to help myself, but it's really you all that have helped me.

I have no idea what I'm talking about.

I find it a little irritating when people say things like, “you’re strong, I can’t imagine you crying.” These things aren’t mutually exclusive. People will have feelings, and that’s okay. Those emotions don’t always mean you’re a weak person, just that you’re a person.

So about my last post. Little dark, huh? It happens. Rarely, but it happens.

I’m not depressed because I’m going through a divorce. I’m just depressed and have been for as long as I can remember.  It comes in phases of varying severity and duration. Sometimes I’m just sad, sometimes it feels like what I described to you all, and sometimes it’s worse. Now, this isn’t just because of the divorce. The divorce is just a huge change in my life that has forced me to seek new ways to cope.

At least I had thought so. The more I think about it, the more I realize the Almost Ex didn’t really know how to deal with it. Sometimes that makes me sad, and sometimes I just get angry. Or I feel guilty, because maybe I didn’t listen to him when he did try. Or tell him how to try. Except for that time I said I just needed a hug and he gave me the random-person-at-church-side-hug. Still a little bitter about that.

I’ve always tried to frame this blog around honesty about my experiences and how it can apply to anyone else, or maybe help anyone else understand what someone they love is going through. Not just divorce, mind you, but some huge shifting in their life. Anything that leaves someone standing there and thinking, “now what?” It’s common, it happens, and just because you find yourself in a bad spot doesn’t mean you’re too weak to get through it. It just means you’re human and you have the same human emotions we all do. Unless you’re some kind of empathy-lacking narcissist and well, good for you. Not really a badge of honor, and you should probably talk to someone about it.

That post is probably the last time I’ll go into detail about the depression here. I have friends and medication for that. I just want to make something clear to anyone that reads it and understands it: you’re not alone. Don’t do it alone. You know when to keep up appearances and present the happy face to the world, but don’t be afraid to reach out to someone and tell them how you feel. Too often we isolate ourselves for fear of judgment or the perception of being fragile and weak. We’re worried people will think we’re damaged or find us annoying. Don’t fall for that. People love you and want to help you. If someone doesn’t, you don’t need that negativity in your life anyway. If you’re reading this and rolling your eyes, please fuck off.

If you’re reading this and know someone who is going through something difficult, ask how they are. Be a friend and be there for them. Just tell them you’re there and you care. Try to not make it rhyme though, because that’s annoying.

Now back to me, where focus should always be. I’m not okay, to be honest, but I know I will be. Just as courage isn’t the absence of fear, strength is not the absence of difficulty. That I occasionally find myself drunk and crying in the shower doesn’t mean I won’t get through it. The water’s going to get cold and force me out at some point. Now I just get to try it on my own, but I’m starting to see that it's not a new feeling. But there's almost a sense of peace about being able to not rely on someone else for happiness. I don't know that I'm at that point yet, but I know I will be.

And then I just lost it.

I found an injured frog in my driveway yesterday. It had a hurt, but not broken, back leg and it was just kind of pushing itself along. I picked it up and put it in the grass, and actually checked on it throughout the evening. This morning I found it covered in fire ants, but it was still alive. I (really, I'm serious) wiped off the ants and moved the little injured frog into a part of my yard with higher grass and some good shade. I had no idea what to do but for whatever reason I couldn't just leave this little frog alone. When I got home and went to check on it, it was dead.

I just started sobbing. Ugly cry, audible, can't-see-through-tears crying.

It wasn't the frog. I'm aware infections are an issue for them, because I googled it. I don't know how the frog was even injured. I kind of assumed it would die.

A few days ago marked the anniversary of That Night. The night we suffered a terrible loss to Texas A&M and everything came to a head and my husband told me he was leaving. Not because of the game, but that was a tough loss. It was just when I'd made it painfully clear how much was wrong.

I did warn you, dear reader, that this would get uncomfortable and awkward. I wasn't exaggerating.

For the past few weeks, I kept making mental notes about the date. I had some mild trepidation as it got closer, but I started to feel more confident in myself and how I was handling everything. Finally, the day was here- and I totally forgot. It never even occurred to me that it was one year since the split, and I didn't even think about it until the next night. The had passed, I totally forgot, and I didn't have a breakdown!

And then I remembered. And then came the breakdown. Holy mental anguish, Batman.

It's weird how things I barely noticed before suddenly just stabbed me in the heart. Some of them really obvious, such as the passwords that are my wedding date because I'm too lazy to change them. Or that video of the kid singing "Broken Vow" on The Voice. (The kid sounds amazing, really. You should listen.) Others came out of nowhere. Love-centric decorations I had taken down in my office and packed up, but found when I was trying to clean. That god damned Timehop app with its less than subtle reminders. Names of common friends that aren't my friends anymore and I basically have three people left in my life and jesus I'm going to die alone.

I'll finish school this December, and today I was filling out my graduation application. Since their records are a carry over from undergrad, they still have my maiden name on file. For months I've been pretty excited to change it back from my married name. Still, remembering his name just made me think of that relationship and the future we had planned. I lost it.

Most days, you get by. Most days you're actually happy. But sometimes, you aren't. Some days you can't find any kind of good in your life and you really don't care enough to try. (Well, I can't speak for you. I guess it's just me, but I know I'm not alone in this.) Some days, the only reason I'm still at my desk is because I've been crying and I'm too scared to leave and risk someone seeing me. Some days you don't remember the silver lining. There isn't a silver lining. There isn't a light at the end of the tunnel or a positive side to anything and that shitty little teeter-totter that is my life isn't going back up.

Some days, you sob because that frog died and it just makes you feel helpless and incapable of doing anything right. Some days you know you're the worst thing that's ever happened to you. Some nights you don't go to bed thinking everything's better and you'll be better. Some nights you just go to bed, and hope you won't feel this way when you wake up.

And I ran.

I’ve spent weeks trying to think of a clever intro for this post. I’ll sit down to write, but then it reads like one of those pay-to-publish novels by people that can’t stop talking about themselves even when everyone has stopped reading.

So anyway, let me tell you about what’s been bothering me lately.

The thought of having a boyfriend makes me ill. It makes me want to just run away. If I get a text from a guy that implies anything more than friendship, I can’t stop thinking about dropping my phone and just running away from it. Literally.

I don’t want to sound ungrateful. (Though we all know I’m pretty misanthropic so there’s always a hint of general disdain for mankind in my actions. It’s what makes me, me.) Still, it’s flattering that anyone would volunteer to spend any amount of time with me.  I think it’s sweet when friends or coworkers or people I’ve spoken with once tell me they know the perfect guy for me. It’s a compliment that someone thinks enough of me to not only set me up with a friend of theirs, but also wants to see me happy.

Which is where the disconnect is. I’m not unhappy. I’m actually very happy with my life right now. For the first time in nearly ten years I’m on my own, and can do whatever I want. Yes, I sometimes miss my husband. Yes, divorce is hard and it’s hard to see the future I had planned falling apart. There are still a lot of those moments when it’s difficult to cope.

But there are so many great moments, and as time goes on those happy moods are more and more frequent. I love that I can spend time with friends, take a day trip, or just do nothing. I’m not being held accountable to anyone else. I’m responsible for and own my own life, all the good and bad things about it.

I’m just not keen on letting someone else into my space, and that’s okay. I don’t need someone there constantly asking what we’re doing. Someone that I have to consider with any decision I make. Or someone that’ll come over to my house and mess with my Netflix queue. It takes time to really personalize it!

It’s fun to flirt and chat with people, sure. But at the end of the day I really like going home alone. I’m a firm believer in learning to be happy with me before I even try to be happy with someone else. I want to be comfortable with who I am, so that if I ever start dating it’ll be with someone I want in my life instead of someone I need in my life. I want to be able to share that happiness and not depend on someone else for it.

Plus, I want to order whatever kind of pizza I want. The only ones I’m sharing with are the dogs, and they aren’t picky.