I am, once again, a single parent.
And I’m not sure quite how I feel right now.
I took a break from blogging. Mainly, because I was feeling a little “burnt”, between the frustrations of work being hectic, school ending for the kids, graduation for a friend’s child coming up, trying to finish writing my book before my birthday-deadline, and the whole “divorce in limbo” thing, I’d had it up to my eyeballs, and couldn’t think of anything interesting, entertaining, or even semi-coherent, to say.
I’m still not completely back, but I wanted to let my friends out here in Blogsville know, that I’m breathing, I’m upright, and I’m still here. I will be back, full-time, soon. Just not right now. I still have a few things I need to deal with, before I can really get back into the swing of 5-days-a-week-blogging.
And this has all happened so fast, that I’m just now starting to get a handle on how to process the things that have happened, just in the last 2 months.
When I started realizing that I needed to be single again, to not be married, I was terrified of what was going to happen. It was so overwhelming, and I kind of fell off the deep end, emotionally. What that meant for my friends and family, was that they were dealing with an extraordinary amount of radical moodswings from me. I would be manic-hyper-happy one moment, and super-depressive-moody the next. There was also a lot of repressed, snarky anger and guilt thrown in the mix. I never really knew, myself, when the mood-swings would strike.
I cried. A Lot.
I vented. A Lot.
I fell into moody depressions where all I wanted to do was curl up in a corner, somewhere, and turn my face to the wall.
There are still times, like just in the last couple of days, where I contemplated simply packing my bags, and checking out. Running.
I question people’s motives, their actions, and their words. I may not say it out loud, and I know, somewhere inside my head and heart, that I’m reading too much into everything, overanalyzing – but I still wonder… if maybe I’d be better off simply starting over somewhere that no one knows me. No past. No judgments. No preconceived ideas about how things should be, or how I should be acting, Only future. I’ve had people tell me that for as much as I’ve changed over the last few years, they wish I was how I used to be. Happy, outgoing, carefree.
I wish I could be that person. But I’m not her.
That person was happy, yes. Mostly because she was so focused on the present moment, and the fun to be had, that she didn’t stop and take a look around at the consequences of her actions, most of the time. A great deal of the time, the only person that ended up getting hurt, was her. And she dealt, and moved on. But, sometimes, the fallout of her “present-mindedness” hurt others. She didn’t see it, blew right past it, on to the next thing. She was young. It’s over, and I don’t have many regrets from that time. But there are a couple that linger.
That person was outgoing, definitely. She could talk to just about anyone and didn’t worry about social class boundaries, or age boundaries. She could talk to adults, teens, and children, all with the same candor, humor, and respect for whatever group she was in. She was a chameleon and a social butterfly, flitting from one group to another, able to talk, at least a little, about almost any subject. She still lives within me, and I treasure her ability to help me blend in and get along. Her skills have been invaluable to me in my line of work, making me able to talk to lenders, realtors, and customers alike, and do so in a professional and honest manner, while still being friendly, helpful and pleasant. Sometimes, even funny.
That person was carefree. Well… I don’t know about that moniker, so much. If by “Care- Free” you mean having no cares, no worries? Well, yeah, I suppose. Mostly, because she simply didn’t face the problems. She ran from them. So, yeah, she was care-free. But not “Problem-Free”. Those came back like a boomerang.
And even after I got married, I was pretty happy. I can admit that. There were a lot of good years, happy, content years. I had a good job, a nice house, 3 wonderful children, and a man that supported me, accepted me, and was affectionate with me.
And honestly? I couldn’t tell you when it started to fail. It was a slow descent, an erosion of what brought us together in the first place. And I know that it was not all his fault. I was in the relationship too.
But it wasn’t all my fault, either.
And when I realized that the wine was turning to vinegar, I tried to reverse the process. But, hints weren’t enough. Stronger measures, coming right out and bluntly telling him that I needed more, wasn’t enough.
I’ve never thought of myself as a “high-maintenance” kind of person. I’m pretty low-key most of the time. But… if you don’t ever work on keeping a relationship going, much less strong, it will fail. Every time.
And he was content to sit (literally) and watch me do all the work.
That didn’t work for me.
(To Be Continued)