Sometimes singleness sucks...

Sometimes I hate being single…. is that so wrong?

if I am to have the ultimate experience, then I am convinced I am to have it with another. I can see that all experience is heightened in importance and weight by sharing it with people….but most especially, by sharing it with A Person.

And so brings us to my dilemma: sometimes I hate being single.

I am not one of those cat-hair fleckeled divorcees – with children in therapy and my ex-husband's wife as my "best friend". I am a real woman, here. Yes I get an inordinate amount of child support but I went out and got it straight from him. And I earn it.

But then again, I am your typical unhappily single divorcee; looking for love. or whatever. At least I was.

I've come to know that I'll never find the ultimate experience by looking for it—I would have found it by now… believe me. I've got no choice but to follow God's path laid out before me. My treasure awaits. Or maybe not. Regardless, …….. I know God has a plan for all of this.

i'm just not confident in my ability to wait on the Lord. You know what I mean?
I get so dang jealous. It's pathetic. I get jealous of BAD relationships.

Sometimes I think I'd rather be tangled up with a dysfunctional dude in distress than sit here in the bed alone another night. Come on people. I'm too much fun and just too damn cute to still be alone. And that's just the big ole baby inside of me getting out to cry a while.

At morning's light… and the end of even a long day, I am so grateful for my own independence and solitude. I love being me. And I'm really good at it. Being with someone would be good too.

Especially someone I thought was as cool as I am. Is that possible?

But to focus on the issue, as to pluck it out and get rid of it for now: sometimes I hate being so utterly alone. I hate being single tonight. And I'm not apologizing for being pissed off about it. I'm not gloria steinem. I'm okay with needing a man………

Once in a while.

I hate being single tonight. Tomorrow… I'm believing……will be better in the light.

Trust Me ... random notes from my journey

I lie. i guestimate about 17% of my words and thoughts are lies.

I can coddle them as truth, but somewhere between you and I or just me, myself and I—it's still lies. Milk is not green. No matter how many times I tell you it is. A lie's a lie. and 17% is too high.

Here's what I'm thinking: if I don't believe the shit I say, it's only logic that I won't believe what you say. even when you are telling me the truth. and that causes problems in my relationships. {cue trust issues here, please}.

Now it's not like I tell big lies. Think about it: you lie too.

Was traffic really so bad yesterday that you were late to work? are you really allergic to shellfish?
Did you read DaVinci code? really? Yeah. I've met you.

It's the source of it, as usual, that I'm trying to uncover and take a look at. I have to figure out why I'm lying to myself so that I can trust you—and have a more kick-ass existance. while marbled veins of lie may inevitably mingle through the steaks of everyday speech; I want to dig through the dirt of my lies and uncover my big ugly truth. it can't be that bad. i might even learn to accept myself a little more.

ultimately, the rewards are twofold: I get stronger, healthier relationships —plus— I take a leap forward in my self-journey.
life leaps rock. Slides suck.
So, why lie to people; to myself? Hmmm. according to me, I'm putting a nice dent in my debt, I've lost five pounds and I'm really starting to love my job. Sounds pretty good. I like that me.

Now let's tap into some truth: every couple of months I might add fifty bucks to my credit card minimum payment. I've actually been overspending on fast food and dollar store junk. I think I gained a pound last week and if I don't get out of this job, I'll be back in therapy before I'm 40.
Ew. That sounds un-fun. I no like that me. Lie sounds better.
I lie to make me sound better than I am. Like when someone asks me how old I am and I trim off a few years. It's in my best interest. The lies are working for me, not against me… right. Keep telling yourself that one.

Purity is found only in truth. There is no value in the untruth. Ever.

Besides, real women don't rationalize.

Here's the plan. live a life where I am comfortable with my own truth. There are going to be spike strips that get thrown under my wheels and deflate my self-esteem now and then. The finesse is in acknowledging that I'm driving around with a flat tire for a while.

Sometimes life isn't all happy meals and pool toys—I've got debt that I need to take care. It's time to get a handle on my career, if I'm to have one. There's no shame in pulling the car over, changing the tire (which might take a while depending on how deep the spikes are buried), getting back on the road and confessing the whole pit stop to the world.

Here's the thing : I want stellar relationships. nothing is more important about my time here than to build connection between me and everybody else. If I only get that, i get a lot. but I can't build an exceptional connection when I constantly doubt you. or when i don't like me. I've got to be willing to let you lie to me. Maybe your lie will hurt me. Point is: the connection is worth it.

I admit it: I've got issues—I don't trust you. I don't believe you. what if I don't trust you because I don't trust me. My truth should be good enough for you. it would be, if it was good enough for me--

I lie sometimes. i'm striving for a less than 8% median.

At least I never said I read DiVici code.

It's just me. Go about your regular lives…

There are some things that I am really good at. Some things, in fact, that I might even say I am the best at of anyone I know. Like writing a card; I can touch you with few words. Like singing a beatles lullaby to my daughter. In the small hours of chronic coughs and temperatures: I'm the mom you want in your ear. My chicken and dumplings are—let's face it—legendary. There are things I do well.

However.

I am inept at one thing: I'm not good with boyfriends. Not really that I'm not good with them, just that I'm not good at getting them; my procurement skills leave something to be desired. What I am good at is attracting them, then unintentionally making them think I'm psychotic. Which I find pretty funny and basically pathetic. And which they just about never find funny but do stop calling. Immediately.

I'm starting to think it's not them: it might even be me.

I'm naturally curious. I'll tell you right out about it: I'm going to google you. From that I may get a map to your house, I might find out where you work, I might even find out your wife's name. But I'm not stalking you. I'm just naturally curious. I'm interested in you. I like you.

And all that might be well and good except for my basic weakness: talk. I cannot keep my mouth closed. Even now in the middle of the night, I have to tell you what I'm thinking. And so! When I tell you I googled you: guess what? Yes, I am good at making them think I'm psychotic. And no matter how hilarious I think it is when other chicks stalk you….let's face it: I am not crazy. just a little unwell.

It's my dang boundaries, folks. I've got brick walls up where there should be shrubbery and I've got little tufts of monkey grass around my vulnerability. I would love to be able to sit here and think it through then stand up and point my finger at the reason why I'm that way. Lord knows it's not my fault. Right?

No, no. it's his fault..

He made me believe we were building on concrete then one day thought it'd be funny to tell me it was really a pool. Then he filled it up with water. and I thought I really might drown in that freaking thing. Unti I re-learned how to swim.
Yes, Everything is his fault

No, no. It's mom's fault. If she would've taken her divorce better, then I would have had a role model. I would've seen how to date after divorce. I'd never have made all these mistakes if she had done it differently. See. It was her.

No, no. it's dad's fault. No. his wife's. Whichever. Equating drunkeness and wildness with the good life. Celebration was more important than a cause for it. Even if there was cause for sadness. Let's have a drink, we'll all be laughing soon enough. Tin foil wrapped around air. Why would I be able to discern what is honest or a lie; I've never known anyone authentic.

So bring out your boxes. Of kleenex. And please cry in pity for me. I'm nothing more than a product of my experiences. i have become cumbersome. melodramatic in the shallow bits and aloof when the plot thickens. I'm bitter, but cute.

i've had enough therapy. it's just me after all. stick around a while and then you'll see...a different side of me. i'm funny as hell. i'm so smart it scares you, in the good way. and that smile. this is who i am. i'm not gonna stalk you, i just have to find a way to introduce myself so you don't run off screaming.

it took me a long time to perfect my chicken and dumplings. two words: white wine. Eight years ago when my daughter was born, that beatles lullaby wasn't very soothing for anybody. I write out what I want to say on a piece of paper before I write it on the $5 card.

I recognize the need for improvement.

maybe i should put a gate--or two, in this brick wall. i've propped up a couple fence boards around the heart I wear on my sleeve--we'll see how they hold while i put down a post. i might even keep my mouth shut…

I'm thinking not googling you, though, is pretty much out of the question

letter to an old friend

jenn!

a thousand apologies for not writing sooner. i don't know how to catch up anymore, i guess. twice i've sat down to write you, and frankly, didn't really know where to begin.

it's harder to mark time when there are not obvious milestones around anymore. i remember when bailey was first walking, pulling up to things... then when allie was first able to hold a crayon and make some kind of recognizable symbol. i remember bailey's first day of kindergarten. seems like yesterday and another life all at the same time.



Allie turned five last week:she'll start kindergarten in the fall. she's able to write her name, and speaks like your all-consuming american 13 yr old most days. she's got a quick wit and is her mom in spades, which as i know more than anyone, has it's good points --and BAD. :)

tony left on april 12 2003, so there's a kind of a time marker, i guess. i feel more over my divorce than i ever have, although if you would've asked me a year ago, i would have said the same thing. maybe one day i'll wake up and forget his face. then maybe one day forget his name. HA.. i'm guessing not...

bailey is 9 now, about to finish third grade: yep, that means she'll be in fourth grade next year. you know what that means. buckle the seatbelt, pull the bar down over your knees: here comes boys. and tampons and pimples...and, .. oh my g...boobs.

okay, maybe not all of them in fourth grade, but i do feel like i'm in that dip right before you start to clack, clack, clack up that huge hill on the texas cyclone. .. you just know there's a big drop on the other side of that hill. . that hill is my daughter the teenager. she's just sitting there,like a huge hill i'll be dropped off of...soon.

let's see...what else? i'm not sure how much i told you about the 57 yr old guy i fell hard for last year. honestly jennifer, i don't know that i've ever met a man before that i felt more instantly connected to and so accepted by. it was weird,and cool and so completely un-doable... he's back in singapore these days, and we never talk anymore, but it was just enough to make me really want someone in my life, and also bring to light that i am lonely. i try to look at it as an experience and one that really gave me hope someone is on my horizon--that will really understand me, but also like me....is that possible? hmmmm....

work is... ugh.. it's just a job. i daydream about writing a quirky little novel or doing a snarky-attitude memoir about being a sexy single mom... (HA)... but in the meantime, i quote car insurance and eat food from paper plates at a desk.

all in all, old friend, i am very content and hopeful these days, all of my trademark cynism aside. i created one of those vision boards that oprah goes on about. haven't seen any of the stuff jump off that corkboard and into my life yet, but supposedly you just put the pictures on there and let the universe do the work, so i'm all in on that plan.

i wish we lived closer, so that once in a while when i get that wild rush to jump in the car, i could come visit you... course there are other friends who do live close enough... and i don't ever get that wild rush! are we too busy? or just too lazy? :) depends on the day for me.

with lots of love: past, present and future-

julie

now leaving Fun Country

i am from Fun Country. years of therapy and this is what i come away with: Fun Country.

i move and work out of a 'good times' space. if it feels good, do it. if it's gonna get me tipsy, drink it. if it's chocolate, eat it. if the card works, charge it. whatever the cost, whatever the means; what the fuck, let's have some fun.

you probably lived in Fun Country during college, where you enjoyed all-night drive thrus, resin-stained fingers, hangovers on Wednesday. a stereotypical college kid sucks the juice out of Fun Country and wipes his mouth on his shirt sleeve.

after 7 years of skipping class and getting by on bullshit, i got my degree. dad joyfully forced me off the bank account and left me to decide what i want to be when i grew up. nevertheless, my native tongue remained smooth on my lips. and by not deciding what i wanted to be, i decided not to grow up. pay it when the pink bill comes. tonight, get some cash and hit happy hour. up all night, sleep through the snooze alarm. late for work again. dig out clothes from the dryer and wash a fork from the sink. life was catch as catch-can, but dangit, i was having a good time.

my divorce knocked my feet out from under me. but moreover, it was a valid excuse to embrace reckless abandon of all things grown up--and no one would give me shit about it. even in my own mind, i excused my irresponsibility in the name of "you deserve it." i felt a calling to run away from my life, and i heeded the call.

after leaving the marriage debt-free with a nice savings account, a few years in Fun Country left me with overdue credit card bills that grew exponentially with every late payment. my kids weren't babies anymore and had by now figured out that mom went from work to the bar and might come home before they went to bed, but more likely the nanny would tuck them in. and wake them up. and cook for them. i behaved like a spoiled kid... course, i come by that honestly having been raised as a spoiled child by a couple of spoiled parents, but that's fodder for another day. therapy did give me a little more than just insight into my Fun Country citizenship.

i was a 40 year old teenager, with the body of a 52 year old woman. now that ain't fun. but i partied on dude, screw the consequences.

the problem with Fun Country is that it's hard, nary impossible, to move into grown-up land when you refuse to acknowledge anything in life that isn't a good time. and while all night drive thrus are a lot of fun, 2AM french fries and strawberry shakes at midnight don't sit on a 36 year stomach as well as a 25 year old one...and the scale begins to show what heartburn doesn't. more than bumpy thighs and afternoon alka-seltzer, living in Fun Country stunted my growth--in my mind, in my head and in my heart.

my therapist put words to it, but it took another 2 years of wandering for the words to become action. but eventually, this old kid got tired of laughing in the face of reality. instead of making a resolution in the haze of another wednesday morning hangover, i made changes one weekend at a time. starting with reconnecting with my kids. then myself. writing instead of talking. moving instead of sleeping. sleeping instead of drinking.

it's been about a month since i started packing boxes and making my move from Fun Country. i've had to pack away a few friendships, seal up the snooze alarm and close up the late night kitchen full of munchies. slowly, i'm getting some distance between me and my studio apartment in Fun Country. my bills are all current. my kids wait for me in the evenings, and aren't disappointed. cabinet clutter is clearing and my vision board is up and running.

i still see the exit signs for Fun Country in my rearview mirror (let alone the evidence of living there on my waistline), but i'm focused on the windshield, looking forward. and i see an organized little house in my path.

it's cliche: you can't drive a car with three wheels. you can't sit in a chair with a missing leg. you can't ride a unicycle with a pile of bricks on your head... can you? anyhoo... you can't be an effective adult if you're make choices like a child. you gotta have some balance.

for now, i'm not having much fun.

paying bills on time doesn't always leave enough cash for vodka with the boys after work. cleaning the house and keeping two kids organized is a pain in the ass. credit counseling? there is nothing fun about that. coming straight home, waking up early, getting to work and making sure the oil is changed all on time--it takes discipline. i miss Fun Country.

there was no discipline in Fun Country, maybe a bit of endurance, certainly a dash of gusto, but no discipline. But there was also no security, no sense of accomplishment, no self-acknowledgment. no balance. to keep the pendulum in the middle, i have to swing it way far to the right for a while, because it was so stuck on the left. the thrust will pull it back to the middle and maybe, just maybe, if all goes well, i'll have a balanced pendulum in a month or so.

the key to moving out of Fun Country was admitting that i needed to live a disciplined life if i wanted to feel balanced and centered... and grown up. i had to move out of my swingers pad and into a suburban home, fit for a successful single mom and two little darlings... and a nanny. i decided i was ready to leave Fun Country, but no sense in speeding out of there too fast.

i haven't left Fun Country forever. Summertime julie will get a condo for a week in Fun Country while the kids visit their dad in july. i'll swing by from time to time, around the holidays. Fun Country is a great place to visit, but i wouldn't want to live there.