Welcome to the third and final chapter in this series. After tonight, I’ll have nothing left to confess for a while. I think. I still can’t remember where Jimmy Hoffa is, but that could change after a few more treatments. *twitch*
So. If you read Chapter 1, you know that I’m often plagued by a variety of guilt-inducing concerns, both large and small. And if you read Chapter 2, you know that some of my recent wallowing had to do with being unlucky in love.
It stands to reason that Chapter 3 be the crowning glory in a series of regrets, no? I don’t think this will disappoint. But how, you ask, does one top a mother’s anguish over pop-tarts coupled with organic milk, and then a love betrayed?
Two days after I was informed that my love life “wasn’t working out,” I received a similar speech from my boss.
Hey, at least he didn’t do it in an email.
There are a variety of reasons that I cannot/will not go into specifics, of course, but I can clarify a few things:
1) It didn’t have anything to do with the blog. (Which is a pity, really, since a good doocing story is always fun.)
2) I didn’t do anything immoral/illegal/shocking.
3) It was not my choice, but there are a number of reasons why the phrase “blessing in disguise” keeps coming up.
4) I was/am very disappointed.
5) I was/am very relieved.
465 days ago I started this blog because my life had veered so far off the course I’d planned for myself, I wasn’t sure how to move forward without becoming mired in my past. I was alone with two children, unemployed, worried about money, lonely, dealing with a rather acrimonious relationship between my ex and myself, and scared out of my mind.
465 days later I feel I’ve come almost full circle. The children have survived, but almost everything else has vacillated from the very bad through the most excellent and back to the very bad again. The one hold-out keeping this from being a complete deja vu is (to me) the most surprising–I feel I must give public acknowledgement to how truly compassionate my ex has been during this particular period of my life blowing up. Now, I would love to attribute it to growth and maturation on both of our parts, but I suspect it may have more to do with the whole “misery loves company” thing or even just that I am the queen of the “I Am Perfectly Fine And In Control” mask and witnessing the (many) chinks in my armor has got to give him some satisfaction. In truth, I’m not sure how or why things have progressed to a better and kinder place between us, but I’m grateful. I might not have made it through this last month without him.
*Ahem* AND NOW A WORD FROM OUR SPONSOR!
[Cue the Budweiser Beer "Real Men of Genius" background music.]
Today I salute YOU, entirely-too-young-girlfriend of my ex! Most women your age would want a guy who likes to party, or who has gobs of cash, or who can actually join a conversation on occasion. Not you. I don’t understand it, or want to know ANYTHING about it, but it seems to be working for y’all. And I guess maybe he’s not so bad. Godspeed to you both, and keep up the good work!
[Music fades as my ex calls me on the phone to complain.]
Where was I? Oh, right. Yeah. So. The times, they are a changin’. I had to spend some time wallowing, but I think I’m just about done. Plans are taking shape, and most likely they’ll blow up as well, but I’m trying to just go with it, for as long as I can. It turns out that no amount of kicking and screaming on my part can control others or halt the inevitable. Go figure. All I can do is take responsibility for myself, my actions, and work towards the things that are important to me.
Priority one in the wake of Operation Destroy My Stability (ha!) is to revive a dream I’d convinced myself, a few years ago, was too impractical to pursue. Recent events have brought me around to a position of believing it’s impractical not to pursue it.
Kids, it’s time for me to stop screwing around with the excuses and the self-deprecation and get off my ass and make a living as a writer. It makes me hyperventilate a little bit, to type that. But in a good way.
And I believe I WILL look back on this and point and say “That was what I needed to go through to get where I needed to go. Thank GOD.” Right now, I’m just starting to put irons in the fire. In another 465 days I suspect I’ll have a very different story to tell.
Meanwhile, it’s been a really crappy four weeks or so. I’m still working on moving forward instead of looking back. Want to help? Leave me a comment… yes, YOU, even you lurkers (and pretty pretty please, reader from Playboy? You too!), and tell me I’m pretty. Or shake your pom-poms. And offer me freelance work, or pass me along to someone who will. Or just say hi.
And stay tuned for the next chapter… the only promise I can make right now is that it won’t be boring, but maybe that’s enough.