As my birthday fast approaches (and with it a terrible number I never thought I would see) I’ve realized a few things. For one thing, I’m a bit of a drama queen. “Oh no” you scoff. I can hear you. I am for sure. I don’t like it but there it is and there is no 12-step program out there for it either.
Being a drama queen is not as easy as you might think. Think of all the work involved. There are many ups and downs in my life that have nothing to do with my brain/mental health/moods. Granted some do. I don’t go out of my way to create drama; it just seems to follow me around like my daughter’s
explosion of horrible stinking gas delicate fluff as she walks by me in the kitchen.
See? Drama right there. It’s an art.
I know lots of people have lots of stories about me and drama. I won’t go into them here although some may try to tell you stories in the comments. Check with me first.
At this stage/age, I want something different; something more than just drama.
What does that mean exactly? Well, funny you should ask that because I’m just about to tell you.
I want to look at myself. Not just glance in a mirror and swear at my hair but really be able to look at myself and say, “Now that’s just fine”. When I look at myself I do not want to be looking for the imperfections, (believe me there are more everyday, when will I ever run out?!) and just be happy to see me there. It’s not just on the outside I feel I’m lacking but I find so many things wrong on the inside too. There was a time I couldn’t sleep nights thinking of more things that were wrong with me. Dr. G. gave me back my sleep with his amazing combination of meds. Not only the gift of my sleep, of course; he gave me back my life. So I do all my fretting in the daytime.
Okay, now that was heavy and rather dramatic but necessary for you to see how desperately I need to be comfortable.
I don’t want to worry about money. Actually, I don’t mind worrying about money just not as much as I have been these past couple of years. I hate owing everyone for everything. This just causes drama and you might have heard I swore off that stuff.
To be comfortable I would have to have good smells around me. I love good smells. Freshly mown grass, cookies baking, as long as they’re not baking in my house as that would cause more drama, see. I would eat them all. It would not be the daughter crying and carrying on because they’re gone. It would be me because I gained 5 more pounds and I can’t look in the mirror again. I love the smell of healthy sweat. I always smell my arm after being outside in the sun. My skin smells almost nutty and smells like the sun.
When I was pregnant with Carly, my sense of smell was so acute that man could not come to bed until he thoroughly showered. Which he rarely did at the best of times. When he did, though, I always knew if he missed a spot. Needless to say, he slept on the couch a lot. I had bad smells here last night when the wind turned and the slaughterhouse aromas wafted through my windows. Nothing like the smell of shit born of fear from cattle being herded to their death.
Oooookay, a little much, so sorry.
Comfortable would mean having friends I actually see; not just my far-away-friends or my Facebook friends or even my blog or Twitter friends. A group of women who want to get together and yak, have a little wine and try to save the world. They could be there when I need them and I will always be there for them. Always.
I have a comfortable relationship with my family, even if it has shrunk the last few years. I am close to one sister and her family and my kids, of course. I love them all so much I practically ache. They mean the world to me and, surprisingly, this intensity is sooo comfortable. And necessary.
I would like a comfortable relationship with a man who’s not afraid to have a relationship and won’t feel it necessary to mess up ours. I want Clarence. He’s my sister’s husband. Not really Clarence but a man like him. Someone who knows who he is and comfortable with his life and himself. He works together with his wife and family to have lives that are fulfilling and their children are more than just socially acceptable. He sees that his family is nourished, not just with food, but with love, respect and support. He works hard and doesn’t complain.
I am no longer seeing the fella, Dennis, after a year of giving it a try. We got close to it but something in both of us just didn’t fit together for the long-term. Settling isn’t comfortable for me. I’ve done that too many times already. Besides, he didn’t seem to think I was so shit hot anyway. I was ready to move on too.
Ah, now how to get to this point of comfortable? Smells are easy as long as people don’t mind me telling them how great they smell. These would be strangers and no one called the cops yet.
I am trying to stay in contact with my women friends in the city. We all have busy lives. I see a course or hobby in my future and then I can meet new people who will share my interests. I’m just not sure what to pursue. I will do something though but must first search for time. Once I’m back to work at my second job time will be a premium. Well, I will find a way. I put it in writing after all.
Finding a man? It can wait. Enough damage done with the last couple of guys. I really hate the thought of all those firsts where I used to look forward to them. I don’t want to make small talk or wonder about kissing and heaven forbid getting naked in front of someone again. I was just getting comfortable with Dennis.
And no, Clarence does not have any available brothers.
So that’s the plan, what there is of it. Feel free to voice ideas, thoughts and travel plans in the comments. I would love to hear from you.