My husband gave me a pep talk last night. I was having one of my meltdowns, and I have to give him credit where credit is due. He sat there and held my hand while I blubbered away, sniffling loudly, trying to get it all out. He listened to my worries, and addressed how to handle each one. He gave his suggestions for moving forward, and gave me some direction, which I welcomed. He’s good. I always said he should be a motivational speaker.
2013 was a particularly crappy year, and I’m happy to see it go. I won’t bore you with all the gory details, but here are the highlights: I was, and am, still looking for full-time employment; I was hired at a company for three weeks until they decided they didn’t have enough work for me anymore; we had to put a boatload of cash into the repair of our primary vehicle (a minivan with almost 150,000 miles on it); and a close friendship that was very valued by me came to an abrupt end for still-unclear reasons. Oh, and let’s not forget the highlight of the year! Our 19-year-old daughter, without our knowledge or consent, snuck off and married a man she’s known less than a year. How did we find out about it? It was in the public records of the local newspaper.
My most recent meltdown came as a result of the convergence of several circumstances at once: a handful of potential employment turndowns in a matter of just a few days, the return of our eldest from a trip to sunny Florida, where she spent a week playing house with her “husband” (she is still living at home until she can get an approval for a military base transfer from Uncle Sam); the loss of the close friendship still weighing heavily on me; and the incessant and more frequent rising and ebbing of hormones, as womanly life changes have begun happening upon my person. Let me tell ya…those hot flashes are a bitch.
So, on top of being an emotional ticking time bomb of late, I’ve been feeling like a person cast adrift with no direction and no idea which way to go. I’ve doubted everything that I have always considered myself capable of doing. I’ve doubted my skills because no one has hired me. I’ve doubted my thoughts because I have literally overanalyzed everything happening in my life (a truly exhausting and all-consuming practice, believe me). I’ve doubted myself as a mother, as a daughter, as a friend. Everything I thought I knew has turned ass-backwards. Pass the wine, please.
So, I’m starting from scratch, as they say. I’m a writer, so I’m going to write. It has always been my North Star, from the age of six.
How about this? If you like what you read, if it makes you smile or think for one second, “I can totally relate to that,” then do me a favor. Share this. Pass it along to someone who could use a smile, or would like to know that someone else has gone through what they’re going through. Or just leave me a comment.
I’m no Jane Austen or J.K. Rowling or anyone important. I’m just me.
And this is my gift.