Being Crazy Isn’t Enough…
Dr. Seuss knows best.
I’ve dyed my hair four times in the past six weeks only to settle on the color I bought exactly seven weeks ago: Chocolate Brown. I kept trying to go lighter and lighter not wanting to come to terms with the fact that it’s winter here in New York. I thought if I stayed a honey blonde that I could will away the snow and freezing temperatures.
Apparently my willpower can’t change the weather or seasons.
That’s okay! This new color is a good mix of ‘godiva chocolate’ and ‘warm cocoa’ so if I get hungry, I’ll just check myself out in the mirror and hope that helps.
I’m restless.
Part of it is my back keeps me from moving too quickly or doing too much. And that sucks, but it’s also probably helping me learn to relax a bit. I said ‘a bit’ not a lot.
Part of my restlessness is because I keep coming back to this issue of hobbies. I’ve talked about it to death, at least to myself. Now it’s time to do something about it. So I’m starting here with this very space that has been devoted to my love life for the past three years. Eek. Gads. Three freaking years of telling you about a breakup that just didn’t seem to want to go away. Or that I would let go of. Whatever.
No matter that I kept channeling my inner Jesse Jackson and ‘kept hope alive.’ But, just between us, it was worth it. I got to have multiple shots at trying to have something special and you can’t really be mad just because something doesn’t work out. Plus so many other wonderful things and people came into my life during the past 36 months that I can’t really complain. Then there’s the fact that I practically staged my own version of Adele’s “Someone Like You” on my first trip to Paris so there’s that.
Here’s what I can take away from all of this learning I kept putting myself through:
I will forever be grateful to all of my friends who let me cry on their shoulders over the past three years. Never once did they threaten to strangle me, even though I can admit I might not have been as patient.
The next time a woman calls me to tell me that the man I love told her that he was in love with her, I will believe her. This has now happened twice to me in 20 years and it doesn’t suck less because I’m older. Thinking I’m ‘winning’ something by being the first is stupid. There, I said it.
People change when they want to not when you need them to. This is a big one. It’s also the one I’ve had the most trouble coming to terms with but it’s very important.
My apartment feels nicest when I’m in it and not stressed.
French can be learned by a 40 year old woman with no talent for foreign languages. I’m going to test out this theory over and over again in 2014.
My best work is still inside me, waiting for me to admit that my fear of abandonment started when I was about four and realized my mom had forgotten me at school. The fact that I wasn’t surprised or scared or even sad tells me that I was preparing myself for something big. Or at least preparing myself to always know how to get myself home.
The best part of being me is having A for a daughter. I never have to worry if I’m on the right path – that she wants to be home with me, tell me her secrets and looks forward to long trips together tells me all of the things I used to be too afraid to tell myself.Namely that I was meant to be her mom.
I never want to be in love with someone who is in love with someone else or is in any way confused by their love for me. I think that is a reminder from one of those lessons I just wrote above but it’s really damned important. So I’m saying it again, just in a slightly different way.
This whole blog is about to undergo a makeover in content (and partially in style, woo hoo!).
Like I said, this hobby thing is really screwing with me. Over the next few days we’ll (and by ‘we’ll’ I mean ‘I’ll’ but ‘you’ll’ be included) change lots of things, keep some the same, move things around and get ready to find that elusive hobby thingy-ma-bob.
What’s the worst that can happen? I have great insurance. Wait. Bail money. I should start setting aside bail money. You need to do this with me. Don’t think about it. If you think about it you’ll talk yourself out of it and that would be bad. Really bad.
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