It’s called life and it’s a wicked mistress.
Life will crush your dreams with each violent gallop in the opposite direction of your perfectly laid out plans. Sometimes you’re drowning in your own ocean of pain, sometimes your swaying to gentle rhythms of grace and still others you’ll be searching for a fragment of sense.
You could say my humble housewife dreams of this becoming a photography blog. . .blew up. In fact, 10 days after my last post was published I packed up everything I owned into a small car and surrendered my title of “wife” in the middle of a freezing cold start to the new year. I’d had enough.
Enough hiding, lying, excusing, pretending that all was fine and dandy, enough bruising, crying curled up on the bathroom floor while he slept without a care in the world. Enough. The panic attacks were enough to motivate me to make a change.
I did, 3 years, 6 months and 8 days ago I chose myself and in consequence altered my whole world. Everything I had worked for was in ashes now, the lies were exposed, my husband well, he wasn’t happy about it, but it did give him the freedom to continue pursing the girl with a horses mane for hair.
I spent the next year crying my way through buckets of Baskin-Robbins Chocolate Chip Ice Cream. . .at night after I doing all the bad ass life re-building and such. Once I pulled myself through the clutches of a very trying quarter life crisis, I had the audacity to make some slightly not great decisions. Example: Signing up on Christian Mingle. . .collective gasp, those are some real winners! Haha
Being thrown back into the dating world after 7 years of seclusion was akin to being thrown to the wolves. Some hungry, nasty, two faced, only want ya for one reason wolves. And that was just Christian Mingle! Oui, I must have advertised myself on 5 or 6 dating sites. Mama was desperate for some lovin, I felt like I was 3 laps behind what with my ex being engaged like 43 seconds after we were legally severed. He was no prize but that really F word-ing hurt.
Flash forward a few months and I found myself in a monogamous long distance relationship with a manipulative man child who couldn’t chase a dream to save his life. We’ll call him. . . Jedi and he was bought into my life by, you guessed it. . .Christian Tingle. (Bahhhh how did I ever give that website my credit card deets?!)
My eyes were all fogged over, probably from my ovaries that were drying up, and I decided that he was marriage material probably because DING! DING! DING! I had not yet (note the word YET) gone to therapy to figure out why it is that I seem to bring all the elusive egotistical weirdos to the yard.
About 7 months in, otherwise known as the dark period/when I actually found out that my ex was engaged. That summer was probably the worst of my life, I was trying so hard to be fine and I wasn’t fine. I lost it, like legit LOST IT. It was the end of the star-warian-jedi wannabe-man-child and I (#praisehands) he came to see me while I was in the middle of a real diagnose-able depression, things got pond scum ugly.
Like, basically I was zombied out on the prescriptive cure for my depression and Jedi flipped the canoe we were in AND THEN blamed it on me?! Consider that the final nail in that coffin, sort of (errrrmm may have revised “the Jedi” briefly post break up via text) yeah life’s exciting, eh?!
Oh man, I’m boring myself. No need to keep waltzing down my disastrous dating past. I will say it got crazier once I joined the masses on Tinder. . .until one swipe right led me to the man that I consider to be my best friend & lover.
So that’s my life, I’m kind of a disaster, I haven’t lost any weight in the last 2 years, I haven’t truly adulted and I literally just sat on my cheapo loveseat-impersonating-a-full-sized-couch and finished the Pretty Little Liars series, and yes, I cried. 30 has never been closer than it is now and I want my voice back. I don’t want to hide it, but I don’t care to share it with my own social media affiliates, which probably means that the only person who will read this is, me over and over while I edit it meticulously to please my ghost audience. Whatever, I don’t care. My hand cramps up while journaling but I could type all day. I like to think that this is my little corner of the world to blow off steam, offer unsolicited advice, share whatever I’m heart eye emoji-ing and maybe make an impact.I mean, I AM a millennial and we are all obsessed with the idea of leaving an impact on a world that could care less.
So, stay tuned, maybe. . .