This time of year is rough for a lot of people, I guess, with the ending of the Christmas season followed by Valentine's Day, all wrapped in a cold white coat of Winter. I can't say I'm any different. Valentine's Day is a mixed bag for me. My little sister's birthday which is something I celebrate and a reminder that I'm apparently not a keeper, which I obviously do not celebrate. Dee got mad at me for saying I'm not the kind of person who inspires others to romanticism or big gestures but it's how I feel. In truth, I don't really need grand gestures but I guess every woman at some point enjoys them...hell, I'd be happy with LITTLE gestures. Maybe just a reminder that I count and matter to someone, somewhere.
This melancholy that's so pervasive right now with me gets shattered by random oddities, like the cotton candy sunrise I saw on my way to work: pinks and purples finger-painted across the sky like Mother Nature was letting her inner child out to play. Or by the sound of my aging Reece-dog snoring like an 80 yr old man, sprawled out next to me on the couch dreaming his doggy dreams and waking only long enough to raise his head, look at me with bleary eyes, then plop back down with a sigh.
The sounds of my sons laughing raucously in the basement family room with friends while playing Cards Against Humanity, a sound I hold near and dear to my heart because so often anymore the rooms of my house ring with a quietness I'm not used to.
A song unexpectedly on the radio or Spotify at work, blooming memories in my head of times with the boys in the car or concerts enjoyed with friends or happy pieces of my puzzled life.
I miss companionship. I miss cuddles. I miss conversations with someone who gets and accepts me as me, not some version of me they've concocted in their head. Beyond having a significant other, I miss feeling...ALIVE. I'm not depressed, really, just sort of in a holding pattern it feels like. Like I'm a Boeing 747 making laps in the air space above, waiting for my turn to land, not crashing, not rising, just maintaining altitude and watching out for the random bird or call from air traffic control.
I miss having friends to do things with and at 40..how do you MAKE friends? It's not like kindergarten where you could walk up to the little girl with pigtails like yours and ask to be friends or the boy with the scraped knee who rides a bike you covet. I have my online friendships that I cherish but I can't morph them through the computer to come lounge on the couch with me and binge watch American Horror Story or Downton Abbey. I can't wave my magic wand and enjoy a new restaurant with them over drinks and giggles.
Maybe that's the crux of it all, this isolation I feel. I knew moving here would bring that but perhaps I hoped that it wouldn't be a lengthy thing. And maybe the realization that it is...is leaving me more than a little at loose ends. Combine that with my mid-life melancholy and you have a perfect storm of moody me.
It makes me want to smack my own self out of it. And that...made me snort and laugh out loud.
This melancholy that's so pervasive right now with me gets shattered by random oddities, like the cotton candy sunrise I saw on my way to work: pinks and purples finger-painted across the sky like Mother Nature was letting her inner child out to play. Or by the sound of my aging Reece-dog snoring like an 80 yr old man, sprawled out next to me on the couch dreaming his doggy dreams and waking only long enough to raise his head, look at me with bleary eyes, then plop back down with a sigh.
The sounds of my sons laughing raucously in the basement family room with friends while playing Cards Against Humanity, a sound I hold near and dear to my heart because so often anymore the rooms of my house ring with a quietness I'm not used to.
A song unexpectedly on the radio or Spotify at work, blooming memories in my head of times with the boys in the car or concerts enjoyed with friends or happy pieces of my puzzled life.
I miss companionship. I miss cuddles. I miss conversations with someone who gets and accepts me as me, not some version of me they've concocted in their head. Beyond having a significant other, I miss feeling...ALIVE. I'm not depressed, really, just sort of in a holding pattern it feels like. Like I'm a Boeing 747 making laps in the air space above, waiting for my turn to land, not crashing, not rising, just maintaining altitude and watching out for the random bird or call from air traffic control.
I miss having friends to do things with and at 40..how do you MAKE friends? It's not like kindergarten where you could walk up to the little girl with pigtails like yours and ask to be friends or the boy with the scraped knee who rides a bike you covet. I have my online friendships that I cherish but I can't morph them through the computer to come lounge on the couch with me and binge watch American Horror Story or Downton Abbey. I can't wave my magic wand and enjoy a new restaurant with them over drinks and giggles.
Maybe that's the crux of it all, this isolation I feel. I knew moving here would bring that but perhaps I hoped that it wouldn't be a lengthy thing. And maybe the realization that it is...is leaving me more than a little at loose ends. Combine that with my mid-life melancholy and you have a perfect storm of moody me.
It makes me want to smack my own self out of it. And that...made me snort and laugh out loud.
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