Broken

Fella and I attended a wedding last weekend. It was quite the event- on the Hudson River in New York City, four course seated dinner, beautiful flowers... but what struck me was the ceremony.  The couple had written the entire ceremony themselves, and though I had never met either of them before that weekend, by the end of the night I felt I knew them well because they were able to incorporate so many personal elements.  One thing was quite remarkably clear-- these two were madly in love.  Madly in love, in that maybe I should write this down because I don't want to ever forget a single word that comes out of his brilliant mouth sort of way.  Can't keep our hands off each other sort of way.  The world stops when she walks through the door sort of way. Want to voice every thought and feeling we ever have sort of way.  It was lovely, and sweet, and really very moving.

I started thinking, naturally, about the wedding Fella and I will have. About our relationship.  And about how I feel like I am not capable of THAT kind of feeling.  I love Fella, I think he's a really good man. He makes me laugh, he's smart, and he's kind.  And I worry that he's getting the short end of the deal here.  I mean, he thinks I'm all that and a bag of chips, so he's pleased with this arrangement, don't get me wrong.  But am I depriving him of that kind of relationship?  His childhood friend just married a woman that looked at him like he hung the moon up in the sky just for her... But Fella gets a woman that looks at him with cautious optimism.  Because I'm broken.

I used to be that girl. I was wide open- honest and naked and completely and totally vulnerable. We all know that didn't turn out so well, and I think it's not unreasonable that I'm guarded.  But.

I honestly don't know if the wall will ever come all the way down. I'm not keeping it up on purpose, and I don't keep him a little bit at arm's length consciously, but... It is happening.  I'm protective of my soft places, and I'm a protective of my individual, separate life.   We've discussed this before.

When my phone beeps, if he picks it up and reads the text on the screen before handing me the phone I immediately feel a bit violated. Not because there is anything in that text that I don't want him to see, but it irks me that he would read it. It's not to him.  I have to remind myself that he just likes to know all about me, it's just his way, he's not trying to control anything. It's not like he's snooping, he's just infinitely curious and wants to know all about me and all the people in my life.  I'm not that way-- self-absorption or self-protection, I don't know, but either one, I'm not all that interested in other people.  I purposefully do not mention any little stories about a friend to him, because he will continue to ask about that friend and that situation forever. I tell myself it's protecting that friend's privacy, but sometimes it's really just because I don't like to share every corner of my life.


What if the wall never comes down? What if he's stuck battling my defense mechanism forever?  What if I'm irreparably broken?

Funny

So, as I stare down my imminent move (25 days to go) I was thinking about all the times I had moved since this blog started.  I moved to Colorado during a time I wasn't blogging much (*cough* marital disintegration *cough*), and I didn't much talk about it. Then I moved again when I found myself suddenly single in June 2008, and didn't blog about that either. I lived for a few months with a roommate, then moved to my own place in early November 2008.  Then in April 2009 I moved in with P.  Then in April 2010 I left Colorado and documented my cross-country move. And last September, I moved back home to Memphis. And now, I'm moving in with Fella.


Wow, blog tweeps.  We've been through a boatload together.  This is my seventh move since I started the blog. I'm too lazy to count the jobs I've taken, lost, and/or  left (okay, I counted. Nine. Nine jobs, since I started blogging).  I've adopted a new kitten (wow he was so tiny!), lost a dog, moved across the country, gotten divorced, started writing like three books (none finished, of course), moved back across the country,  stayed in a job a WHOLE YEAR, found someone new, and now I'm getting married...

Life is a funny thing, isn't it.



p.s. I bought a dress. A pretty one. A bride-y one. :)  I went to visit my mom and sister and we went shopping.  I'm certainly not putting a picture up here, but I wish I could. Because I LURRRVVVE it.

Crazy

Yesterday I was at the courthouse, getting a client divorced.

It's what I do. Often.  It doesn't take long, when it's uncontested, and all the details have already been ironed out.  It's a matter of a few questions and a Judge's signature. And his whole life is different.

One after another, one party would stand up, testify to how they lived in this county, wanted a divorce, believed their settlement was fair, and that was that. The other person doesn't even have to be there. It's such a short, easy process that is not remotely indicative of what is actually happening under the surface in most cases.

While I waited for my case to be called, I was just struck with the strongest feeling.  I do NOT want to ever be there again.  Of course, duh, nobody sits and thinks how she can't wait for her next divorce, but I had this gripping feeling in my chest, I really, REALLY do not want to ever have to go through that again.

At least I know I would survive, which I want to tell clients sometimes, but they don't really believe me.  Come at me with what you will, I know there is truly no shit in the world you can throw in my path that I can't climb over.  But sweet Lord I don't want to. 

If you have read here before, you know that my two divorces were not shockers.  I can site multiple examples of pre-wedding instances that should have caused me to run the other direction. I have not done so completely here, because it's mortifying and ridiculous and I'm ashamed of it. 

So I look at Fella with a critical eye. And despite the stomach churning I feel when I think of getting divorced again, I don't fear moving forward with him. The flags are green.  It's a good decision. When I approach it from an entirely non-romantic perspective it makes sense, which is a test neither of my previous marriages would pass. I spent last week in Mexico with P talking about it- Us both trying to figure out what's wrong with the idea, and not really coming up with anything, other than my bad decision-making in the past and the accelerated speed he and I have reached this level of discussion.

Yesterday after court I coincidentally had an appointment with my therapist and I told her how I was taken aback by the feeling that morning.  And how desperately I want to avoid that hurt. And how yet I still want to get married again.  And I asked her the question you're probably asking yourself about me right now. "Am I CRAZY?" 

And she said no.

And then she said, "well, you're crazy, but that's not why."

;)

Grown

If you read me in a feed reader, you may have noticed I posted some old entries about my drive from Colorado to North Carolina last summer.  I was reading them over again and I had a few thoughts:

1. Wow, that drive was long. And eventful.

2.  I'm hilarious.

3.  I am a completely different person than I was then.

It's been less than a year.10 months, give or take 10 days. And my life is completely and totally and vastly different. And not only have my circumstances changed, but I almost don't even recognize the person that I was.  I would not have believed it then, if someone had told me I'd be working in a job I actually like (and working a double caseload currently, thank you NOT so much, early arriving baby of coworker); living back home in Memphis; seriously dating a fella; not feeling unsettled or lost or conflicted or aimless.

It's awesome and at the same time it's weird to have changed so much in such a short period of time.

Also today I posted this one from last May about how hard it will be for me ever to love the way I used to love. The just surrender and be vulnerable.  This is my current challenge. I'm trying to be aware of my issues and the threat they may have to my relationship with Fella.  I don't want to be non-trusting, or too wary, or keep up a wall. I want to be cautious, but I don't want the fact that my ex was a colossal failure of a husband to ruin any chance any other man has. Especially this one.  Cause I like him. :)

Need

Reposting from July 2010 ...

There’s a song I used to like by Faith Hill and Tim McGraw called “I Need You.” The lyrics:

I Need You/ Like a Needle Needs a vein/ Like my Uncle Joe in Oklahoma needs the rain/Like a lighthouse on the coast/Like the Father and the Son need the Holy Ghost/ I need you…

I saw them perform it live, all up in each other’s mushy shmoopie faces. It was intimate and romantic and I felt like I shouldn’t be watching. And I loved the song because it seemed like what love and marriage were supposed to be.

I did love that way. And even more fiercely. Desperately. I gave everything I had. I loved despite all reason. I set aside my self-respect for it. And I kept at arm’s length anyone that might have intervened on my behalf. I put my entire soul into my misguided attempt to salvage a relationship so toxic that it nearly cost me my very self.
And now? I’m angry about that. I’m pissed that I didn’t stand up for myself. I’m pissed that I ignored red flags. I’m pissed that I let things get to the point they did. I think about it a lot. I remember scenes from my marriage like episodes of a TV show watched too many times, replaying the lines by heart. Wishing I said something different. Done something different. Thrown something heavy at his head… Not that things would have resulted in any outcome other than the one we have. Except I guess if I threw something heavy at his head I might find myself rooming with Lindsey Lohan. But I digress.

I used to be romantic, idealistic, just full of butterflies and rainbows and sparkles and unicorns. Now I’m cynical and angry and just a touch bitter. I scoff at the sweet romantic hopes of those around me. I still go out on dates because I haven’t completely given up, but I certainly have entirely different expectations.
I will never give myself away again. I’m not capable of it, I’m too well guarded now. I know that this is more healthy. There is nary a knight in shining armor in my imagination now, and that’s for the better. But I’m sad to know what I know. I’m sad that that girl’s prince never came. I’m sad that I learned what I learned the way that I learned it.
 
It’s not that I wish I didn’t know now what I didn’t know then… It’s just unfortunate that I had to learn what I learned the way that I learned it. I know I’m in a better place now. But I’m still pissed about how I got here.

Perfection

I'm reading Perfection by Julie Metz.

Metz had a picture-perfect life until her husband died suddenly.  Afterward, she learned he had cheated through much of their marriage.  I'm only a third of the way through this book, but it's already striking such a chord with me.

Her husband had Narcissistic Personality Disorder.  He had a constant need for attention.  "Do you still think I'm handsome?" he'd ask.  He sought other women to fulfill the requirement for admiration.  Entitled. Exploitative.  Non-empathetic. 

God, he's my ex-husband.

Never satisfied.  Feeling affront when his specialness goes unrecognized. Jealous of attention paid to pets or friends. Offended when not permitted his own way.  Hurt when taken to task for misdeeds.  Appalled by my lack of compassion when distressed after he fought with his mistress. Disappointed in my lack of forgiveness despite his telling "the truth." Unashamed of lie after lie told in service to his self-image.

It's so much easier to recognize in someone else's husband than it is your own.  Until you look back on it in amazement at your own blindness.

Difficult

The hard part in writing about my marriage and divorce is not sharing what my ex-husband did or how he treated me. The hard part is exposing my response. The fact that I continued to allow it. That I did not pack my bags and leave immediately. Or after a month or two. Or year. Or ever, really. I never did leave. I stayed.

Why?

I can't even begin to answer the question that is most often asked. When I finally began to share the truth with my friends and family, none could understand why I had stayed. Why I didn't demand more respect from him. Why I didn't stand up for myself.

I don't know the answer.

I have a few contributing factors to blame. This was my second marriage, and I didn't want to be twice divorced. I sure as all hell did not want to be twice divorced at 32, which is something I repeated over and over (I made it to 34). That had a bigger effect on me than some might guess-- I was really fearful of being that woman. Another, I suppose, was laziness. Damned if I wanted to go out there and have to find someone new. Loneliness, too. Especially after we moved out here to Colorado. At the time, I did have friends, but not really good ones. I was terrified that I would be completely alone. ALONE. Alone, alone, alone. I was like Jerry Maguire. Interestingly, this did not become a problem because when he left I found myself taken in by a new circle of friends that are my family now.

I have a pattern of staying with men that give me less than I desserve, mostly because I'd rather that than being alone. I think I've finally learned my lesson on that one. But we'll see.

Aftermath

This post is an entry in The Great Experiment. If you're so inclined, please visit The Girl Who to place your vote by leaving a comment there. You can vote til Saturday and you may vote ONCE per computer. Thanks!

Continued from this entry...

And there you are on your knees

Begging for forgiveness, begging for me

Just like I always wanted

But I'm so sorry...

I'm not a princess.

This ain't a fairy tale.

I'm gonna find someone someday

Who might actually treat me well...

--Taylor Swift, "White Horse"

So it was over.

After nineteen months of refusing to give up and walk away, he had done it for me. I had held on by the tips of my fingertips for so long... my immediate reaction was relief.

And then anger.

P, because she is a good friend, immediately took over. She took me to her apartment, dressed me up in a boob shirt, and took me to Aspen to shake my booty. We were hanging out with a bunch of guys from the golf club where we worked, and they, being caddies, were flush with the cash heaped upon them by rich golfers. We drank, we danced...

And then there was the desperation.

What was I doing? I don't know how to do this! I snuck away to find a quiet corner to call my husband. He, of course, was at her house. But he wasn't sure he had done the right thing. He wanted to come home.

"Come get me," I said. "We'll talk about it."

But no. He was mad at me for being out (and not sitting at home, crying and waiting, I suppose). And something in that attitude finally (FINALLY!) flipped a switch in my brain. And I realized... that I most certainly DO know how to do this.

And I did. I knew how to dance, and flirt, and accept drinks from cute guys. I also apparently remembered how to make out in a back seat. And the front seat. Of my husband's truck (note to ex-husband if he's reading: I actually had sex in your truck four times before I gave it back to you. You're welcome for that piece of information).

A week later, he came to the house that had been ours to help me complete my move out. He had on his sad face. He boxed and cleaned and looked at me with hangdog eyes. He begged. He said he was wrong. He wanted me back. There was nothing he wouldn't do to get me back. I should give him another chance. I started to feel bad. I wasn't giving in, but I did feel sorry for him.

And then, while taking a load to the car, I saw her. Sitting in the truck. Waiting for him. He had brought her along, and she was outside waiting for him while he groveled for forgiveness.

I laughed. Out loud. He was unbelievable.

But there were more conversations. He continued asking for more chances. He left presents, one a week, on my doorstep (which creeped out my roommate to no end). He called. We met for lunch and he cried. He made promises. And when I told him I'd consider it if he'd 1) move out of her house (hello!) and 2) get counseling, I knew that neither would happen.

And it didn't.

Beginning

My memory is cruel

I'm queen of attention to details

Defending intentions if he fails

Until now, he told me her name

It sounded familiar in a way

I could have sworn I'd heard him say it ten thousand times

If only I had been listening

-Sara Bareilles, "Between the Lines"

It all started with a text message.

It was October. I was standing next to him while he was looking at his phone, and saw a text that said "I miss you." I wasn't snooping- had no reason to. Just happened to be there. I asked him about it, and he said some of the women he worked with were out that night, and they were just messing with him. What a horrible cover. Anyway, I took that story for the truth for the moment, but the hairs on the back of neck sure didn't believe it. They were standing at attention from that moment forward.

Things weren't even weird between us at the time. Everything seemed perfectly normal to me. We were still sleeping in the same bed (and would be, throughout the forthcoming year-and-a-half long debacle, until just before it was over). We were still laughing and cuddling and talking. I had no reason to suspect otherwise, or to doubt his lie. But those hairs on the back of my neck? They were smarter than I.

The next few weeks passed without incident, relationship-wise. I lost my job, he was very supportive and sweet about it. You can read about those fun times in my posts from November 2006. But then.

It was a Sunday afternoon, and he went for a run. This was entirely normal, we lived across the street from a major Memphis park and he ran there almost every day. I would later learn that a lot more than running was going down in Overton Park, but whatever. Anyway. That day, he was gone for a really long time. He didn't have his phone with him, and I was worried that he had gotten hurt on a trail inside the park and couldn't call for help.

Well, that's what I say I was thinking. And that's what I was consciously thinking. But those hairs on the back of my neck? They were thinking something else.

And something else is exactly what I found when I went to the park to look for him, and saw him kiss her goodbye.

I immediately knew who the woman was. When he had started his job three months before, he told me about the people he worked with, and one woman who told him a story about how she fooled around with a girl once. Come on. I told him that day, there's only one reason a straight woman tells a straight man a story like that. Whether it's true or not, the telling of that story has one purpose and one purpose alone. I told him to be careful with her. He said they were just friends, she was married. He had told her about my blog, she thought I was funny. Her friends read it too. I knew exactly who she was even though I'd never seen her before. And I was right.

He said he had ended it, that's why he was at the park. He said they had only kissed. He said it was over. He said he wouldn't see her again (except every day at work, where he was her boss, of course). Every bit of it? A lie.

And that was only the beginning.

Catharsis

Thank you to everyone for your kind words and votes on my previous entry. Based on the response, as well as the way I felt after writing it, I'm considering writing a series of posts to finish the story. Well, really, to start it, since that was the end.

Of course, I'll have to come up with an appropriate title... Crystal has The Crazy Chronicles, Pioneer Woman has Black Heels to Tractor Wheels, The Girl Who has Mormon to Married in Manhattan...

Although the title of this blog itself kinda covers it...

Ending

And I don't know,
This could break my heart or save me.
Nothing's real
until you let go completely...

And I don't know,
I could crash and burn, but maybe
At the end of this road
I might catch a glimpse of me...

Kelly Clarkson, "Sober"

I'm pulling out of the driveway on a Saturday morning, on my way to work, when my husband sticks his head out of the front door. He hollers for me to take his truck to work that day, as he wants to take mine to get a much-needed oil change. That's nice of him, I think. Considering.

For the past few days we have been trying to work out a time to Talk. I was unexpectedly called into work last night and we'd had to reschedule for tonight. I dread it. Our "talks" to date have been less than satisfying, always ending when neither of us can pull the trigger and say it's over. It's been a year and a half of aruging about it... and then pretending everything would be fine, him telling me he'd end it with her, me pretending to believe him. Our marriage has been a disaster, but something-- fear, insecurity, inertia-- has kept me in it. I don't know why he hasn't left yet, but he's always only said he wants to be with me. He's never once said he wants to leave me. Never once said he wants to be with her. Why should he, really. He's having his cake and eating her too.

Ahem.

After my shift ends I'm heading back home. Tired. Nervous. Wondering if I, if either of us, will have the guts to say what we both know needs to be said. We've run this thing, this marriage, into the ground and there's no saving it now. It's too late to quit while we're ahead, but at least we can quit while we're still breathing. At the same time... I don't know how to end it. Not only do I not know how to tell him it's over, I don't know how to tell my family and friends that I've been lying to them for so long every time I didn't say how things really were. I especially don't know how to walk away after I've put up with so much for so long... I feel it's like staying in a fight til the tenth round only to give up.

When I round the corner and the house is in sight, I see that my truck is not in the driveway. "Bastard." I mumble. "He's at the gym or something." Or more likely, he's with her... either way, it's not the plan.

I push my way through the door to the greetings of the dog. But something is weird. Something is off. Something is definitely not right.

I immediately notice the absence of the painting that faces the front door. I glance to my right and two chairs and a small table are missing. As I look around, I realize that at least half of our belongings are gone. In the time it took me to work one eight-hour shift, he has packed half of our house AND moved it out without a trace.

I look, but I don't find a note.

Seriously? SERIOUSLY?! No Talk. Nothing. No fight. No yelling, screaming, cussing. Just emptiness.

I wander around the house, noticing which things he's taken. I leave him a voice mail (he doesn't answer his phone, the chicken shit) listing the things that he needs to return. The Christmas movies and Grey's Anatomy DVDs. My Pampered Chef cookware I owned before our marriage. The dressing table my step-father built for me. Anything else I think I have to right to bitch about (it's only later, at bedtime, I realize he has taken the only tube of toothpaste).

Few tears come. Mostly I feel incredible relief. The long charade is over. The lies can stop. The fear I had that I wouldn't be strong enough to walk away is eased; he has saved me the trouble.

I kiss the dog and get back into his truck (which has significantly higher payments and will later be traded back for my own when he is feeling guilty) and drive back to the club where I work. I walk in the door to the surprise of my friend who has the evening shift.

"Why are you back?" she asks.

And that is the first time I say it. The first time I acknowledge it the words that have been floating close to the surface since I walked in my front door. The first time I put out there in reality the true factual state of my marriage. Most importantly, it's the first time I realize that I am grateful for the truth of the words.

"My husband. He left me."


[This post is an entry in a contest... Meander over here for details and to vote! Only one vote per IP address, please and thank you.]

Wow

So a few days ago I had a thought. I was thinking about where I am in my life, where I've been, where I'm going, blah blah blah. And I realized. Three short years ago, I was working as an attorney. I owned my house. And I was married to a man I thought was good and true (all that came crashing down on November 12, 2006; so I still had two days of ignorance). I never would have guessed that all three things would be gone now.

I also would never have guessed it would be the house I missed the most.

edited to add: I was technically unemployed three years ago today (by a few days), but did find a job lawyering, so technically I still considered myself an attorney. To clarify.

Decade

I've written a little about my lack of interest in dating lately, but I realized today that I have not been single in over ten years. I understand that is not a long time necessarily, but for me it just feels... like eternity. When I was last single, I was 24 years old. Just graduated college, starting law school. Not really an adult (am I now?). It's no wonder I don't know who the hell I am. It's interesting for me, given my recent realization that for the first time EVER (seriously, ever) I'm not looking for a boyfriend. It's not that I made a conscious decision to not date anyone, I just came to the realization that I don't want to. This is seriously a major milestone for me, and that may sound silly.

I'm not that girl that always had a boyfriend, at all. But I was that girl that always WANTED a boyfriend. I can't remember a time that I wasn't daydreaming about a guy. A specific guy, a famous guy, an imaginary guy that I just knew I would meet soon, there had to be a guy. Lately, I can't even imagine having a boyfriend. I'm not thinking about anyone. I'm not imagining meeting someone. I'm not daydreaming about finding someone.

It's WEIRD. And it's GREAT. I feel more powerful than ever, because for once I have the power-- I'm not handing it over to any man that comes along. I also feel more attractive than ever, because instead of thinking about getting a guy to notice me, I'm realizing that they do. It is so liberating to not worry about whether I'm going to get a date. Who cares? Not me. Not anymore.

I know I'll change my mind on this. One day I'll meet somebody that will make me reconsider my "no relationship" position. Or I'll realize one day that I am in fact ready, just as I have now realized I'm not. And that will be a good day too. But for now, only needing myself, my friends, and my family, I feel so much stronger and healthier and happier than I ever have.

Divorce can be a good thing when it allows you to realize that you're not defined by someone else. Especially when the someone else is a lying, cheating, narcissistic asshole.

Did I say that out loud? ;)

Interesting Inspiration

So. This morning I read this post on one of my favorite blogs, Boobs, Injuries, and Dr. Pepper.

And it made me wonder. Not that my situation and Crystal's are the same, they are quite different... but it was similar enough to make me think... Back when my life was a ruckus... when my (now ex) husband was having an affair... should I have posted about it?

I'll tell you why I didn't... My mother and sister read my blog, and I didn't want them to know what was going on (I didn't want them to hate him, in case he and I worked it out). Also, I knew that my husband's girlfriend and her friends read this blog, and I didn't want to feed them any information. About my marriage, my life, my self. I got a few mean nasty comments from them on unrelated posts, so I figured that anything I wrote about the affair wouldn't have been taken well. And the last thing I needed at the time was to be attacked. I found myself writing posts with the intent of showing that they weren't getting to me. That's why I started a "secret" blog at one point... to try to maintain my ability to truthfully blog. But along the way I lost the love of blogging... it had just become tainted.

Later I wished I had told the truth... maybe if the girlfriend and I had shared information, even if only by her reading my blog, he would have gotten away with less bullshit along the way. Maybe not, but maybe I would have felt more like a strong woman instead of an emotionally abused victim.

By the way... VERY few people knew what was happening with me. I did not tell my family, or even my VERY BEST FRIEND (who was also getting "weird" comments and had no idea why). So the only people that really knew were HER friends. I told a few people on an message board I visited every day, and one work friend, and it probably saved my sanity. Now, of course, everybody knows. Many people are still flummoxed about why I stayed so long, why I put up with so much. And I don't have a good answer for that. Or much of an answer at all.

I'm not going to get into details about it now. It's all past... She and I have forged a relationship of a sort. She has apologized to me, and I told her that what happened wasn't okay, would never be okay, but I accepted her apology. But I did want to talk about what I was feeling TODAY. I'm going to try to get back into that habit. Blogging was so much fun, and I want it to be again.

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

Max is back with me! My ex emailed me and said I could have Max back if I wanted. Yes, I wanted!!! He is the sweetest boy ever and I'm so glad to have him home with me. He is getting along famously with Jaida, and the kitties are not bothered at all by his presence. Our home is a little more crowded now (2 girls, 2 dogs, 2 kitties and a fish), but everyone is happy, especially me.

Hi

Hi there blogosphere. Long time no post.

I have reasons, really, I do. I spend my whole day on Facebook, and there's simply no time blogging. That's my excuse. Not a good one. And really, Facebook is a time sucker, but certainly not the release that blogging can be. Honestly, though, I lost that love for the blog a while back... If you remember the early days of this blog, I was a bloggin fool. I loved, loved, LOVED to blog. But then, things in my personal life went... awry. My husband's mistress read this blog. Her friends, too. It kinda was a blogging buzzkill, as you might imagine. So I started a "secret" blog. Which turned out to not be so secret. And thus, my freedom in blogging was lost. I had no joy in it anymore.

So maybe I'll give it another shot... But the main thing today is that I miss my blogging friends! Some of them I see on Twitter and Facebook, which is nice. But I miss finding new peeps, having new peeps find me, and spending hour after hour blog surfing. So therefore I (attempt) to make my return.

So what's up with me? I'm still working at the golf club, but it's not so great anymore. In October, all my friends that worked the golf course left for (literally) greener pastures-- their winter courses in Florida, Arizona, South Carolina... A few weeks later? The rest of my friends were laid off. Seems the economy does affect the rich folks who are our members. So I was left here at the Club for the (very) boring winter season without my buddies. We all still lived near each other, thank God, so we still hung out in our non-working hours, but the job itself lost its appeal. Also, boring is not even a strong enough word. It's true, I have previously wished for a job that would pay me to sit and surf the internet all day. Well, I got it, people. And it bored me to tears. Mostly. It also made me resent even doing a little tiny bit of work. But this job saved me, and I will always be grateful. This job gave me a place to live when I found myself single and without housing. This job gave me incredible friends that will be by my side for the rest of my life. And this job gave me joy in living every day in one of the most beautiful places in the world (This job also gave me a lot of shit and crap and annoyances with very wealthy people and some not-so-great moments, but we're not talking about that right now). But.

This job is ending. I had found another job and was ready to resign when another round of layoffs came and I found myself on the receiving end. Which actually worked out for me because now I get the benefits of a lay off when I intended to quit anyway. Sorta sweet. So I have, from today, fifteen days left until my last day at this job.

Five of which will be spent in Aruba on vacation.

So I'm pretty excited. I'm also FINALLY having bone-shortening surgery on my right arm that will relieve the pain I've had for nearly five years. Then I have two weeks to recover before starting my new job, which is a return to the legal trenches... I'm looking forward to it.

I'm... not packing

I begged off of Halloween revelry in Aspen tonight, because I'm moving tomorrow and haven't really packed... anything. So... I'm packing, right? I'm filling boxes with all my worldly belongings, getting rid of things I don't need or use, and otherwise preparing myself for this. Right?

Notsomuch.

Last time I moved (at the end of June), I was packing at the last minute, in a hurry, and so everything got packed. Everything got thrown in a box and brought to my apartment or put in storage. EVERYTHING. So there's tons of crap in there that needs to be culled. It's a time in my life where I need to purge, move on, and start fresh. And yet, am I doing that right now?

Notsomuch.

But I am looking forward to getting into my new place. The place I'm in now is furnished, so I will be reunited with my furniture tomorrow, and the place will feel more like my own. Also, it's a one bedroom and I won't have to worry about ending up with an unsavory roommate like I had over the summer (that is another story for another post). So it'll feel more real and permanent instead of just an employee housing unit. And it has lots of good windows for making kitty cats very very happy. :)

On another note... I went the other day to be trained to be a poll watcher on Election Day. All that talk about protecting the right to vote, helping people, etc stirred up a little teensy bit of interest in returning to the practice of law. Also stirring up that same thought? My empty bank account. ;)

So that's what is up with me. Tomorrow I will be in (another) new spot, starting a new chapter in my life. Doors are closing, so I just have to look for the opening windows...

So Much For That

I really intended to blog regularly. But I see it's been 10 days...

I guess I'll answer some questions that were asked about my entry before last...

Nope, no golf in the winter. ;) The course will be covered in feet of snow, so the Members can cross country ski or snowshoe on it. The Club gets very slow in the winter, except at the holidays. We are not right on a mountain, so we don't get a huge ski crowd. The summers here are CRAZEE because we do a lot of golf and fly fishing. I'm looking forward to the winter, though, it'll be a nice long break.

And yes, Neila, you bad girl, I have seen two celebrities, but neither would I want to "get happy with" for one night... ;)

And I do have both kitties with me, but not Max. I miss him a lot, but I wanted him to be happy, and I thought his living situation would be better where he is than if he came with me. But every day I very much miss his sweet face. I thought that I would be able to get some time with him on occasion, but that doesn't seem to be agreeable. :(

So Much To Say

Cue Dave Matthews Band, cause I do have so much to say. The life I am living today is almost unrecognizable compared to the last time I posted. I'm not going to get into ALL of it (yet), but I have been absent for so long I have been missing this blog, my blog peeps, and the catharsis of writing every day. So I thought I'd update you a little on what's going on in at least one area of my life: my job.

I'm not practicing law anymore. I left my law firm in May (for a variety of reasons, which I'm not going to get into here), and took a job at a private golf club/resort as Lead Concierge/Hospitality Manager. And you won't effing believe it, but....

I LOVE IT.

Believe me when I tell you that no one is more surprised than me! I thought I didn't like people! I thought I didn't like being friendly! I didn't think I'd be particularly good at it, that's for sure. But you learn something new every day. And I am in love with this place. It's not perfect, no place really is, but from the very beginning I have felt at home here, the kind of "home" and belonging feelings I haven't felt since I walked the campus of University of Memphis. I have moved into an apartment on the property, and every day when I head up to the lodge where I work, I look at the incredible landscape and think to myself how lucky I am to live and work here. It's something of which I don't tire at all, and it makes me feel happy and grateful and blessed.

Just to briefly address some other aspects of my life (or really, one major aspect), to head off questions my regular readers (are you still out there?) will have, though most of you know the answers: I live alone in my apartment, and will be re-naming this blog. That should be enough information for now on the state of things in my personal life. If you have blog name suggestions, let me know. I could just put a "NOT" at the end of the title. Or an "UN" in front of "married." I hate to give up my URL. ;)