Category Archives: Moving forward

Goodbye 2017. Let us never speak of it again.

Goodbye 2017. Let us never speak of it again.

Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see a year end as this one. Maybe I say that every year; I don’t know. But 2018 HAS to be better than ’17.

It started off well enough … mini-vay-kay in January at Reed Ranch with all the family; I so enjoyed that. Met a very nice, very fun but rather self-absorbed man who I pretty much knew immediately wasn’t going to be forever, but what a sweet-talker – and he loved to dance! Made for a very fun birthday. Hibernian party in Michigan in March. Not a bad spring. Work was going okay; I got a new boss that I rarely saw, and I got a raise.

Then … karma? Bad ju-ju? I don’t really know. June came, and everything fell apart. The man thing fizzled as fast as I could say the “M” word in response to a question that had absolutely nothing to do with him. Heart-hurt and confused, I tried looking forward but with too much hope and too little confidence. Ann, my cohort, left Kindred, work became more stressful. Met a few nice guys but no spark anywhere. I did buy my own condo, and I got to see my kids in August.  And then hurricanes, condo repairs, floor floods, identity theft, unexpected slights by former friends, an overly-stress-filled job, my Anita moving away; meets and break-ups faster than a speeding Bonanza causing me to again question myself, my appeal, my worth.

I just want it over. I know there’s no guarantee that 2018 will be any better than ’17. I realize that. I understand it’s what we make it and even more what’s in my head. I know all that intellectually. I do.

But 2018 holds at least some promise:  A new floor!  Ireland in March!  A healthier, more active me. And Meg is closer, though only through February.

I actually have no idea why I think 2018 will be better. It certainly starts off with a bang, at least through March, but then … but then?

It’s funny (not?), but part of me so wants a relationship with someone who will love me for me and want to share in my life. Another part of me wants my independence, my quiet, my space. Where is the balance? What is it? People do it all the time, but can I? I used to see myself either in a long-term relationship or even married again; I thought that’s what I wanted. But that was in the long run. When does the long run begin? I was presented with the possibility just recently in a ‘too-good-to-be-true’ scenario. I was offered the world and more, but I’d have to leave mine. Part of me wanted to pick up and go. Just go. But another part of me…the deep-down part of me said, ‘Wait a minute.’  While it all sounded good in theory, I just didn’t know about giving up everything I’d worked so hard for these past years.

I wonder, to get what I think I want, do I have to leave this … my life … and go to ‘his,’ whoever he turns out to be? I’m not sure I want to do that just yet, if at all.

Time flies…maybe too fast.

Time flies…maybe too fast.

October 23rd.  I’ve been in my condo a little over a year now. How well I remember a year ago leaving my cute little house and a very dysfunctional relationship to start a new chapter in my life; it’s been an interesting year, for sure.

Muhly GrassFall ushers in the best time of the year in Old Florida. The temperatures are cooler, I can have all the sliding doors open, turn off the a/c, maybe catch the sunrise at a more decent hour. Though I’ll miss the vibrant green kudzu vines of summer, I love when the beautiful rows of muhly grass turn a vibrant shade of pink and wave in unison in the breeze. The beaches empty, the RVs caravan south, and the area preps for an increase in its population.

A lot happened this past year.  I was able to spend three precious months with my mother, months I would not trade for anything.  I saw two fabulous concerts; Bruce Springsteen with Drew, and Rascal Flatts with Meg; unforgettable, both. I shared the tragic loss of a nephew to suicide and, in the circle of life, met my beautiful new granddaughter Audrey. I discovered the joy of ballroom dancing and as an added benefit met some wonderful people.  I lost my Sadie this past Labor Day that brought an additional heartbreak with it.  My job has had its share of unmentionable challenges with the ups and downs and office drama that only a large corporation can offer.  I tried online dating and met some lovely men and a few not-so-lovely ones, made a great friend, and am more hopeful than I’ve been in awhile. I survived Hurricane Matthew, and in doing so learned there are many angels walking around here on earth.

I can only imagine what’s ahead. I’m looking forward to a quick but much-needed cruise with Meg next month. I’ve started working virtually for a transcription company in the hopes of having an exit strategy when the time comes to leave Hospice. I’m eager to spend time with my mom and siblings at Reed Ranch in January, see my Oklahoma kids and grandkids again. Next spring will bring another opportunity to go to Michigan, hopefully with Meg, and see Audrey and her parents.

It has been a surprisingly good year; I have no complaints. I’m grateful for my many blessings; I’m excited about the future. I know we can’t stop time, but perhaps we can slow down a little now.

My “Condo de Sásamh”

My “Condo de Sásamh”

The last time I lived alone was in 1975, thanks to my friend Carol who was in charge of the resident apartments at college during the summer of that same year. And I loved it. I was never lonely, never bored. It didn’t hurt that a bunch of my guy friends lived upstairs just in case I got worried about some weird noise. I could always bang on the ceiling for help (unless, of course, the weird noise was coming from them).

Now, 40 years later, here I am, living alone and loving it.  I never get lonely, and I never get bored. I have to wonder if it’s because I grew up in such a large family where there was no such thing as privacy, much less being alone in the house (save for the one time two car loads left for church, each assuming I was in the other car; but that didn’t last long enough). Perhaps had I been an only child or in a much smaller family being alone might not seem so appealing.Erin-book-review-1111

I remember having horses when I was young.  And just to find somewhere quiet to read, I would go to the stable, climb on Clancy backward, lay on my tummy resting my book on his butt, and read to my heart’s content listening to him munch on hay while slowly moving around his stall. It is one of my most perfect memories.

I sort of feel like that now. I feel content.

And I look forward to sharing my little “condo of contentment” with whomever would like to visit.