Fondly, Martha

I keep rereading the glittery snowman card.  I can't help it.  It brings a smile to my face every time.  It means more to me than it should.  I wish things were different.  Everything.  I really do.  It's always times like these that I fall back on my old friend, The Serenity Prayer.  Yes, an odd friend for a girl like me.  I take away the God part.  The personification of the energy that is bigger than Us is what I don't believe in.  It is the Universe and it is Me and You.  It's all semantics.

I often have to tell my kids that the transitions are always the hardest.  You just have to take that tiny section and repeat it over and over until you get it right.  I, personally, am very inconsistent.  I rarely make the same mistake more than twice, but I constantly make mistakes.  There's consistency in that I suppose, I am never perfect.  And never get it quite right.

Thinking back, it's hard to figure out where I veered left.  I think landing my dream job at 23 years old was my downfall.  I went from working three jobs and 16 - 18 hour days to working 25 or so hours in a week for 9 months out of the year.  It was a cushy lifestyle for a long time.  Sleeping in as much as I want.  Doing whatever I want, whenever I want.  Taking nice long 2 or 3 month roadtrips without a care in the world.  It all makes the task of finding a new job all the more daunting.  Why give all this up? Well, there's a cockroach story, a mouse story, a drug dealer story, a squatter story, and of course, the leopard print duct tape that holds my car together on too frequent an occasion. 

Not so much a dream job after all I suppose.

Not any more at least.  All good things come to an end.

Transitions are always the hardest part.

Transitions when you doubt yourself in every possible way are painful too. 

Yesterday was the painful climax of my week.  One of those weeks where nothing big happened but a million little things just went the wrong way.  I didn't handle it very well either.  It happens from time to time.  I'm calmer now, not ready to take on the world again yet, but calmer. 

One step at a time.

It's 9pm on a Friday night.  I'm already in my jammies, occasionally getting teary into my cherry whiskey spiked green tea and I don't know what I want to do next.  I know what I'm good at, I know what I like, and I know the April 22nd deadline is quickly approaching.  My 'want' and 'need' haven't been this far apart in 13 years.  It's unsettling and exhausting.

My glittery snowman card is smiling at me.  His arms stretched out as if wanting to hug my dumb self.  I'm holding on to a little part of our conversation.  (Relax, I'm not having conversations with the card.  I had a lovely talk with its author just before Christmas.  I'm not THAT crazy).  There is a certain similarity to the way things have played out in our lives.  It boils down to faith (in myself) and luck. 

That gives me severe heartburn and anxiety. 

So, I bought a big bottle of Tums and a few bottles of wine and am wishing on the stars I can't see in the city.

Great plan for my future huh?! 

:)