Creating Home

 I've been giving a lot of thought to this new life I'm living. One where I live alone with my cat in a studio apartment. I thought this would be harder than it is. Don't get me wrong, there have been evenings of extraordinary loneliness. And nights when I could swear I heard my door opening (typically after reading or watching some murdery content.) But when I unlock my door and step into this space, filled with my treasures, the colors I love, surrounded by things I've made - I just feel content.  Walking back into this space after leaving to run errands or walk outside to smoke a cigarette, it strikes me that the smells are all scents I've created. The smell of bread baking in the oven or a meal I've cooked. And I've cooked so much more since moving in here. I don't have to ask any opinions on ingredients or spices. I just make what I want to eat. And then typically live on it for a few days. If it's food I love I have zero qualms eating it for a

2023 Musings

 My mind is swirling with words again. So much has happened in the last few months that I often wonder if I have time to breathe. November 15 I said out loud I wanted a divorce. I applied for an apartment the same day. I moved out on December 10. Since then my life has been filled with changes and decisions. My job has kept me plenty busy as well.  I've always liked being alone. It's the way I have been able to feel energized again. I love people, but I love them the most when I get time away. And this is the first time in my entire life I have ever lived alone.  It's been an interesting journey so far. There have been nights of loneliness. Moments where the silence was too loud and I wanted to drown it with the sounds of others. Random musings, the sound of drawers being opened and closed. Sighs. Footsteps. And I realized I craved those sounds only because I was uncomfortable and wanted to be able to blame my bad mood on someone else. That night I leaned into the lonely. I

A Red Gown

  I haven’t wanted to write in months. I’m not sure I want to now, but I need to do so.   I want to buy a fancy, red, lacy gown. I want to pay someone to make my face and my hair sexy and take photographs that will suddenly allow me to embrace this body.  I walked a 5k today. I’ve closed all of the rings on my watch since Monday. I stopped exercising for 6 months. Gave up on eating well. I gained all of my weight back plus and extra 10 lbs.  So I work out again. Try to make better meal choices. Push my body to do more, faster. Daily weigh ins for 6 days. Such small, incremental changes.  I want to rush this as much I want to rush everything. A list and a task that can be crossed off. A hit of dopamine. Did you know you get a hit of dopamine every time you achieve a goal? That’s what I’ve been told. It’s addicting. A drug that exists inside your own body free for the taking.  I took a nap today and woke up in tears. I was dreaming of my mom. Hugging my mom and awoke drowning in saltwate

It's that Time Again

 We've hit that time of year again. I survived the second anniversary of Mom's death. And now my Facebook memories are starting with the constant updates of Dad's progression through the hospital. From now until July I will be reminded on a continual basis of That Time. I could just not look at the reminders, but I won't. It's like poking a bruise. You know it will ache, that the poke will make the throbbing more intense, yet you can't seem to stop pestering it. Just to make sure it's still real. It isn't just discoloration - the hurt goes deeper than the surface. You have to be sure it causes pain. Looking back now will still bring me to tears. I still miss mom every day. The hole she left behind isn't so jagged any more. Maybe all of those tears smoothed away the worst of the sharpness and made it easier to bear. Or maybe just living each day one after another forces you to accept the changes.  I went back and read some of my writing from the early

Snowy Days

 There are words swirling in my head. Twisting and twirling Drifting like the snowflakes On the gusts outside. There is a sense of melancholy  Wrapped in anticipation. Pictures forming of what might have been What could have been Maybe even what should have been. Fully formed for mere moments Then eroded  The footsteps through the snow. I look at my reflection and I see I see what they see. Just enough of you to wonder. To remember and to wish Memories that will flash and be captured A perfectly formed snowflake  Caught on a sleeve Melting into a drop of water. Almost recognized, almost seen Becoming some other thing. Smiles, hugs Laughter. The day after. Unable to hold on to those snapshots of yesterday. I miss you the most on days after When the wind blows When others look at me And look for you. An ache of what we all lost. That we had to give you back too soon.

Tis the Season

 Y'all I am NOT in the Christmas spirit. I am cranky. Yesterday was a gloriously beautiful day. My perfect kind of day. Sunny but not eye searing sunny. Breezy and chilly. The kind of day that lets you mix sneakers and wool accessories and be comfortable. But I was at work so I worked. Then came home and did what felt like a zillion household chores. I had made a to do list on my lunch break. And it made me more than a little cranky. I've been asked what I want for Christmas. What do I want for Christmas? I want a maid. I want to come home and my dishes to magically already be clean. I want laundry to not be sitting in the dryer or in baskets in the laundry room. I want the clutter to already be organized and put away. I want space for bookshelves. I want to not have decision fatigue and it rear its ugly head when I'm asked yet again what the plan is for dinners this week.  Adulting is hard. And yet I'm beyond lucky to have a roof over my head and a job to go to every d


 My primary coping mechanism is Compartmentalizing. My conscious mind is full of neat little shapes that fit the areas of my life. Family occupies their shape, friends have theirs, work has another, the books I read have their own area, my crafts another, emotions that belong solely to me have another that is somewhere in the middle. There are other areas I'm probably forgetting. The borders are not thick and impenetrable. There are air holes allowing some crossover. If I picture what this would look like to an outsider it's somewhere between a Zentangle and a Tetris board.  During my normal day to day life, I jump back and forth between these areas, problem solving and feeling and planning. But if I have to focus on one or the other I tend to do my best to shove the other areas back in their predetermined spaces so I deal with the area in front of my face. If I need to work through a problem, I like to do mindless tasks so my brain can untangle problems. I knit or clean or org