This morning I stepped on to my new scale, naked and with an empty bladder and the result was 252 exactly. So, now I know what I’m up against and it’s the official number I will start with.

Right now, the main thing I am trying to do is a.) not gain, and b.) add healthy food to my diet. For now I’m going to weigh daily — if I don’t do that on the day that I skip it, I’ll throw it all alway and not step on that scale again. I know myself pretty well.

I came straight home from work today. I don’t always do that because I often stop at my parent’s house to eat with them or just hang out for a bit. Coming straight home is nice. I am still not quite used to the feeling that this place is all mine. I even like its messes. I have all the windows open now to air out the place. Today I walked in and said, “Honey, I’m home” to no one.

I’ve considered a pet. I’d really like a dog. But I’m just not sure I can afford one. Also being gone for nine+ hours a day isn’t fair to a dog. I like cats, but they’ve damaged my homes in the past so I’m probably not going to go that route.

I didn’t move into my house until after Christmas. It was a very long search for a home that I could afford and could imagine living in. I’m still not sure I can afford it, to be honest. And I don’t have window coverings on two windows still. I’ve got a little bit of savings, but I’m afraid to let it go too low. I’ve got no one to rely on if I have an emergency. Plumbing or a roof issue, for example. Oh, I’m a two minute drive to my parent’s house and a 9 minute drive to work, which I also love.

As a natural born worrier I could spend a lot of time worrying about the what if’s, but to be honest I enjoy being here so much that I don’t fret about it too long. This place is mine — it’s not his. Very little of what I own now reminds me of him.

When I began to unpack all of my belongings after 3+ years in storage I found myself cursing the ex because he packed all the boxes for me — he would not let me back into our apartment since it was already his love nest. I had to trust he’d give me things I’ve had long, long before I ever met him. I have found that two kitchen knives I’ve had for 15 years never made it to me, and the toolbox he packed for me was nearly empty. That made me pissed because my dad had given me a lot of what was in there. The list is long, and that’s only the stuff I can remember.

I was feeling super pissed about all the stuff I now knew was missing. Eventually I had to remind myself that I wouldn’t want that stuff now that it’s been part of their household for so long. One of the last emails I sent to him was expressing my anger about what I was missing. He wrote back asking me another question, not addressing my concern. I never responded to him again. Fuck them both. I’ve since blocked his phone number so that he can’t message or call me.

My heart is broken again today. As a lover of all things British I saw late last night how a 24 story apartment building in West London with over 300 residents was consumed by flames within fifteen minutes. Women were throwing their babies out the windows. The fire started on the lower floors. The people in upper floors couldn’t get out. People on the grass below heard their screams. Of course it is because it was a low income building. No one cared that it wasn’t a safe building. They have no idea how many are dead, but it will be a lot. Why, God? Why?

Londoners came out to help house and feed the survivors. Londoners are great at that. But this is so horrifying — I simply can’t imagine experiencing that. What good are “thoughts and prayers” anyway?




One Year Later

So, so much has happened. But here’s the remarkable part. Only today did I feel like I might dust off this blog and post a little here and there and when I went to see what was left of it, it had been exactly a year to the day since I’d last posted.

I find coincidences like that to be proof of something although I’m not sure what exactly. But for now I’ll call it proof that I should begin to blog a little since I’m preparing to improve myself.

In the last year what has happened? Here are some basics. a.) I bought a home of my own, b.) I’m continuing to gain weight, and c.) I’m pretty much no contact with the ex. and feel he doesn’t deserve much space here so will try to limit myself — after all, we have been apart for 3.5 years now which is about half of our marriage! He’s been with his young girlfriend for all that time, and I am pretty sure they’ve moved two hours away, at least that’s what I’m really hoping.

There are two main things I’d like to accomplish by beginning to write again, 1.) I really want to get healthier and that includes losing weight and exercising, and 2.) I have a very tight budget in which to live on and could use inspiration there.

Okay I reluctantly will add a third: In the midst of Trumpland I am very dismayed by my fellow Christians and have been in a quandary about how to reconcile that right wing Christians don’t seem to care about their fellow man at all. Not even a little. Not only that, but they are mean and horrible. I saw a video of a man at an airport screaming at a man who had been talking to his mother in Spanish because that is the language she converses in the easiest. The racist said the most horrific things and all I could focus on was the gold cross on a chain around his neck and I felt such shame. Shame and confusion. I truly believe that such things would sadden God as well.

I am a liberal. If you’re new to this blog, please know that and if you don’t like it, block me now — I have no time for you. I mean it.

I am struggling with God as well. I haven’t been to church in nearly two months, which makes me sad, and I need to take someone aside and ask them if God exists, why does he/she let so many terrible things happen? There must be some quaint response to that, right? I probably should just Google it.

I don’t feel I have anything to offer anyone and wouldn’t recommend anyone read my blog for insight. I write for mostly selfish reasons — to help me see what I can’t see so that I can cope better in the world.

I bought a scale today. I’ve never owned one before. I can’t be bothered to look back on this blog to find it, but I believe I weigh about nine pounds (or is it 19lbs?) less than my maximum weight when the shit hit the fan and my ex-husband cheated on me and abandoned me.

I really thought owning a home would keep me so busy that I wouldn’t have time to eat but that’s not the case. Well, it could have me that busy, I’m just not letting it. I thought I’d be gardening for hours each week and, while I do garden, it’s pretty minimal. I moved here in the dead of winter and it was a cold winter. I spent my time figuring out how to pay the least for cable and getting used to not being frightened to be on my own after living with my elderly parents for over three years.

Speaking of elderly, I will be 60 years old in about ten days. I have a big mortgage which I probably won’t come close to paying off, so I must take better care of my health so that I can work and pay my bills for as long as possible.

I don’t feel old and I’m pretty sure most people would be surprised to hear I’m almost 60. But I probably only look a few years younger since I have almost no gray hair. My mother, who will be 81 has only about half a head of gray hair. I used to dye my hair blonde but then began to feel it was aging me, plus my hair wasn’t very healthily looking. I thought I had more gray and decided to stop dying it so I could embrace it, but turns out there’s not much there.

I also stopped wearing any makeup this last year. I felt it was also aging me and I thought that I’d end up being one of those women who draw their eyebrows on unevenly and so I decided to just go natural. I’m still getting used to it, but my gosh it makes getting out the door easy, plus it saves a lot of money. It’s also nice not to have makeup ruin a white blouse, etc.

So yeah, the PTSD of my entire life eats at me and makes me eat and eat and eat. That’s all due to ACES (Adverse Childhood Experiences) and I could continue to eat myself to death or I could try to figure some of these feelings out. We’ll see. This has been a lifetime struggle.

Tonight I unwrapped my new scale and stood on it w/ clothes on and it showed 254. I feel fairly confident that the fattest I’ve ever been before was 270 ish so I haven’t quite gained it all back, but may as well have. I’m sure the young people I work with are more than a little horrified by how fast I have gained weight in the last couple of years. I am not very vain but I do feel shame in how I’m forced to dress to accommodate this weight. I also don’t like that my bum can barely fit in my office chair now.

I suppose I deserve this because in the midst of my 70 pound weight loss I was so smug. I said things like, “People can lose weight, they just choose not to.” Ouch. What an asshole.

I have been eating a little bit better the last week or so, trying to put the breaks on my night time binging which is the main time I overeat. The weather is improving so I should be able to get moving, but I also am not a big sun lover so it can quickly become too hot for me. For the most part I feel I will have to find ways to get exercise indoors (gardening not withstanding).

I have a lot of work ahead of me. If you have inspirational blogs to recommend, by all means share them with me.

It’s good to be back, I think.


Modern Man — A Narcissistic, Porn-Addicted Misfit

A friend of mine put this quote from self-described narcissist and narcissist expert Sam Vaknin on Facebook and it blew my mind:

Modern Man is a narcissistic, porn-addicted misfit. Women have banished men from their lives: they raise their children alone; they educate their offspring on their own (90% of teachers are female); they are way more accomplished academically and they are breaching all the remaining glass ceilings forcefully. Men are on the retreat, hiding in cyber caves, self-medicating perilously, assiduously avoiding the dual threats of intimacy and sex with women, their newfound nemesis. It is War and all sides are losing it.

My God, I know that not all men can be described that way, but many modern men (and more than a few women) can.

So it prompts me to ask, what the hell’s going on and how can we survive this?

Men (and some women) are throwing away years of marriage, fidelity, children, homes, other resources, sometimes including jobs, for what? A few orgasms and having their ego stroked. In order to behave as though they have no responsibilities again. And yes, I know this has been going on for a long time but it seems so much more prevalent now!

Yet, what responsibilities did they have? Did they do all the shopping? The cooking? The laundry? The cleaning? While couples are getting better at dividing housework, generally it’s still quite uneven. Did they read stories to the kids, bathe them, tuck them in, go to meetings with teachers?  Do they do these things day after day, week after week, month after month, and year after year? Women do this AND hold down full time work.

Generally, they do not. In general they feel ENTITLED to a break from their job (which pays them more) and we think they deserve it. It may be that they really do deserve it. BUT we deserve it too, goddammit. Why is it so easy to put ourselves last?

I cannot fathom how they can be so short sighted. I can’t wrap my head around how a grown ass person can think this way and I fear that it is becoming more common.

Grown men who think they are babysitting and doing their wives a favor while looking after their own children. Grown men who act like children by feeling deserving of time off from family to socialize and drink with others, have solo vacations, play video games, or go to sporting events. And so much porn that an ordinary woman could never get him excited again.

Given their nature, how did men end up in charge of everything? How is it that they are responsible for business, government, law enforcement, when they can be weakened by one single orgasm? It’s one thing for a 14 year old boy to feel that way, but these days so many men are simply not growing up!

Is there something in the water? What the hell is going on?

I’ll be 59 this month and I have so much love to give but I’m not holding out any hope that I’ll find someone who wants my love. In a way it’s a shame because I’d like to care for someone (it comes naturally to me) and to find that there are adult men out in the world doing the right thing and who have balanced their responsibilities and their pecker. I don’t want to believe good men are all gone.

Are we becoming a society where women don’t really need men except as sperm donors? Would this be upsetting or good news for men? Is this who we really were from the start?

Do men see what’s going on here? Does it frighten them or does it titillate them?

If men want to remain immature, without adult responsibilities why don’t they have vasectomies and live the bachelor life instead of ruining the lives of women and children they have been with for ten, twenty, thirty, or forty years?

I’ll admit I don’t understand men at all. I really do miss them in my life but the Mars/Venus thing is just so obvious to me now that I wonder how we ever coexisted. Perhaps when we are young we are so obsessed with breeding we just can’t see the bigger picture. I’m way beyond those years now and find it alarming and sad.

I miss you, men, but I don’t understand you at all.


It’s that Oversensitivity Thing Again

I’ve been eating well since Monday, just five days. Instantly I was aware of certain things.

I’m up three or four times in the night to pee even though I don’t think I’m drinking any more water than I did before. I guess that’s some sort of system flush, so to speak.

I’m very headachy. That could be from it being the peak of allergy season but it could also be from going from a ton of sugar to no sugar. Sort of a detox, if you will.

I’m raw, anxious, and feeling the feels, as they say. In other words I am sober. I am not eating my weight in simple carbs to numb myself and have to say that I don’t like how I’m feeling.

But I can’t stop. I just can’t. I have to keep on.

I pass by a mirror and am mortified by what I see and I’m ashamed. Funny how you can choose to not see for so long.

In the last two or three weeks a young co-worker of mine has been teasing me about forgetting stuff and doing it in a pretty painful way. I resolved to talk to her about it when she was feeling better. (She had been ill this last week). But today she did it again and I reacted before I could stop myself. Now I’m hating myself for what I said, even though what I said wasn’t that bad.

I hate that when I speak up for myself I feel horrible for hurting someone. Yes I could have said it more calmly and I certainly wish I had, but what I said was still true. “You’re hurting me with all your criticisms.”

Now I can tell she’s pissed and not going to speak to me. That’s fine, but I feel like an idiot that I didn’t get to have that calm conversation with her, rather than lashing out. I truly feel like an idiot. And I feel she’ll tattle to our supervisor who is also her bff.

Three days ago she hurt me and I went in to the doctor I work for and told her. She told me she thought this young woman was blunt and judgmental and encouraged me to have a sit down with her about how her criticisms are making me feel bad. But alas, I spoke without thinking today.

And in my fucked up ALL OR NOTHING mind, I imagine being fired, being hated, losing my shit.

SHUT THE FUCK UP! Calm the fuck down, ffs!

She’s been a bit of a bully with me. She’s been insensitive. She’s teased me past the point of good taste. I don’t know why she’s doing it, but it was making me so anxious. It was making me fearful of making a mistake in front of her. She’s made comments about my memory. She’s only 26 so she doesn’t realize how horrifying it might be to an almost 59 year old that her memory is shit.

So yes, I blew it, and wish I had behaved differently. But for God’s sake, I need to forgive myself for it! This behavior of mine is so deep. I wonder how I became this way. Don’t answer that. I was never allowed to express myself or have an opinion and when I did express it, I was always wrong, wrong, wrong. Thanks, mom.

This co-worker was starting this up before I started reducing my calories and I don’t know what brought it on. Can it be that she really is kidding? That she really does think it’s funny to tease an older woman about her memory?

When I put it that way I understand that this is not all my doing. But fuck I wish I could have handled it differently.

I felt terrible about it all day. We were so busy there was no way we could chat quietly about it. I texted her after work and she was dismissive about it and didn’t want to talk about it. I apologized to her for lashing out when I could have calmly told her that she is hurting my feelings.

“Hurting my feelings” sounds so fucking juvenile! She probably thinks I’m such a freak for taking it too hard. Am I simply being over sensitive? Am I just supposed to laugh and shrug off everything she says? Is it possible that someone’s told her before that she’s a bit of a mean girl?

But then I was mean when I spoke to her. Sigh.

I am so sad that the person I am emotionally is only 12 years old, at best. I am so sad that I fear I will never know what it’s like to be a mature woman in my behavior.

But, in spite of feeling really shitty that I hurt someone’s feelings, I didn’t go off and eat a bunch of shit. So there’s that to be thankful for.

On a parting note, the doctor I work for did a talk on ACEs which are Adverse Childhood Experiences. You can find copious amounts of material about it online, but the bottom line is, the more ACEs you have, the more you are likely to have mental illness, be fat, be an alcoholic, a drug addict, get cancer and autoimmune diseases, die young, and a million other things. ACEs put you in a higher risk for everything that’s bad.

When I think of my childhood I don’t know how I’ve come through it as well as I have. By all accounts I should be dead. So the fact that I sit here sober (although fat), employed — well, I count myself lucky.

My brain is not like a person’s brain who has had a good childhood — and the memory most definitely can be affected. As I listened to her talk I thought Oh My God, is there any hope for me?

But we talked about it later and this is why it’s important for me to paint, play my music loud, swim, cook, nest in my home, create a beautiful garden — those are the things that can bring healing.

What things do you do that make you feel that a small part of you is healing from the action?

I have to admit, I prefer the roller coaster over the merry-go-round:

The Part Where I Attempt to Take Care of Myself (Again)

While it may be boring to everyone but me, I am once again embarking on a health kick.

I’ve gained all the weight my body will allow. I have a knee that just can’t take any more. When my weight’s lower, it hardly bugs me at all.

I actually began the healthy eating part yesterday but didn’t weigh myself until this morning. I know most people would be devastated to weigh 249 pounds, I was only relieved I hadn’t gained back every pound I had lost after the cheater discarded me. I was up to 270+ at that time. So, hey, it’s all relative, right?

I also know that it took a great deal of effort for me to get to 199 pounds and I stayed at that weight for about a day and a half. I’m 5′ 8″ and I was wearing normal sized clothing at that weight, of course I was swimming a lot, too, so that no doubt made a difference in how I looked. My point is that my goal is to get back to 199. That’s it. Any more than that will be icing on the cake, so to speak.

I plan to get more active but right now I’m focusing on the eating. Part of the reason for not doing everything at once is my knee hurts too much!

I was considering gastric bypass surgery recently and was reminded that before they perform that surgery they put you on a super diet to make you lose 25 or 30 pounds first. It reminded me that if I can lose weight without putting my body through surgery, I need to do it.

As I was losing the 70ish pounds I lost two years ago I knew all along that keeping it off would be nearly impossible. Every article I came across said virtually the only way to not gain weight back is to have gastric bypass. Otherwise the fat wants to come back and it does come back.

What I have to face if I can is that to keep it off I will need to eat less calories than other people who maintain. That’s just a fact. The metabolism is effed up or something. But to keep it off I will have to diet forever.

The odds of me succeeding at that are pretty much impossible, so I’ve decided that I’ll do my very best and I’ll add important lifestyle changes that might have a more lasting impact.

So yesterday and today I came home and made a homemade soup that was nutritious and super delicious.

I start by sautéing some cubed firm tofu in olive oil in a nonstick pan until it’s golden brown and meanwhile, in the soup pan I sauté a sliced leek, a handful of sliced mushrooms, fresh asparagus, and at the end, some spinach. Then I throw the tofu in and add hot water. For seasoning I added some light soy sauce, a few drops of sesame oil, a small squirt of Siracha sauce, and some salt and pepper. I let it simmer for about five minutes, until the asparagus seemed cooked, and then chowed down.

I’ve eaten that yesterday for dinner and today for lunch. Then a new batch tonight which I’ll finish tomorrow. It’s a bit hot these days for soups, but it’s all I can consider right now. I think it would be really good with a few shrimps or a handful of crabmeat.

Right now I’m weaning my poor body off the junk food I eat around here. My stomach is intermittently rebelling and I’m making trips to the bathroom. That always happens to me when I change my diet. It’ll stop eventually.

I’m working every day on getting better sleep. I’m often in bed before it’s pitch black out, but I still don’t get great sleep. Sleeping in a small day bed where I can’t stretch out has been problematic for me.

I’ve made a concerted effort to wash my face every night rather than use those makeup remover sheets. It’s a nice routine and makes me feel ready for bed. I did some research on those electric face brushes — hah, I can’t think of what they’re called. They have batteries and a fine brush which rotates and cleans your pores. I bought one from Korea that is said to be the most gentle so I’m excited to try that when it arrives.

I went to World Market on my lunch hour yesterday and bought three decorative pillows for my non existent couch. They were on sale and I got all three for $20. It was good to get out of the office and nice to do something other than hunt for vintage goods. To be honest I don’t need more kitchenalia! (Well, I need a new rice cooker, a new electric kettle, but I’ll buy those new). What I will need are practical things like a hose, a rake, a weed wackier, a toilet plunger, cleaning supplies, paper goods well, you get the picture. I need to save for practical things.

The most recent three day weekend reminded me that I have no fucking life at all and it depressed me. When I have a home to care for and a dog to walk, I will be too worn out to care about my lack of social life, at least for a while, while it’s new to me.

I am hoping that the house/dog thing will be the major lifestyle change I need to help me keep weight off.

My new position starts in one month and slightly increased pay with it and that’s about the time I will be able to start officially looking for a home to buy.

Oh, and apparently my sister, two of her children, and one grandchild will be moving here about then as well.

My father asked me if I wanted them to come to my confirmation this Sunday and I was floored. Interesting that it wasn’t my mom. Dad was born Catholic but hasn’t been in a church in many decades. I guess he just though I might like it, so I said, sure, that’d be nice and told them not to feel like they have to do all the standing and kneeling parts.

Interesting times ahead!






Peace Be With You

I think I’ve said I was winding down this blog before but I feel I’m really beginning to repeat myself. I made it private a few days ago simply because I didn’t want to hit the delete button but wasn’t sure what to do. Guess I’ll leave it up as it is and check in now and then.

I’m far from perfect. Far from blissful. In fact I’m blue (again) right now. But I am finally starting to see that it probably won’t last. Feeling great won’t last, either. But I will feel good again.

I don’t feel entitled to happiness and I don’t feel anyone should. I strive for a reasonable contentedness most of the time. The highs don’t seem as wonderful without the lows anyway.

I don’t know what the future holds — oh how I wish I did. But at this point I’m just complaining about everyday life experiences — nothing all that interesting. They’re new to me because I’m a very late bloomer at this handling-life-stuff, but they’re mundane to other people.

I’ll be confirmed into the Episcopal church in two weeks. On July 1st I’ll start my new position at work. But I’m beginning to feel that things at work are about to change a bit. There are a couple of people who are not happy and may be moving on. I have to accept it, even if I don’t like it.

I’m super nervous, suddenly, about my new position, and part of me wishes that I never applied for it. I’m savvy enough to know that this is just what I do. I self sabotage. I have to keep talking to my therapist about it, and get that work/life balance I’ve talked about for a while now. Do the work. Leave. Have other things to do.

I’m very cautiously optimistic that I will buy a home in July or August even though I’ve accepted it won’t be in the city I’d prefer. Prices just went too high. But I think I can still manage it, even though it’ll be tight. I’ve also decided to adopt a senior dog even though that’ll add to my expenses. I don’t want to live alone. A dog will keep me active and give me something to love.

And when I do move pretty much everything will seem so new for a while. I’ve owned a few homes in my life, but never totally on my own, so I think it’ll be an adventure. And I’m a serious nester. I’ve taken to call myself a “homie” rather than a foodie, but it doesn’t sound as trendy, does it?

When I move, and can see the vast amount of vintage stuff I’ve acquired, I can probably make a few bucks selling it. And I’d like to have a blog associated with owning a home as a single older woman. In fact I already own the domain name.

It’s too bad I feel I’ve missed the boat to own my own business or do something exciting with my life. I’m just grateful I’m working and carrying my own weight — I never thought I’d get back there.

My church talks a lot about recognizing Jesus in the stranger and so I try to remind myself of that and go easier on people — be kinder. They also talk about us being the body of Christ and so I try to behave as he would behave, which is impossible, but something to strive for. I remember back when “WWJD” became a thing and I thought it was soooo corny and I made fun of it, but now it is secretly what I think. What would He do? And can I come anywhere close to that?

I looked down on organized religion for a long time, but you know when I look around my town it appears the only organizations doing anything to help the homeless/drug addicted are religious organizations and churches. Some churches do walk the walk.

In the last two years or so as I’ve attempted to form a relationship with God for the first time since I was a young teen, I’ve been sure of one thing: He doesn’t mind that I forgot him for a while. He’s been patiently waiting for me to come back. He will always be there.



If I Can Do It, Anyone Can II

I’m in a good place. I’m feeling mostly at ease. I’m relatively hopeful even in the midst of some car troubles which normally freak me out.

Spent four nights out of town at a work conference. Got to know the doctor I’ll be working closely with. She’s not a normal doctor. She made the decision years ago not to be a wealthy doctor since she works for non profits in the child abuse field.

I met her and her partner for a musical which was fun. Later in the week I went to dinner with her. On Friday we were extremely busy but as she left she said, “Thanks for your help today.” And that meant a lot to me. I feel that she has my back. She’ll teach me and she won’t give up on me. We’ve already shared a lot about our lives with one another.

It’s official. I will have that promotion and a raise (no idea how much) effective July 1st. In the meantime I’m doing two jobs and it’s extremely challenging. I guess the only up side is that the week flies by, but I don’t feel I’m doing my best. No one expects more, after all, I am one person doing the work of two. I don’t think I could do it if they told me Aug. 1st instead of July 1st. I am barely holding on.

So I pray that later in the summer when the rush dies down I’ll be able to buy my little modest home. I will be super poor then, but it means so much to me that I am hoping it’ll all be worth it.

My ex and I have a lawsuit and we finally have dates. The depositions will be in July. The trial, if it goes that far, will be early November. The money may be a little or it may be enough to help me, but more important than the money (and I mean this) is that after the trial I never have to speak to him or hear from him again. He swears he will leave and I pray he will keep his word.

The day he tells me he is gone will be a glorious day. I will have MY town back and I can go anywhere without fear of running into him and his young girlfriend, or his pimpish, 50 year old Iranian friend who also fucks college students.

I found myself a little nostalgic over the fact that he packed my stuff for me. He had his girlfriend move in almost immediately while all my stuff was still there (and I still wanted him back) but he would not let me come in and pack it. So I have no idea what I will be missing because it went directly into storage.

I find myself worrying if he’s keeping a favorite knife I’ve had for twenty years, etc. Then I just have to remind myself that it doesn’t matter. It was the price I paid to get rid of him. If I can’t find my good knife, I’ll buy another one.

I do get attached to things, though, and I know that when he leaves that apartment he will leave everything behind that doesn’t fit in a suitcase. That’s how he is. And my stuff will still be there and be abandoned like I was.

I wrote to his landlord (a sort of friend/acquaintance) and asked him to please contact me if the ex leaves stuff behind but he never responded to my message so I doubt that he will contact me.

But would I want that shit anyway? Knowing it became part of “their” household? And probably smells like cigarette smoke? No. I don’t. In the 2.5 years we’ve been apart, I’ve bought so much cool stuff (mainly kitchen stuff, my passion) to make my new abode MY house and nobody else’s house, that I probably will not think too much about what I might have left behind.

The most interesting development this week is that I feel I have outgrown the need for my old therapist. I saw her again (I forced myself to go) to talk about dealing with my stress. It was okay, I guess, but so much effort to get there in the middle of a work day, and then have her tell me the usual stuff that I already know. I don’t think she has more magical ideas up her sleeve. I think I know what I need to do to manage my stress. I just need to do it. I may cancel the remaining appointments I have arranged.

Don’t give me any grief about that either! It’s clear to me that her arsenal of ideas has already been relayed to me. And much of it was provided by me. I need to:

Get exercise.
Be mindful — try breathing exercises and meditation.
Be creative.
Enjoy music.
Enjoy nature.
Rely on God.
Put myself OUT there to meet new people.
Get better sleep.
Forgive myself.
Love myself.

It’s not rocket science. It’s stuff we all need, right?

I needed her desperately in the early days after my ex cheated on me and kicked me out. The discard happened in October but by December I finally saw her photo and found out that she was 30 years younger than me. That news utterly destroyed me. I had been on a waiting list for a therapist and I finally got the call in January.

My therapist saved my life. I saw her every week for over a year. There was even one time where I pulled over in my car and thought I could not take any more pain. I was screaming and wailing. I called and left her a message. She called me back and talked me down. I was so, so grateful for her. The pain that day was horrific.

But I’m not that person any longer. Yes, I can recall the pain, (I’ll never forget it). And now I know that that 26 year old did me a favor. I had been trying to dump his ass for years. Apparently it had to be his idea. And wow, when he was done with me he was D.O.N.E.!

Thanks to my therapist, my doctor, my church, my family, my volunteer job, I just kept trudging through each day, putting one foot in front of the other.

And here I am. Things aren’t perfect but in regards to that horrible experience, I have survived, I have move on, and I am truly at Meh.

If I can do it, anyone can.