My father's 68th birthday, 5/6/2009 October. It used to be my favorite month. Halloween was/is my favorite holiday because of the mystical aspects of it, not because of the scary aspects. I like black cats, flittering bats, full moons and magic. The magic of October has weakened for me though and now it is a month I just try to get through. Ever since my father died in October of 2009, I dread October. My father died on a Wednesday and for a very long time Wednesdays were horrible for me. They're still not my favorite day but I don't believe they're cursed anymore. I've had some very good things happen on Wednesdays in the past year and I try to focus on that. I always try to focus on the positive but it isn't always easy. Holidays without my father are painful. His birthday, family birthdays, Father's Day and all the big holidays have lost so much of their warmth without him. I still remember how happy he was on his last birthday when I frosted the cake in a cute if not exactly artistic way. I loved making his birthday cake because he always made mine when I was growing up. I was returning the love and thoughtfulness he always bestowed upon me. Three years. Sometimes it feels like three seconds. I'm back in that moment on that Wednesday sitting at my old kitchen table with my mother sitting across from me in tears as she tells me that they took him off life support and he passed that afternoon. I still remember that small flicker of hope within me that made me believe for just a moment that she'd tell me that he'd started breathing on his own. He hadn't. His spirit was still strong but his body had endured too much and he couldn't physically fight anymore. I understood, I did, but I still cried and it still hurt worse than having a knife twisted in my heart. My father was gone. I would've given anything to have him back. I remember hugging my father for the last time. Oh how I wish I'd hugged him tighter and longer! I told him I loved him like I always did when I left my parents' house. I couldn't imagine then that I'd never be able to hug him again in my lifetime. For several months after his passing I didn't want anyone touching me, I didn't want anyone close. I felt I'd failed him somehow and that letting anyone touch me would just bring more pain. I didn't truly have that choice though, I had two very important people that needed my touch and care every day: my daughters. Without my daughters I wouldn't have had the strength to get out of bed every day. As much as I wanted to pull the covers up over my head and wallow in sorrow and darkness, I couldn't. I was a stay at home mom and they depended on me and it wasn't within me to fail them. I am so truly blessed that I have my girls, they saved me. Losing my father brought several things to light in my life. I realized that life was too short to waste being unhappy and afraid. I no longer wished to be an unappreciated doormat for my then husband and so I sought divorce. I knew I'd need to provide for myself and my daughters so I went back to work. I wanted a place of my own without memories of a failed marriage so I started looking for a house. All rather drastic measures to take for a girl who was still trying to figure out who she was without the physical presence of her father. I felt my father's love for me and his strength within me and I still do. As desperate as I am to hug him just one more time, I know that isn't possible but I also know that he will never truly leave his little girl. I did not set out on an easy road after my father died. I did not remain safely within the sheltered cave that had become my life up until that point. I sought a brighter light and a better future and I do not regret any of it. I am happy with my life and I feel I'm doing a pretty good job. Yet I will admit that something is still missing. Though it might be easier for me to give up on love after everything I've been through, I can't. Despite the fact that every man who has hugged me since my father died has only brought me heartache, I still believe a good man exists for me. A man like my father who can love and accept me unconditionally and who can share his heart with me without qualms or fear. I have loved men but that love has never truly been returned and so I keep searching. When I connect with someone I do not entirely believe it is just coincidence. Everything happens for a reason. Every connection comes from something deeper, some kindred spirit. Each connection begins a new quest and I am ever hopeful for the future. It will happen when it is meant to and then the bigger picture will finally and completely make sense. I have faith.
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I got my hair cut yesterday afternoon. Usually a "hair cut" for me is about an inch off the ends but this time it was more like five inches. I felt it was past time for a change and my long hair was becoming more of a hassle than it was worth. Long hair has a tendency to get caught in coat zippers, earrings and sometimes even in car doors. I certainly don't need that kind of aggravation on a daily basis. Cutting off so much length was also symbolic for me in a way. I'd grown my hair long to prove that I could and to increase my visual appeal to the opposite sex. Visual appeal certainly has its place but I have far more inner beauty than can ever be seen by the naked eye. By cutting my tresses short I feel I've freed myself from the tangles of my past and can now move forward with a much lighter and more flowing stride. October is a rough month for me and it has certainly had its tribulations thus far but I keep chugging along. I've made it to the gym 4 out of 5 weekdays the past two weeks, I go on my one mile lunch walk whenever it isn't raining and I walk Jazz over the hills on nice evenings. I admit that I am a stress eater so my diet hasn't been perfect but I'm doing my best all things considered. I will make it through this month and life will continue to improve and I will reach my goals. My faith falters at times but it never totally fades and it eternally returns stronger than before. I am moving forward while returning to pieces of my past that I'd somehow forgotten bring me pleasure. In rediscovering past quests I am finding fresh ones and this prospect genuinely excites me. Using knowledge I've acquired in previous endeavors for new and different adventure is always a fun challenge and I welcome it! My writing and artistic prospects are also taking unique new paths and I am eager to expand my creativity in stimulating ways. Sometimes transformation comes upon you and sometimes you create it within yourself but how you embrace it and learn from it is all that truly matters. After my oldest brother and I moved the big heavy washer and dryer into my basement this past Saturday I didn't really have the energy to tackle my shelving project until the next day. I slept in until the nice late hour of 7am Sunday morning and then shuffled about for an hour or so trying to completely wake up. It was still overcast at 7am but Jazzmin's internal doggy watch apparently felt it was time to wake Mama up so she was at the side of my bed staring at me until I acknowledged her existence. I enjoyed my breakfast and then decided to tackle the shelving project. I opened up the box my drill came in and groaned at my stupidity for not charging the battery the day before. Curious, I pressed the trigger and was pleasantly surprised to find that the battery had come fully charged. Apparently I'm not the only DIYer out there who lacks foresight. I then gathered up all the tools necessary for the job including the shelves, brackets, supports, level, drill and 3/8" drill bit and headed into my youngest daughter's bedroom. My oldest daughter helped put up cute wall clings over my youngest's bed and I didn't really want to rearrange them because they never stick right the second time. I managed to find a spot for each bracket that did not interfere with the clings and that would provide proper support for the shelves. I set about mounting the brackets which first involved using my level to make sure they were straight and the same distance from the ceiling. I then made marks with a pencil until I somehow managed to lose that pencil in my daughter's bedroom and was forced to get another one. I also managed to misplace two screwdrivers that I didn't find again until the project was done. In the process of climbing up and down off the bed and in and out of the room to fetch things I discovered that it's not only possible, but highly likely that I will step on a bright orange and black cordless drill even though it isn't in my direct path on the floor. I stepped on the drill and the drill bit several times and I don't recommend doing so. I would've put the drill up somewhere except then I'm certain I would have managed to somehow lose it. I do believe I've mentioned before that I am not grace personified. Drilling the holes for the wall anchors was enjoyable in that using power tools always makes me feel rather rawr. My little drill didn't have as much oomph as bigger ones but it worked. Making the holes was actually the easy part, cramming the anchors in was a bit of a pain. Next time I'm choosing my own anchors because the ones that came with the brackets had to be squished down and shoved in and by the time I was done, my finger strength was about gone. Live and learn like always. When the brackets were mounted I stepped back and was pleased to see that they actually looked level and evenly spaced! I then grabbed my shelf supports...and discovered that they didn't fit the shelves. Ugh. So much for the employee at the home improvement store actually being "helpful." I was dismayed that I couldn't finish the project right then but I already had plans to meet a friend for lunch and there just happened to be another home improvement store near the restaurant. I showered the sweat off, dressed and headed to the store and sure enough, they had the right length and style of shelf supports. I returned home from lunch with my friend and quickly finished the shelving project. I then began artfully arranging my daughter's plethora of toys and stuffed animals on the shelves. I made her favorite toys easily accessible and put the ones she probably forgot she owned on the higher shelf knowing I could always get them down if she wanted. I then made her bed with fresh sheets and comforter and tidied a bit more and stepped back to admire my work. I was certain she'd be pleased with the results and I was indeed quite proud of myself. There had been a couple minor snafus but nothing I couldn't handle. When I brought my daughters home later that day I suggested that my youngest check out her room and she eagerly stripped off her coat (throwing it on the floor) and ran into her bedroom. My oldest was on her heels and I smiled when they both expressed how surprised and pleased they were with the shelves. My youngest immediately began doing stuffed animal roll call and was soon happily playing on her bed. I sat on the bed with her while my oldest went to do more "mature" 10 year old girl things and we all had a lovely rest of the day. This single white female can do it herself and the rewards are well worth it! Me & my new B&D drill My youngest daughter loves her stuffed animals and toys. She loves them so much that she insists on taking several to bed with her. After several weeks of this, her bed always becomes rather cluttered but as she has the smallest bedroom and storage space is limited in my 900 square foot house, I had to figure out a workable solution. I am rather fond of home design and remodel shows and on such shows they often tout the importance of using vertical space, i.e. installing shelves on walls. This sounded like a good idea indeed and so I set about implementing it. I grew up with two older brothers and was married forever so if a house project needed doing, there was always a man to do it. Now that I have my own house and am happily divorced (yes, I said happily, not a typo), it's all up to me to do house projects. While it's true I could have asked my oldest brother to help me with the task, he had already said he'd help me move my friend's slightly used but working washer and dryer into my basement. I figured him doing me that favor was enough to satisfy brotherly love and loyalty for a while. I didn't want to push my luck. Shelving project in mind, I headed to a big box home improvement store Friday evening after work. The shelves to support a collection of stuffed animals and toys didn't need to be anything heavy duty so I started perusing the selection of those white painted wire shelves used for closet organization. There was a package of two four-foot shelves and the price was right so I placed them in my cart. I then picked out the brackets I needed and started looking for the shelf supports. None of the supports in the aisle looked right and my confused expression eventually drew the attention of an employee. He helped me find what he thought would work and I added the supports to my cart. I know from watching and helping with several home improvement projects that shelves need to be securely mounted to the wall to ensure safety and longevity. The brackets for the shelves included anchors and screws and as I know you can never find a wall stud when you need one, I was certain I'd have to use anchors. Installing anchors requires drilling holes. I didn't own a drill so off to the power tool section I went. Now I am certainly not trying to sound sexist here, but it is very rare thing indeed to see a woman among the power tools unless it's the holidays and she's shopping for her man. There were a handful of men in the power tools section thoughtfully pouring over the selection of drills and bits and sanders, etc. and then there was me. I glanced at the cordless drills and saw a small Black & Decker one that appealed to me but as the boxes for them were in a different aisle, I decided I'd move down and pick out some drill and screwdriver bits first. Thankfully the shelf brackets said exactly what size drill bit was required for the included anchors and I found that in a set of 29 drill bits that was on sale. I could have just purchased the 3/8 inch drill bit that was needed for the job but I'd learned from observation that there always seems to be a need for a decent sized collection of bits. As I'm certain I'll have more home improvement projects down the road, I made the most economical and sensible choice. I also grabbed a small package of double ended screwdriver bits and then went to the aisle with the cordless drills in boxes. The one I'd see on display wasn't in stock so I grabbed the next size up for only slightly more money. I now felt that I was properly "armed" for my shelving project and made my purchases. This may sound funny, but buying tools always gives me this cool sense of power and empowerment. I am a single woman and I own my home so it just makes sense that I should be able to take care of whatever needs to be done. I admit that I have no desire to ever attempt to repair my vehicles and prefer to pay qualified mechanics to do so, but my house is different. It's a lot of work to maintain a home in the country, especially one on 1.4 acres but I always manage and I'm constantly learning. With each new task I accomplish, I gain more pride in my home and in myself and such qualities are not a bad thing to possess. How did installing the shelving go? Well, that's a story for another day... Today is the first day of October and autumn started several days ago. Autumn is my favorite season as the leaves on the trees turn vibrant shades of red, orange, yellow and purple. There is an abundance of purple leaves this year and I saw the first hints of it during my trip to the Adirondack Mountains this past August. I'm sure it has something to do with the peculiar weather conditions we've had and I am enjoying the unique violet hue among the trees. As much as I love the fall, October has been a challenging month for me for the past three years. My father passed on October 21st, 2009 and ever since then the entire month has a different feel. I have vowed to make October a strong and productive month for me though. I do not believe there is any set time that is appropriate for mourning the loss of a loved one. When someone precious to your heart leaves this world, dealing with that and accepting their absence is a long and perhaps never ending process. The pain is certainly less than it was three years ago but it's still there. I went to some bereavement support groups in the months following my father's death and there were people who lost loved ones over 10 years ago but they still teared up when talking about their grief. It takes as long as it takes and everyone heals at their own pace. My father's spirit is still with me and he looks out for me as best he can but I believe I am finally getting the hang of flying with these wings I started spreading years ago. My father had health issues before he died and he had suffered several strokes but his passing was still sudden and from something we never expected. After his first stroke he was rehabbed to almost 90% and his strength and determination was truly inspiring. His health issues scared me and kicked my butt into taking charge of my own health. I changed my diet and began seriously working out and lost 50 pounds in six months pretty much on my own. By the time I had my second daughter I was in much better shape than I'd been with my first daughter. It was also a bit easier to get back in shape after I had my youngest but I'm certainly not one of those celebrities that snaps back into perfect shape when their baby is two weeks old. I am and will always be a work in progress and I think we all are. There's no fun in being "done" and it's up to us to continue challenging ourselves to become better than we are today. I admit that in the hotter summer months I'm not exactly fond of working out so the cooler months of spring and autumn are when I really hit my stride. In order to get back on the exercise "wagon" I have started going to the gym four days a week before work. I only have about 20 minutes to work out by the time I get the girls on the bus and get there but I make the most of it. As long as I've got some up tempo music playing on my phone MP3 player I'm all good. I also take daily lunch walks of at least a mile when it isn't raining and walk Jazzmin on evenings I don't have the girls and the weather cooperates. Jazz and I did a lot of walking in the snow and rain this past winter and spring so I'm sure we'll get back into that soon. Nothing fazes that pup and when I say "Walk?" she runs to the door in eager anticipation. She's a great little motivator and I think she'd walk for 100 miles if I had it in me to go that far. If she ever manages to trip me and get off the leash I have no doubt she'd walk that far alone... Along with getting back in "fighting shape" physically I'm also going to re-awaken my creativity and start painting again. Painting is my favorite way of expressing what I'm feeling and my creations can always be translated in so many different ways. I have a handful of blank canvases just yearning to be caressed by a brush. I also do smaller works on watercolor paper because I like how versatile acrylic paint is on it when I add water. Water is essential in all of my paintings; it is how I blend my colors together in a background. Water is essential to life as is change. Life is always changing and flowing and diverging down paths we never anticipated. I shall keep my head and hopes up, maintain my steady pace and be vibrant, but I shall not fall. Despite how uncomfortable I felt with the situation, I drove the Honda Accord the Rav4 dealer let me borrow to work the next day. I'd already decided I wasn't going to buy the Rav4 and I dreaded the idea of driving that Accord an hour back to the dealer. The friend of a friend who had been helping me find a car was no longer being helpful in any way so I called the dealer and left a message asking if they could come pick up their car. They called me back a half hour later and said that yes, they'd come pick up their car and also shred the paperwork for my purchase of the Rav4. Knowing all that lifted a great weight off my shoulders but I still had a problem: no vehicle unless I wanted to take the Explorer back. The thought of having to drive that Explorer again really did not appeal so I spent a majority of Friday looking online for a different vehicle. There were a few Honda CRVs, Toyota Rav4s and Subaru wagons around but they all had something that didn't fit my needs: high miles, expensive, automatic transmission, not so great gas mileage. Two of my girlfriends had talked about the Toyota Matrix as an option and when I searched for one that was stick, newer than my Explorer and in my budget, only one came up. It was at a dealer in a nearby town and the more I looked at it online, the more it grew on me. I hadn't driven a stick shift car since my first vehicle in high school which was a Ford Aspire but I couldn't deny the appeal of the great MPG manual Matrix's get. I decided to rent a car for the weekend to facilitate my vehicle shopping needs and fortunately there's a rental place right down the road from where I work. I made arrangements for them to pick me up after work and I decided I'd look at that Matrix that night because the dealer was open until 8pm. The rental place picked me up and rented me an "economy" class car that turned out to be a Chrysler 200. It was a nice enough car but it was automatic and driving it further convinced me that I just couldn't buy an automatic car. If it doesn't involve shifting, it's just not fun. I arrived at the dealer and listened to the salesman's required speech about how they operate and then told him I knew exactly the car I wanted. He checked to make sure it was still for sale and luckily it was so we took it out for a test drive. The shifter for it is closer to the instrumentation than in the Explorer so I kind of felt like I was shifting into the radio but it had a nice smooth ride, easy clutch and the usual short shift throws for a car. I was then convinced that it was the car for me and we returned to the dealership to take care of the details. An hour and a half later, the financing was all in place and I was set to pick the Matrix up the next morning. As I drove out of the dealer parking lot in my rental car I said out loud in amusement "There, Dad, I finally bought another car!" My father had been after me to buy a more economical car for years but ever since I hit a deer in a car on my 22nd birthday, I'd been gun-shy about driving a car. Having to drive cars for the previous day and a half I realized I was okay in a car as long as I drove slower at night and kept my eyes peeled. The Matrix is very roomy for a car and the seating position is higher than the Honda and Chrysler I'd driven so I didn't feel like I was sitting on the road. The cargo area is plenty big enough for a suitcase and Jazz's collapsible crate for when I venture out on road trips too. I picked up my Matrix Saturday morning and the more I drive it, the more I know I made the right choice. Toyota seems to have put a lot of thought into designing that vehicle and it even has a 6 disc CD changer which I've never had on any vehicle I owned. It is white like a blank canvas and it is just the first step of many into this newest chapter of my life. I am so proud of myself for getting a car all on my own and I'm sure my father is proud too. I know I'm strong but sometimes my strength surprises even me. I stayed home from work today and it's something I haven't done in over a year. I've taken vacation days to go on fun and interesting adventures but for me to take a sick day I have to be in serious discomfort. I don't like being benched. Today I took a sick day because I have had an almost constant headache and neck ache for nearly a week. I twisted or pulled something in my neck and the more I move, the more the pain radiates up through my entire head. As I write this I'm sitting up in bed with a heating pad curled up behind my neck like a pillow and it's bringing much needed relief. Poor Jazzmin is confused as to why mama is home and not taking her for a walk but I'll make up it up to her with lots of hilly walks when I'm back up to snuff. I'm not one to accept being waylaid by sickness or pain. Despite my undying headache I still went to the gym twice this week and walked on my lunch breaks and did all the normal exercise I usually do. In hindsight, maybe I should have taken it easier on myself but I tend to be rather stubborn. I always get stubbornness and determination confused and when I get it set in my head that I want to do something, I do it. This trait of mine has led me to experience many life lessons that were nothing at all like I expected and to accept that the best laid plans are more like guidelines than how things will really work out. I've had a lot of time to think today and try to come to terms with certain things. There are some pages in the novel of me that I have to turn and I'm having a hard time with it. I don't want to move the bookmark; I don't want to put those chapters totally in my past where the memories of them will eventually fade. I keep hoping that if I just reread a certain page or paragraph a few more times I'll see where I went wrong and where life took a turn in the direction I never wanted it to go. The writing remains the same though, the words don't change and the experiences have all happened and time has continued on. Despite how I sometimes wish time would stop moving forward, it always does and I eventually remember that fighting it is a foolish waste of my heart and spirit. So I will turn the pages and I will start a new chapter and I will continue on with my undying optimism and hope. I always persevere and the sunshine always breaks through the storm clouds. Always. I was texting my best friend yesterday evening and I jokingly told her that I should write a self-help book entitled "Don't Cry with Makeup On." It really is good advice actually. The reason I recommended removing your makeup before crying is not because I'm concerned your mascara will run or your blush will streak, but because it hurts! It hurts crying with makeup on because the stuff gets in your damp eyes and burns! I've made the mistake of crying after I applied anti-wrinkle cream more than once and that pain is even worse! Alpha hydroxy and tear ducts do not get along. I do understand that fits of crying do not always wait until one is safely home and free of the day's makeup but if you can make it home after a rough day and know the tears are coming, whip out the makeup remover towelettes and take that important first step. Wait to apply anti-aging cream until after...if you can even still see where your eyes were. I am not implying that only women cry, I know men cry even if they won't admit it. Do I think everyone cries as much as I do? Certainly not. Do I think there's something wrong with me because I cry as much as I do? Heck no! I held a majority of my emotions inside for most of my life, especially the negative ones. I had no problem expressing joy, amusement, excitement but sadness, forget it. I knew once I let that dam break it would never be whole again and I feared the weak, worthless creature I'd become. Here's the kicker though, it isn't weak to cry; it's called being human. If we weren't meant to feel then we wouldn't have been blessed with emotions. Yes, I said blessed. Me, the woman who now cries at the drop of a hat so well she could star in an overly dramatic soap opera, believes that emotions are a blessing. Do not misconstrue what I'm saying and think that I'm sad all the time because I'm not. I have accepted though that there are certain things that I can't think about without crying. My father's death, my mother still without a man who loves her, my oldest daughter's sensitivity, my youngest daughter's developmental delays, my friends' pain, my myriad of creatively broken hearts, my constantly misbehaving car...these things make me cry. I don't cry because I've given up hope, I will never do that, I cry because I feel. Feeling is good and don't let anyone tell you otherwise! There may be times in your life when you have to store away emotions until they can be tackled at a time you have more strength and that's fine. Just remember to tackle them first or they will overcome you. None of us can really master our emotions completely, it's like trying to tame a wild animal. That wild animal might be sweet and cute as a domestic pet until one day their instinct takes over and they remember the wildness in their blood that enabled them to survive and evolve. Never forget that we humans are animals too and we are constantly evolving and if we do it right, we evolve into better versions of ourselves. A good cry really can do wonders and if you have a shoulder to cry on, that's even better. I have friends who are there in spirit offering their shoulder and that is a great thing. I also have my lovable pup Jazzmin who is always at my side when I cry and she never minds if I get her fur all wet as I hug her. She will also lift her paw for a friendly shake as if to say "I understand, Mama, now give me some paw" and that always makes me smile and laugh. Having a friend, lover or pet who can make you laugh amid your tears is a huge bonus. Laughter is an expression of joy and it is just as vital as expressing sadness. Do not wallow in your sadness, that is not its purpose of being. Sadness is a cleansing emotion and expressing and releasing it facilitates the arrival of more light and energy into your spirit and your life. The sun always breaks through the storm eventually and when your tears dry (and the puffiness of your eyes diminishes) you will finally be able to clearly see the beauty of the sky above and accept all the gifts bestowed upon you. This coming Saturday, August 25, 2012 will be the one year anniversary of me buying my own house. Not bad for a girl who never thought she would see her name solo on the deed to a property. You see, I got married at 21 years old and I thought I'd already achieved the fairy tale and that I was set for life. I was wrong about that. That fairy tale was not what I thought it was but as I'm a writer, I figured out how to rewrite my own happily ever after. I learned that there isn't just one "happily ever after" but several and they never end. Not unless you want them to. Last April I moved out of the house in the country that I'd picked out and lived in for 9 years and into a much smaller apartment. I never realized how much stuff I'd accumulated over the years until I went to move it all. Thankfully, my new apartment had a garage and a full basement, otherwise I don't know where I would have put all of my belongings. Moving from a two story house with 1800 square feet, an open floor plan, three bedrooms and one and a half baths into a two bedroom apartment with under 1000 square feet and a single bathroom was quite an adjustment. But it was an adjustment I happily made because it meant I was free. Free of being told what to do, free of being belittled and mocked, free of obeying rules I had no part in setting up. I would have lived in a box under a bridge by that point to achieve my freedom. I don't think my daughters would have gone along with that idea though. I moved a majority of my boxes of stuff on my own via several full loads in my trusty Explorer. My apartment was less than 10 minutes from my old house and some nights I'd take 2-3 trips back and forth as I prepared to finally escape. I wanted to be fully moved out by the time the separation papers were signed and I pretty much was. I was essentially starting over so I also had to purchase and assemble most of my furnishings. Did you know that you can buy a non-futon couch in a box? Well now you do. My friend and I assembled my little couch and as I know all the parts involved in it, I am certain of its stability. I got really good at assembling storage cabinets and bookshelves too and could probably still do that in my sleep. I was literally exhausted for the first month after moving into my apartment. Problem was, I was also suffering from insomnia. I'd just made the biggest transition of my life to that point and my mind was on overdrive as it filled with worry and uncertainty. This was not the life I'd imagined for myself and my daughters, what if I screwed it up? My first night alone in the apartment without the girls was extremely hard. I remember crying on my kitchen floor with my two lovable cats rubbing up against me thinking their mama was going to suffocate if she didn't breathe at some point. I can still feel that cold tile floor pressing into my skin as I write this and feel that ache in my heart. Being unable to see my girls every day and night has grown easier but as I was a stay at home mom and they were my entire world for 9 years, it will never be completely acceptable to not have them with me. So I lived in that apartment and it was nice enough but it drove me nuts having to share walls with people. My old house had over 3 acres of property and the apartments shared a small yard area which did not compare at all. I quickly began to feel like I would suffocate if I had to live there forever. I'd been looking for a house since before I moved out but my realtor and I hadn't had any luck. Living in that apartment made me realize that I could do just fine in smaller square footage than my old house, just as long as I had some space to breathe! That realization proved very useful as it helped me re-examine what I needed in a house. Two bedrooms was insufficient because the girls sharing a room meant they stayed up giggling until way past their bedtime so I knew I needed three bedrooms. Sharing a single bathroom was tricky with three females but we managed so that was fine. As long as my future house had a basement or garage for storage, I'd be set. There had been a home for sale for as long as I'd been looking but I kept dismissing it because it had under 1000 square feet. I decided to look at it closer and when I saw that it was on 1.4 acres, I concluded that the spacious outside would make up for the smaller inside. The people had moved out months ago and it was move-in ready. Several families of mice had in fact, already moved in as my cats later discovered. I looked through it with my realtor and I fell in love with the spacious yard, flat driveway (a truly rare gem in the hills where I live) large side deck, recently redone kitchen and blue paneling in the living room. Blue is my favorite color and I'd never seen blue paneling before so I was hooked. Two of the bedrooms were good sized with the third one being somewhat small but I knew my youngest would be more than happy just to have her own room. My mind made up, I put in an offer and the sellers accepted. I was thrilled! The idea of moving again five months after moving into my apartment was not exactly exciting but I knew I could do it. Between putting in my offer and finally closing, I think I gave the bank everything except a DNA sample. It was all worth it though. My name alone was on the deed, my divorce was final and everything I did with my house was completely up to me. Just typing the words "my house" is an empowering thing! Being a homeowner has certainly come with its own unique and surprising challenges. I've met them all and figured it out and I will continue to do so. I love my little house and I've made it my home but I have also learned that it is just another "happily ever after" on the road to many more. There is far more to my future than being a woman living alone in the middle of nowhere country and I look forward to all my future destinations and the adventures that await me. I wonder what it is like to be "that woman."
The woman who walks in the room and demands everyone’s attention. The woman with the dark eyes, full of mystery and magic that draw in both men and women, and makes them yearn to know the secrets hidden within. The woman with the cascading raven hair that evokes ballads from minstrels and sonnets from poets. The woman who leaves a nearly physical spirit behind with anyone who has ever been fortunate enough to touch her. The woman whose vision lingers in dreams and whose voice echoes softly amidst whispers. The woman with fingers tender enough to caress the most delicate of mists and nails hard enough to pierce the harshest of stones. The woman whose influence is remembered when her existence has long faded. The woman men rally to defend though she possesses her own strength for battle. The woman who runs drenched amidst a thunderstorm to challenge the lightning with her fists. The woman whose passion is not seen with eyes but perceived by souls. The woman whose laughter can illuminate the darkest of days if only in a memory. The woman who can carry the heaviest and saddest of hearts upon her shoulders without a single faltering step. The woman who lingers on the edge of darkness while clinging to the shadows of moonlight. The woman who cherishes the girl of her past while knowing that she is intertwined with the goddess of her future. That woman within and without me. |
AuthorMy words are like my brush strokes, I'm never quite sure where they'll flow to and when they'll stop. Categories
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May 2013
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