**note that in my recollection below, I think my dates are off; Aug 29 was Monday*

written Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Hurricane Katrina Experience

Saturday morning, August 28th, I went to work knowing we would be preparing for the worst. I work at a truck lot and trucks are lined up against buildings, secured by the thickest rope I’ve ever seen. I covered computers with garbage bags, lifted them off the floor, and put files in cabinets. All of this was nothing new. We’d done it several times the last couple of years. Afterwards I went home and watched the Weather Channel off and on. No big deal. However, I did a couple of loads of laundry just in case we decided to flee.

Sunday morning, August 29th, I knew this one might actually hit us in Gulfport. I finished up the laundry, took out the trash and got out suitcases. By 10 o’clock we still didn’t know we were leaving for sure. I slowly packed everything up. At noon we watched more tv, local and national, and we decided this time we’d leave but not go as far as usual–no more going “home” to TX just to turn around 24 or 48 hours later. So, at 1:30pm we left our house. I haven’t been back to see it yet.

——————————————–

We drove up Hwy 53 and ended up in Natchez, stuck in a bunch of traffic. We called Keesler AFB and were advised to go farther northwest. Local tv had instructed MS residents to go east or northeast and we’d heard reports of major congestion on interstates in that general direction. We decided Alexandria, LA would be a good place to stay the night. It was already dark. We made our way there without incident and laid down in the truck to sleep. Our dog Chloe was not sure what was going on but dealt with it. After a couple of hours there, Shawn decided to go to Shreveport to Barksdale AFB. So, we slept most of the night in the Visitor Center parking lot.

I awoke to the sound of my cell phone. My mom had woke up and was checking in on us. Told her where we were and that we were fine. Laid back down and was again awakened by the cell phone. We decided to give up sleeping at all and drove onto base in search of a shower. We found one in the fitness center (gym). A tv was on. There were only radar pictures. Nothing else. We no longer were in range for NPR out of MS so we decided to head east. We ate lunch at Logan’s in Monroe, LA. A TV was also on there. The storm was raging. No live pictures still. We didn’t know how bad or good the coast was. We decided to head back to Natchez. Once we got there, the power was off in parts of town. The cable was out at Walmart. NPR had very little info. We drove to Brookhaven. The winds were pushing the truck. We saw power lines down. In Brookhaven, trees the size of a Mini Cooper were pulled up with their root systems in tact. We turned around and went back to Natchez Walmart. We parked with a bunch of motor homes and listened to NPR. Slowly word trickled in, Biloxi, Gulfport, the entire Gulf Coast hit hard but no pictures, no callers. It was scary. Text messaging was working on our cell phone, friends in Arkansas were seeing pictures that brought them to tears.

Tuesday, August 31st. We woke up a lady in the nearest motor home came up to talk to us. Her husband had gone into Bay St Louis the night before. Their house, their business, everything was gone. It was the 3rd one they’d built and that had been destroyed. Their neighbor was floating in their yard, dead. Anguish and misery and worry filled her face and it suddenly hit me–this hurricane had struck us and struck hard. Hell and high water had came. Word came in New Orleans was flooding. We got a TV and plugged it into the cigarette lighter. We saw few images of MS and lots of New Orleans.

Shawn made me decide-we either head back to Gulfport or go to Sherman, TX. It took a while, and it was a hard decision. I had friends and a home and a job and school in Gulfport. I didn’t want to turn back on that town I loved. But ultimately news broadcasts made it clear, there was no immediate return so we headed to Texas and arrived Wednesday morning at 2am.

We finally had real TV. I couldn’t recognize the usual landmarks. As days went by I suddenly realized I would never be the same. I would likely have friends living with me for a while IF I had a house. Indeed, word did come that my office and my home are intact. I have a job to return to and until then I telecommute. I don’t ever want to leave Gulfport. It’s part of me now. And yet, just yesterday, before we’ve even seen our house, the Air Force is telling Shawn to pick a new place to move to. I’m adamant. I’m staying, I’m rebuilding with others in my community. And I’m waiting on word that I can return to my home.

Yesterday, in line at the bank, I got a compliment from a 60s-ish looking lady.  It was the first time in 36 years I’ve ever received this compliment.  It has changed my life.  The lady first glanced my way and then did a double-take.  I used the double-take to issue a standard Apryl Smile.  Surprisingly, she smiled back and looked me over head to toe without missing a detail.  I have never felt more insecure in my entire life.  But let me back up a bit.

Saturday is the first greatest day of the week.  It’s the first chance to sleep in with no alarm waking me up and the possibilities are endless when my eyes do finally open.  I knew I had to go to the bank and go see my best friend.  That was my to-do list.  There was a myriad of other items I’d like to accomplish, but the rest of the list was basically negotiable.  That’s a Saturday kind of attitude.  Which is why Saturday is the greatest day.  And I awoke this particular Saturday more in love with life than ever before.  Having a better idea of my mindset, you can now see why I laid out two or three outfits that were very bold.  I was taking the world on, feeling like a million bucks [which is interesting considering the $560 I was paying on a loan yesterday felt like giving away a million…anyway, I digress, as usual].  I ended up in my bright red high heels, shorts, a navy sleeveless tank with red polka dots, a cute navy cami underneath, and my hair was free to curl and fly away from my head as it desired.  I picked out some complimentary jewelry, including a ring with a single ruby [totally fake] on one hand and another ring that was $45 and made so well it looks like a $5,000 diamond ring [Premier Jewelry, I love you].  Completed the look with my red lipstick.  It’s Saturday at 9am, but why the hell not. Purse? Navy & red. Bam. Let’s go see my bestie.

So here I am, a bit bold maybe but in love with my life, standing there to drop a huge payment on the loan I am trying to pay off ASAP with this lady judging me.  About the moment I’m internally telling myself I look classy enough for Gulfport, Mississippi and not like a cheap whore this lady says to me, “My, you are very well put together.  I’m so jealous.”  You could have knocked me over out of those heels.  I smiled a warm and genuine smile [I wanted to hug her but that would be weird so I didn’t] and said, “Oh no I’m not put together at all but thank you so much.”  People, especially long-time friends and readers, did you hear that?!  ME, WELL. PUT.  TOGETHER.  WHAAAAAAAAT?! But my heart instantly sank.  While we waited in silence for the cashiers to say, “Next please,” I so badly wanted to throw my purse to the ground, grab her by the shoulders, and look in her eyes and plead with her to see that it took 13,387 days, 22 hours, 10 minutes and 50 seconds of screwing up, starting over, missing the mark, making huge mistakes, treating myself poorly, and learning new ways to get to that moment.  I wanted to get on my knees and beg her to see that no one was more put together than her because no one can do her any better than she does herself.  And by being so kind to me that day, she had changed the world.  

But all I could say was thank you.  And then, when we were leaving and I got into my red car, she said, “And your car matches too!”  I laughed and told her I hoped she had a fantastic weekend.  What I wanted to do was march over [as fast as one can in those damn shoes] and explain that I was no more put together than anyone else.  I haven’t figured out the secret to life, I’m just finally happy.  Happy to be here and take every breath.  Happy to look in a mirror.  Happy to come home.  Happy to go to work.  Happy with what I have but unafraid and hopeful for more good things to come.  But I didn’t come into the world like this and, quite frankly, this feeling peaceful and happy is all still very new to me.

PLEASE, lady, don’t see me as a snotty, classy and perfect human.  I am sooooooo not.  I wanted to sit in her car with her and tell her my dog is old and will die way too soon.  My family is far away and I miss them so much my heart aches. And lady, is that a wedding ring on your hand?  Do you share meals with someone and sleep next to them?  Is there someone around to drive you batshit crazy and also make you laugh every now and again?  Lady, did you have kids before it was too late and didn’t have to realign your dreams and thoughts once you hit your mid-30s and realized it wasn’t happening??!  Do you know how blessed you are to have played in the yard with your kids and had a honeymoon with your husband of god knows how long?!  Cause lady at the bank–who someone likely calls Nana or Memaw–I laid in bed crying a lot of nights before I learned to accept not having those things and making peace with them. Dear bank lady, please don’t say you’re jealous.  It’s all I can do to keep this house up alone.  If you open my closet, credit card bills, a suicide note, divorce papers, and size 16 clothes are gonna hit you on your head.  And that’s just the beginning.  The rest will knock you down.  It was only through sheer willpower, faith in the universe, and love of family and friends that got me back up to a point where I can put on my red heels and red lipstick today.

It has had me in shock and thinking a bit about what people see today and forget that my yesterdays weren’t all smiles.  Do people think I brag?  Probably.  It’s easy to see the rainbow and forget the tornado that preceded it.  But you know what?  All that does is make me even more grateful for everything.  If you see me as put together and full of life and love and blessings, well, I don’t have to tell you anything about the acts of faith and the number of prayers and tears it took to get here.  I’m finally to a point in life where I don’t justify the good or dwell on the bad.  So while I wanted to go have coffee with this lady and explain all this, I just told her thank you and gave her the effervescent smile I carry everywhere with me now.  I don’t have to explain anything to anyone.  Those who know, know.  And if you didn’t know, well, here’s a blog to inform you that just because you walked in on this chapter doesn’t mean you know the story.  Only ⅓ of it is through me, the rest was god or whatever controls this spinning chaos and love from those closest to me…and not a moment goes by I don’t know that.

I received an email soliciting me to buy some personalized products. The subject was, “It’s a Hall thing.” Cute, eh? Except I looked and Sadie with tears and said, “the Hall’s are in Texas so it’s just our thing precious face.”  That email made me feel more alone than ever. Thanks, personalization company. You can forget me thinking of you positively ever again. Actually, it was a very cute product idea. If there were an actual family here, I would scoop up something with our names. 

Not to say that Sadie & I aren’t a family. If you saw the way I ran around looking for her after noticing I was folding clothes alone you would see we are clearly attached. Ok, I am attached. It was like I had lost a toddler in a store. I’m so incredibly used to that dog being beside me that when she wanders outside on her own, I freak out! That’s a family thing. We are one person and one dog, but we love each other. Our family doesn’t look very traditional I suppose–not in the way the email inferred–but we are a unit. 

I’d be lying if I denied telling myself that just to make me feel better. I have a list a mile long of stuff I need more arms and muscle to accomplish around here and yeah, there’s an empty spot that wants the family name to no longer be Hall (no offense, Dad; I’ll hyphenate if you want).  Everybody seems to have somebody or kids or siblings and I see pictures of you all on Facebook. It just drives home that of all the things I wanted when I set out on the journey of adulthood a long time ago, the feeling I long for most has yet to be part of my life.  And I don’t see the vision coming any closer to reality. 

In fact, I’m thinking the miracle of life is one I will never experience. Oh sure, I can physically and maybe even do it alone as so many suggest. But, that isn’t what I want. I don’t want a child just to have a child. I want a family. I want a partner more than just a body or a sperm donor. At this stage of the game, looking at a calendar, I think I would rather travel and experience things together rather than rush to procreate in the finite timeframe I have available. I mean, I’m not shutting the door completely–who knows what life will bring when you least expect it!!–but realistically, I cannot imagine building the kind of relationship and stability I would want to give to a child in a matter of a few years. And damnit, that’s not easy to swallow. Maybe my standards were too high? (Comments not necessary…the douchebaggery on the list of BF’s past doesn’t escape me…that’s a whole other blog)

I almost started a new blog site today. Don’t put anything past me; I own 9 domains (maybe more). My reasoning was that life has taken such a drastic turn for the better. And for SO long this blog was fueled by a different set of emotions. But it hit me: all of this is me. It’s where I came from and how I got here. I’ve lived and loved off nothing but hope and faith for…for a while. Maybe years. If anyone wishes to psychoanalyze the entire blog and report back free of charge, I’ll publish your findings. Maybe not agree with, but will share. 😁 

I’m suddenly one of the people who would rather work or catch up on my personal stuff rather than sleep. Now don’t get me wrong, I love me some sleep. It just doesn’t bother me much to wake up at 4:30 and start my day. Hey, I tried to get two more hours in but my brain was having none of it. And I realized I could grab coffee and this mobile device and then watch the sun come up with a beautiful blonde lab licking my hand. “But the day is going to be so long! I won’t get home until 10 or 11pm!” That thought surfaced and then I just smiled. Damn right I won’t! I have a friend to support at EIGHT75 tonight!! Sure I could wrap my day at around 7, but I’m just excited about hearing her sing and mingling with acquaintances. And maybe, just maybe, I am so darn happy that a little bit of terrible white girl dancing will help me express that. 

Now if we did a follow up story at noon, you may not find so much enthusiasm. I’m certain that one particular department will manage to get under my skin before the clock strikes 12. But even that one negative is planned to turn into a positive. I could be overly optimistic here, but I think with some time and exchange of compassion, we can work together to generate more exposure and more profit. 

I think one reason I cannot abandon this blog is because everything up til now prepared me for this job aka my passion. Let’s think about it–I was one of those consumers with quite a bit of disposable income and time to spend it. I traveled the globe (some, not nearly enough, but more than a lot). I ate authentic Italian cuisine in all kinds of little restaurants. I drank fine Italian wine. I was opened to so much more than I could have been. And those are blessings. The fact that came with a broken heart that I had to mend was a small price to pay looking back.  Couldn’t have told me that until now but some curses are blessings in disguise. 

And I can look back over allllll the years and see that a path was being made for me. I was no spiritual guru or an example to follow, but damnit I held out and didn’t give up. I kept faith and held on fiercely to hope. At moments, there was nothing else to hold. It felt like everything had slipped away and I had lost it all. I’m glad I didn’t give in. I’m glad I was stupid and wise enough to tell myself to keep going. Sometimes that meant curling up in bed and not getting a shower for three days while going insane. And that’s ok. That’s where I needed to be. If I had NOT felt that way, would I rise before dawn so damn happy to watch the sun rise so I could catch this day and make the absolute best of it? No. No, I would not. 

And what about the years of misery with such a nice salary? Do I miss it? Let me tell you when I remembered what woke me up. I fixed my coffee moments ago and when I opened the refrigerator door the dream I’d been in the middle of suddenly came back to me. The fridge has French doors. And in my dream they wouldn’t seal. The cold air was getting out and I was pushing and fighting and angry because I couldn’t afford the electric bill if I didn’t get it shut. And that is reality now. I worry about the bank balance and not making ends meet. But I get to do so much more now at no charge than I did when I had a huge, fat salary. The smile on my face is genuine. So the question is do I want to ever go back to a time when I had to force myself to break even the smallest fake smile or do I want to pinch here and there (dear God, send coupons) but experience authentic and real happiness? That answer is so simple. The thermostat is on 80 degrees and Sadie has cheap treats and I eat cheap ass sandwiches and tuna versus going out for steak and lobster whenever I damn well please…but I’m so HAPPY. This happiness is out of control. 

And a reassuring thought also hit me: my life and relationships are far less effed up than most of the people I know with lots of money. Biggie said it best, “mo money mo problems!” 

I’ve gained four pounds this week.  Combined with some anger (see last post), I knew something was going on.  I woke up and went outside.  I had my coffee and my dog and I just sat in the peacefulness of a summer shower and asked, “please show me what is going on inside me that’s making me act like this?”  The answer did not hesitate and instantly came to me: WHAT IF I FAIL? The new job. Failure.  Oh yes, that makes so much sense!  The F word I hate.  That F word will make me a complete mess quicker than anything else.

PR is something I have never done exactly–I’m just primed for it because of administrative and writing experience combined.  I make the perfect trainee.  But doing something totally different and wishing I could be of more help when my supervisor is completely swamped makes me question if she made the right choice.  And so there it is.  THERE is the reason I have been binge eating and my mind is a mess.  Oh yes, if you want to see a girl come undone, let me feel on some level that I’m failing.

And that F word flows over the relationships I also mentioned.  Complete failures.  Well, now realistically are they failures?  No.  The truth as I know it deep down is that everything happens for a reason.  I also know that God has my best intention in mind.  He wouldn’t give me something unless I needed the lesson it brought.  And maybe that lesson is how to fail and get back up and be bigger, brighter, happier.

Yesterday I took a good long look at my finances.  Something I can bear to do now that a paycheck is getting deposited.  There’s a monthly shortage between paycheck and bills, so I began to trim things.  I was amazingly calm throughout the next few hours.  Immediately went from over 400 TV channels to 4.  That saved $50/month.  Cut the internet speed and saved $10/month.  And then I saw an envelope I needed to open with the bills.  Old life insurance policy I’d had through the old employer.  It has a cash value.  And my taxes, I hadn’t done them.  I said a prayer (not a joke) and started filing my 2014 taxes.  Between the two items, cashing in my life insurance and the tax refund, I will have $4,000 give or take.  That creates a safety net for my food and gas the next few months without going into savings.

So after the “F” word epiphany this morning, I smiled.  I am so silly.  Here I am creating disharmony inside myself when God put this wonderful job inside my hands and within a couple hours fixed my financial troubles with things I had sitting right there on the kitchen table.  Turns out, finding an apartment that will reduce my monthly expenses enough isn’t as easy as I had thought it would be.  So renting the house may or may not be the best option.  If not, then I am thinking a roommate would instantly solve the shortage and even allow for the TV channel to increase. 🙂  So there are options.  God’s got this.  I don’t need to worry so damn much.

That silly F word.  It will wreck havoc on my insides if I don’t watch it.  I can’t be busy looking at doors behind me when the ones in front of me are opening.  Failures are opportunities for everything to turn around and get better.  Failures are blessings if you see what all they can teach you.

I woke up very ranty today.  Before I even looked at my phone I wanted to go on a rant about thigh gaps [how you gonna judge a skinny person but not want to be judged back?! WTF is that hypocrisy] and the Confederate flag [you stupid fuckers, the South totally fucking LOST the war FOREVER ago and has been part of the US for 150 years now.  GET OVER IT.  It’s NOT rising again fucktard and that flag is a symbol of wanting to keep human beings enslaved. Take it down.  It’s 2015.  The British flag used to wave here too but we don’t keep it up “for history’s sake”.  That’s what a textbook is for, dumbasses.]!!!!

So I had to ask myself, “why all the rantyness??  What’s going on here?”  The answer was kinda slow.  First off, I awoke from a bad dream.  I was in the 12th phase of sleep [yes, I am aware there are only 5ish] and I was walking in my work clothes.  I smiled at a man walking the opposite direction and he smiled back.  He took one more step and then reached around and grabbed me.  He was going to kidnap me [how do we “know” things about our dreams when they don’t even happen?].  That’s when I awoke with a start and a pounding heart. Combined with my ranty morning thoughts I decided some sort of inner conflict is going on.  I got some sharks swimming in my subconscious.

Maybe it’s the recent break up.  No break up is good but the one that comes about 11 months after it should have is just…ugh.  Everything was harder than it should have been from the word go and I guess the break up shouldn’t be any easier.  Or am I making it too hard?  Can you be sad about doing what’s best?  Shouldn’t I be happy that it’s fizzling and ended and life can finally go back to normal?  Yes, I should be.  Why am I not?  I’m still kinda hung up on some anger.  Angry at him, angry at me for sticking around so long and believing so much bullshit when actions said otherwise.  Angry that I still think about him.  Angry at myself because I have so much anger!  How do you even untangle that web??

I can only think of one other person in the universe I don’t wish well towards.  So my list of people I hate is up to 2.  And hate is even a tad strong.  It’s just that I don’t wish these guys the best.  I wish that they get what they deserve.  [insert the smirk emoji face]  I wish I could have a crystal ball that would let me see them getting that very deserved shit storm.  Maybe what I want is for two people to acknowledge they caused undue pain.  Well, Apryl, good fucking luck with that.  If I hold onto that desire, I will only continue to hurt.  People like that don’t ever look back and say, “hey, I’m so sorry.”  Why?  Because they got some shit deep inside them that they aren’t capable of facing, much less fixing.  Bless their hearts.  They suck.

Sigh.  That’s an incredible admission I just made.  It means I may never feel like that there was a lesson to gain from all the screwing up and pain I have.  And I’ll even be fair to the last guy and say I still hurt from the one before THAT.  I thought THAT one was for sure something solid.  I thought the games were over, we’d find a way, everything I’ve ever read in books or saw on TV inspired me to believe that it was magic and therefore where I had will, a way would be given.  And then BAM.  Like an umbilical cord cut, I was suddenly the only one thinking about that and if I wanted to breathe and survive it was only to be done alone.  So I drank.  And tried to numb the pain.

In stepped the next guy with all sorts of promises and saying he was a good one.  The other guys before him?  He called them weak.  And it was just what a woman in doubt of the world needed to hear.  My prince charming didn’t meet any of the visions of what princes do and I was perfectly content with that.  Except, early on he became not so charming.  And then, he would do something great.  And then, he’d do something mean, thoughtless, or just plain shitty.  And so began a tragic tale of wanting to be with someone who wasn’t who they said they were.  You know, I might hurt, gotten the wind sucked out of me the last year or so, and have some anger issues but oh my god at least I’m true to myself.  I can’t forget what I figured out above:  those aren’t my issues, those are his.  Why anyone would do such things is not beyond me: it’s right there in front of me.  Without coming out and calling him a lying, cheating, pathetic, insecure, narcissistic, fake, lost fat kid who never grew up and still has Mommy and Daddy issues I’d just rather say he is incapable of intimacy and providing what’s best for me and what I deserve.  He’s looking for my replacement, and I wish him well on that endeavor.  Big breaths, Apryl.  Bigger breaths, Apryl.  The sooner I get over this, the sooner I can be receptive to a better man.  And perhaps in the meantime, it wouldn’t hurt to tweak the screening process a tad as to avoid this shit ever again.

Long pause for coffee, a cigarette, and watch Sadie go pee pee.

Two thoughts struck me during that break.  One, it’s Independence Day.  I should be celebrating that both on a national and personal level.  Two, I take zero accountability for the douchebaggery mentioned above.  Subject 1 has two failed marriages and like five deployments under his belt and I think he won’t have commitment issues?  Where was your brain, woman?!  Subject 2 aka Prince Charming can’t rescue himself or treat himself decently and I think he’s going to do right by me somehow?  Brain, hello, do you fucking work??

And I hate the fact that now I’m the whiny, crying, little victim inside.  Vulnerability is a bitch.  I didn’t even mention the other curveballs life threw that I had zero control over during the last year and a half.  I got to fix this shit.  I can’t change anyone else but I can change my reaction.  Bless their broken hearts.  Bless my broken heart.  Life will tear us down and I guess I was in a position to buy a ticket on the Titanic of love boats.  But I know better and I have to do better.  Better by me.  Better choices for me.  I can’t carry that anger around or else it will consume me.  It already has!  Time to move on and let it go.

I’ll never hear an “I’m sorry” and if I did, I’m not in any place to accept it as authentic.  I have to decide that yesterday is over and it’s really fucking with my today.  “You can’t reach for the stars when you’re tied to yesterday’s regrets.” -Steve Aitchison.

 
I found that last pic the following day. All prayers are answered. 

Sadie & I have been drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes (well, me, not her…& yes, I’m careful to limit her second-hand smoke exposure. Ok screw the political correctness.  We’re sitting on the back porch/rolling in the dew covered grass not giving a crap!) for an hour and a half and scrolling Facebook having our morning discussion re: humanity.  The following is a transcript of our discussion.

Me: “People are still blowing my mind.”  Drink, puff.

Sadie: “Yeah?”

A: “Yep.  Apparently everybody’s on board for gay marriage and changing their damn pictures to rainbows even FURTHER blurring the lines between who was a dating prospect and who wasn’t.” Drink.  Puff.  Drink.

S: “Never quite got your gaydar working right did you, Ma?” Roll.

A: (stink eye) “Well….no.” Puff.  Puff. Drink.

S: “Interesting.  And so, you thought the guys who might ask you out weren’t because they looked too good in skinny pants?”

A: “Sadie, seriously, stop eating the grass.  I have errands to run and can’t let you poop for a few hours.”  Drink.

S:  “Wipe my back hair.”

A:  (wiping back hair as instructed) “See?  THIS is love.  Love is simple.  People complicate a very simple thing.”  Drink.

S:  “What you talking about Willis?”  One more roll in the wet grass.

A:  “You & me.  That’s love.  Me & The Girls.  That’s love.  That bird looking at us, love.  The grass you roll in, love.  The ability to be able to move all my limbs and scoop poop, love.  Brushing your hair, love.  Sniffing my fart, love.  Coffee, duh, obviously the divine loves us to give us that! But people come along with their rituals and religion and suddenly love is a to-do list and must meet certain guidelines.  It isn’t just something they accept as a gift anymore.”

S:  “So the sexy guy in the navy suit, you think he’s going to ask you out?  I think he’s younger than you FYI.  I thought you weren’t doing that anymore.”

A:  “You just complicated love, Sadie.”  Puff.

S:  “Ohhh, yeah, ok I see.”

A:  “No, I totally think he’s gay.  And if anyone has any sense they will snap a ring on it ASAP.  Even here in the deepest most southern place you can go.” Lots of drink and puff.

S:  “Woman, shut up and go get dog food.  I’ll try not to shit in the house.  Deal?”

A:  “Deal.  I love you.” Drink.

S:  “I love you…DUH.”

I woke up at 6:38 am today.  My body did that all by itself.  I smiled.  I was excited for the day.  I thought about going to get some fruit in the employee dining room (EDR, one of the best benefits ever) and then heading to my new office.  OH WAIT!  It’s Sunday.  I don’t go to work today.  It was a sad moment and a happy one: sad to realize I wasn’t going to my new job but happy because I’m so excited about my job.  I went through orientation two days last week and tomorrow (the real Monday, not Sunday faking me out) I get to go to my office and start Public Relations.  I don’t really know what all that means, but I am SUPER excited.  I know it gets to use my writing and my management skills.  I know it feels like everything I’ve done up until now has prepared me for this.  I could NOT be happier or more excited.  I’m nervous and have a little self-doubt creeping in (the “am I good enough?” whispers are starting) but I remind myself I was carefully chosen from a LOT of applicants and tested well enough to land the job.  If I give it 100%, I’m certain I will be just fine.

It’s been 13 years since I had a “first day” at a new job.  And truthfully, I have been scolding myself for stalling those 13 years at the last place.  That does ZERO amount of good.  What’s done is done and perhaps every single moment was exactly as it was supposed to be to land me this opportunity.  Focusing on what I don’t know or haven’t used in a long, long time will be of no benefit.  Instead, I need to remain relaxed, open to new ideas, and just keep this gratitude flowing.  THAT will determine my attitude, which I know is infectious and about 90% of doing a good job.  I’ll have to make a note to drink half the usual amount of coffee tomorrow because if today is any indication, I will be plenty wired on my own.  In the words of my friend Dawn, I’m at 11 and I need to come down to 7.

You know what’s amazing?  Even the days I made triple the salary I’m starting at now, I was never this happy about going to work.  True story.  You *think* you work for that paycheck…until you land your dream job… at a great company… with great benefits…and a super boss.  NOW I know what it feels like to get up and feel blessed with work, not cursed.  So again, maybe those 13 years at the last job set me up to teach me the kinds of valuable lessons you just can’t understand until you go through it.  It creates so much appreciation for this new opportunity.  I’ve thanked the Universe at least ten times and I’ve only been out of a bed for a couple of hours.

Is life perfect?  Nope.  I got some things going on that I have to sort out and make peace with.  Am I going to let it overwhelm or occupy me?  NOT A CHANCE.  They will work themselves out.  Now, what to do on a Sunday Funday…

I loved frayed jeans during adolescence.  I still keep a couple of pair as a wardrobe staple.  But today I looked over at them and realized if I could paint a picture of how I feel inside at this moment, that’s exactly what it would look like.  Hanging by a thread; torn apart in places that serve as a reminder it’s not whole over here.  It’s a nasty feeling, one that’s accompanied by anxiety and hurt.  Last night I issued a nasty and unclassy tirade to an individual I thought deserved every bit of it.  Here’s the funny thing about that:  it feels good for a bit, but then you have to look at yourself in the mirror and ask, “is this who I want to be?”  And that answer was slow coming and very painful, but no.  That’s not the person I want to be.  But that’s what happens when things build up.  Like the frayed jeans, life and people can wear you down if you let them until one day you look over and you are exposed and the wound is palpable.

There’s never an excuse to lose your cool.  Or, let me rephrase that, I have spent years trying to better myself to handle situations without losing my cool.  And these things, they don’t happen overnight.  It wasn’t that I suddenly snapped.  It’s been coming for months.  Toxicity festers and grows if not handled early on.  And I can look back and see a hundred times I should have set boundaries and said, “I refuse to allow this–you’re starting to fray my soul and that’s unacceptable in my life.”  But I didn’t.  So who was that tirade REALLY about?  Me.  I think the answer is me.  No one is perfect but I could have had a backbone long before it came to the point of being downright nasty.  Maybe.  Some people have a hard time listening unless it cuts them deep.  So maybe I’m wrong.  Still, I don’t like giving myself excuses for bad behavior.  It encourages more of the same.  And I have to sleep at night with what I do, not what someone else does.

But, I can’t beat myself up for too long.  I have too much uncertainty and stress going on to spin even further out of control.  Isn’t there a saying about holding onto anger being like drinking poison and expecting it to hurt the other person? [Google update: “Holding onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.”-Buddha] It’s just time to forgive.  Forgive the wrongs of others and forgive myself for acting like a wounded animal in fight or flight mode.  It’s possible that we both just did the best we could with what we had.  It’s even possible on some level that in an effort to love we just tried too hard and refused to give up when we should have called it a done deal much, much sooner.  In fact, while there’s a ton of doubt, I truly believe deep down we tried too hard.  We tried so hard that our individual issues became a source of pain onto the other.  And both of us had so much other stuff going on that stopping long enough to get to the root of the problem wasn’t possible.  And now, the water is very, very muddy.  Spewing more shit into it, didn’t help.  But we did that together.  A joint effort of not protecting a good thing and letting the toxins creep in without ever stopping to clean it up.  And then thinking we could drink from it!!  😦

I want to put good out in the world and get good back.  I’m sorry for contributing to the negative.  Frayed jeans are ok; they definitely have their place.  Hey, maybe I just need to get some breathing room in these wounds so they can heal.  I’m not one that’s good at hiding anyway.  I’d rather be real, open, and honest and take my chances than be someone I’m not.  I want to do better, be better, pass better onto this world.  I have a lot to offer.  I have a lot of growing and learning.  If I am lucky, I have a great many number of years to do that.  I mean at 36 years old, I should have some stuff figured out, but I don’t.  What keeps me going and trying to do better is that feeling that there’s a higher power working it out.  I need to cling to two thoughts: ‘be anxious for nothing” and “be still and know that I am.”  When I forget these things–when we get so busy and caught up in that dirty water–we make mistakes.  We feel we have no power, no control.  The hurt is intense.  And there’s no room for light and love anymore.

So to anyone I may have hurt:  I am sorry.  To myself for hurting so much and not dealing with it responsibly:  I’m sorry.  I read my last post and I can instantly see that I had a lot of issues I should have stepped up and dealt with before it came to an explosion.  I will strive to do better.  I want to have a little grace in my step and hold my head high.  The good news is that I have done that far longer and more often than not in my life.  Too much happiness, friendships, achievements, and given a lot of love over 36 years to let a bad, bad year mess it all up.  So maybe I just needed a reminder.  Maybe I needed a personal inventory of what’s wrong and what’s right.  Like Maya Angelou said, “When you know better, you do better.”

I was in the shower pondering the use in shaving my legs one day this week when I noticed my “date soap” sitting there abandoned.  Now, first off, let me just ask this question: am I the only one who has Date Soap?  Date Soap is the posh, super awesome smelling soap I treasure (made by a friend’s company locally) that is no milkshake, but it will bring some boys to the yard (when combined with the lotion and a smile).  [And no, I never figured that song out, I’m over 35, so forgive me if I used the outdated slang wrong].  It is saved for special occasions, i.e. a date.  It is never to be used casually [unless my friend wants to donate more].  It’s like bringing out the good China but you know, for your armpits and clavicle.

I stared at it and began wondering when I’d have the energy to ever use it again.  Or will I?  I mean, while the Date Soap is powerful, I’m standing there with my hair in a bun [meh, day 3, who cares] not even up for shaving my legs, much less making awkward, meaningless conversation with someone over dinner.  I almost grabbed it and used it “just because.”  But no, one must have standards and convictions.  Oh sure, start in on that “I deserve to love and date myself blah blah blah” horseshit.  That would be like using my guest towels on the hairy legs!  This is the South.  We have codes of ethics and such.  I steadfastly refuse to use the Date Soap for purposes violating the code.  [I also put on my white flip flops and then took them off for the same reasons. However, today they are free! And I will wear them today just because it’s Easter and it is the release of white below the waist! Damn, I’m really excited to go grocery shopping now.]

In all seriousness, the episode with the Date Soap got me thinking.  How much do I keep from myself waiting for Mr. Right to come along?  Let’s be real, I’m 36, single, no kids.  Y’all know I rant about the clock ticking.  I feel it nearly every day.  [Your little family photos and status about love tagging your mates on Facebook just rub it in, FYI. Could you all please stop having babies for a minute]. So the time to prepare is kinda, pretty much, yeah… it’s over.  You either take me as I come, or don’t single dudes.  [And, seeing as the Date Soap is starting to evaporate, I’m taking that as a “don’t”.]  There’s a list of things I’ve come up with that I haven’t done or don’t do waiting for this magical person who I think is going to want to spend the rest of the time we got left together.  I don’t buy furniture.  Well, for one, I’m lazy.  Two, I don’t have the money right now.  Three, I don’t really have a style or haven’t committed to a vision for my bedroom or living room yet.  But anywho, even if I did resolve all that, I don’t think I’d do it.  For years now, I keep thinking that I’ll meet a mate and we’ll end up merging households and then WE will buy furniture together.  [What I’m saying is that the broken chest of drawers is sticking it out until homeboy comes along.]

Another example, I don’t cook even though I’m capable.  When I came back from Italy I started making delightful dinners for myself.  Then my heart shattered into a thousand pieces and I didn’t want to think about Italy (except the wine).  And now that my world has entirely shifted, I work kinda intensely and it’s just easier to heat up a microwave dinner.  And I tell myself there’s no point in cooking homemade [let’s be clear, that mostly means opening a can or box and heating stovetop] meals for one person.  It’s so wasteful.  Or worse, you then end up eating the same meal for 3 days, 2 times a day!  But in the back of my mind there’s a girl whispering, “one day you’ll share a meal with someone again, don’t worry!”  Ha, she’s a tease.

I think this is the beginning of a long list of silliness.  Why wait?  Why wait for this mystery man?  I am already losing days, must they be surrounded by only mediocre soap, furniture, and the 2 Salisbury steak Banquet dinner [that is SO my favorite]?  Come on!  Besides, who wants to meet the crazy dog lady who smells like Tone, has broken furniture, and eats tv dinners?  Lawd, if that doesn’t scream “I’m a hot mess” what does?!  Oh lord, epiphany!  If I don’t use the Date Soap, I might not land a date!  Well, this is quite the conundrum now isn’t it.  Ok, look, I’m going to fetch tuna and individual cups of mashed potatoes [yes, that’s a meal] from Winn Dixie and work this out in my head.  Happy White Clothes Below the Waist Again Day!

p.s. Please don’t take me serious.  This is (mostly) humor.