December 2010

Today, my wrists hurt.  I haven’t been wearing my wrist braces at night because they get uncomfortable, and actually – I don’t want to.  You know why?  Because I’ve been wearing my night guard to bed and I feel like that should be enough.  Right?  I take my medicine, my vitamins, I brush my teeth, I turn down the heat to save a few dollars, I feed the cats – I do enough at bedtime.  And when I forget to wear my night guard?  I get a headache for 3 days from grinding my teeth.  I like the luxury of not doing something I should sometimes, even if it means achy wrists.

I had a dream the other night that terrible things were happening and no one was listening to me, and I started screaming.  Like Sarah Connor why-aren’t-you-listening-to-me-the-terminator-is-coming screaming. 

 And I woke up with this feeling like that was really me, hiding in this “isn’t life wonderful” shell, and it’s perplexed me ever since.  I honestly think my life is wonderful.  The problem is that there are things under the surface that I’m not listening to.  Anger I’m not listening to (as usual) because I think it’s useless to be mad about things I can’t change.  And really, I’d like to make like my dad and put my fist through the drywall about it all, but that’s no good either.  I’d like to list them all here and have you deconstruct them and tell me I’m wrong or tell me I’m right and just take the air right out of them.  But I’m not brave enough to do that.  Instead, I will swallow them and burn them away inside me.  And if my dreams or my body want to remind me of them, that’s fine.  I’ll kill them…eventually.



Last Tuesday I had a date.  I set it up so we’d meet at an Indian restaurant, since I had a craving for chicken tikka masala.  I don’t consider it cynicism that I’ve learned to set up dates at places I want to go anyway, just good preparedness.  It’s hard to be disappointed that a date went poorly when you’re filled with yummy food.

But this date went well!  Hurrah!  I was liking the guy.  I was a little suspicious – I’d never been out on a date with a guy who was “getting divorced” and it seemed he was getting over his wife a little fast – but I figured I could hash that out on subsequent dates.  I was interested in seeing him again and getting more of his story.  When he sent me a text message that night saying he’d had a good time, I thought it was sweet.

The next day I didn’t hear from him, which was fine – I was busy (see next section).  I figured we’d set something up that weekend for next week or the week after.  Then Thursday he started texting a lot.  “Good morning Sunshine!”  “I’ve got a great feeling about today!”  “How was your day, my new friend?”

And I wanted to say, “I’m not your new friend.  I’m just some woman you went out to dinner with, who said she’d go out with you again.  I don’t even know if I like you.  Give me time!”

Although I tried to get my psychic messages over to him, they didn’t arrive.  Oh, but more texts did.  So I called him Sunday night and offered sweetly that we might want to take things slowly, what with his situation and all.  He not only agreed, but assured me he had no interest in having a girlfriend whatsoever (I was a little taken aback but then I remembered one couldn’t be the girlfriend of a married man anyway – and I wouldn’t want to try).  I was relieved.  We said we’d e-mail this week.

The next morning I got a text message saying he was glad we cleared that up.   Arrrrgh!


Wednesday night, I auditioned for a local musical.  I was excited and nervous and showed up 15 minutes early.  There was only one other girl there when the auditions started, so we alternated the singing, monologues and readings.  I was surprised that I liked the character readings much more than the singing.  All-in-all, it was a great time just trying things out and stretching my creative legs.

They hadn’t had enough people audition for call backs, so they were going to hold more auditions and get back to us this week.  I realized, however, that I can’t do the musical anyway: there are 30-someodd rehearsals in the next two months, all late night.  I thought I’d be the tiniest bit resentful, but I’m not.  It made me realize that right now, being a mother is my first priority, and my preferred priority.  I’d hate having someone else tuck J into bed three or four nights a week.  It was reassuring, actually.  I haven’t lost my creativity; I’m just putting it in the right places.  It actually made me more eager to write, since that fits better with life as it is right now.


Although the time commitment for a musical was too much, on the other hand I’m not making enough time for fun stuff like going out dancing in the city.  I went out Friday night and had the most amazing time.  I loved it.  I more than loved it – I realized, with some silliness, that dressing up dramatically and dancing to Chris’ sets in a goth club makes me feel very much at home.  Although I feel like I should leave the dancing to the college kids, I love it too much.  And they probably need someone to learn from anyway…ha ha.   Honestly, I think I think I’m older than I am.  It’s been a lifelong affliction…acting older and more reserved than I am.

Someone there told me that he has a girlfriend in the same town where I live, and I realized that I’d come to expect that no one in the city would ever come out to where I live (45 minutes away) to see me.  Now I know I was selling myself short.  I don’t connect with the suburban guys around here – I don’t want to.  I don’t want to be with anyone who I can’t bring out dancing without feeling embarrassed.  I want someone a little twisted.


Which brings us back to the poor date guy.  I don’t think he’s got a chance anymore, actually.  I deleted my online dating profile entirely.  I’ve decided to focus on the things that make me happy, not the shoulds.   The wants.  I should be performing?  Only if I can be a mom first, because that’s what I want to do at the end of the day.  I should date someone I can settle down with?  I don’t want to!  I’d rather be alone and happily dancing, raising J and writing, than settle – in any way.  Whatever I have, it must be for me.  The real me.  The silly, pretty, corseted, laughing, dancing me.

You are so lucky I haven’t been blogging.  I had so much on my mind, I would have sounded like a neurotic if I posted it all here.  But now we get to the conclusion:

Life is good.

Do you have any idea how awesome that is?  Let it sink in a little.  Because my “life is good” is not the “life is good” of a 25-year-old guy who likes to surf or a 50-year-old who won $20 on a lottery ticket.  My “life is good” is so much bigger than that.

My son has met his bio mom and they are cool.  COOL.  And he met his half-brother and he likes him, and isn’t jealous of him.  He’s less anxious and I can see the worry leaving his body in the tiniest trails of relief.  I talked to my dad, and he asked me how my cats were, which is practically a miracle after our long silence.  I have amazing friends, some of whom I brought homemade cookies to at Thanksgiving, and hugged, and reveled in their love and conversation.  I have a great apartment in a town where I hope to stay for just about the next decade, which is huge for me.  I have a yule tree in the living room that’s decorated brilliantly in every color imaginable, and I didn’t get OCD about it at all this year, and my son and I had a fantastic time decorating it.  I have a DATE next week.  I’m auditioning for a show next week. 

I am psyched and thrilled and only a little bit scared about all these things.

Life is good.