It probably shouldn't have come as a surprise, but it did. I'm not always as bright as I'd like to believe that I am.
Ending a twenty-three-year relationship causes a domino effect that impacts nearly every aspect of one's being. There are parts of me that I wasn't consciously aware of until they were thrown out of whack and then they began to re-calibrate and search for a new rhythm. Those unfamiliar pieces are incredibly distracting because they suddenly require attention and care. It's like waking up to find you have another arm or leg or a box full of kittens to take care of. Your wardrobe no longer fits properly and you're chasing demons in every direction.
It took years to make the decision to end a relationship that had spanned more than twenty years. It provided great times and babies and love. There was clear purpose and a plan. There was no fear of insufficient funds or doubt about the future. There was only contented happiness and security.
Things change. That's the simple truth. People change. That's also true. As I mature, I'm willing less willing to sacrifice my happiness and sense of right/wrong in order to keep the peace. To hell with the peace. There is no peace if I'm accepting less than I need/deserve in order to make someone else happy. That's crazy.
There is no blame. There is only here, where my decisions have brought me. This place is chaotic.
I find myself unable to commit to anything. Not a single thing - except the unending love for my children. Beyond that, I'm a loose cannon. I've had three crappy jobs in the past four months, each of them unsatisfying in different ways; poor pay, lack of challenge, crappy hours, ignoramus business owners, etc. You get the idea. Some of that is symptomatic of living on this island, but I take responsibility for a portion of it, too. I'm all over the place.
Let me share just one example. On my way to work Friday - which currently involves sitting at a desk in an air-conditioned office with a micromanaging, narcissist female boss who doesn't remember the direction she so specifically dished out four hours prior - I stopped at a newly-opened Starbucks because I saw an ad for managers (I'm not kidding). The place was packed with loud tourists, so I left. Then I swung into the delicious French cafe where my daughter works to shamelessly beg for a job while picking up an iced coffee. I was hoping to find a new job on the spot at almost any location and never return to the black hole that is currently my job.
Stop right there.
The Starbucks job and the cafe job would 1) pay less than my current situation; 2) involve dealing with the public, which probably isn't wise at this point in my evolution because I feel reckless; and 3) require working holidays, which we all know is unacceptable. So why did I do it? Good question.
I am unable to commit to a damn thing right now. I'd seriously cherish a job driving a garbage truck, a mail truck, or the mosquito truck. I'd jump at the opportunity to work in a bakery or prep food in a restaurant kitchen. I'd restock books at a library (if we had one that was bigger than a trailer) or perform data entry from my laptop. I'd walk dogs, house-sit, paint interiors, or care for plants in an outdoor nursery.
I just noticed a commonality among those positions. Did you see it? NOT dealing with others. (This is why I blog. It's really not for you, dear reader. It helps me to think and clear the mental cobwebs. Don't take it personally.) I don't want to be forced to interact and engage. Bam!
Why am I feeling so anti-social? I think it gets back to the first paragraph. I'm suddenly aware of pieces of me that are currently out-of-whack and until I figure out where they fit, I'm unwilling (or incapable) of dealing with other people's drama or lack of manners. I need to focus on me. That's all. I don't have space for anyone else right now. I just want to spend time rebuilding me.
So,.....I begin the search for a job in which I don't have to talk to anyone or be nice/cheerful/smiling when I'd rather be silent and think.
Suggestions and leads most welcome.
Sunday, August 7, 2016
Wednesday, July 6, 2016
Reunited
Great news came my way yesterday and I'm still grinning. Are you ready to hear it? Brace yourself for unprecedented happiness and joy.
My son's aircraft carrier - the USS Harry S Truman - is on its way back to home port from the Mediterranean, where it's been bombing the hell out of ISIS targets for the past nine months. Zak's on his way back to Norfolk!!!!!!
I've not seen his handsome face since late October 2015 when he and his beautiful girlfriend came home for a short visit. I've not heard my son's voice since early November when he called from the pier before the ship left port. I tried to be tough as I told him that it wouldn't be that bad, that time would go quickly, and that his six-year commitment to Uncle Sam was almost over. I realize now that I spoke those words for my benefit as much as his. I tried not to cry because he needed me to be strong, but I failed. We said goodbye through tears and hearing the call drop made my heart break. I've not heard his voice since then.
We go nearly a year - sometimes more than that - without being able to talk to/see him, so on those rare occasions when we do, it's pretty damn emotional for me. Peanut might be 24 years old, but he's still my baby boy and it hurts to go all the way around the sun without having him in my daily life. It's so great when I do get the opportunity to see him, but those visits are always very short. When they come to the inevitable screeching halt, I'm a sorry, hot mess. His last visit was no exception.
The day Zak and Kaley were scheduled to fly back to Norfolk so that he could report to the ship, I was physically ill and unable to hold back the tears...before they were even to the table for breakfast. Rather than hanging out while they packed and then waving from the front yard as they drove away - like a normal mom would have done - I said my tearful goodbye and hit the road. I drove and sobbed and ached on my own until they were gone, then I went home and held Lauren tightly before going to bed to cry myself to sleep.
Pathetic? Perhaps to some of you, but I happen to adore my children. I love being around them, listening to them, and laughing with them. Enduring a year or more without either of them is truly painful. The infrequent reunions are sweet, but the unavoidable goodbyes hurt worse each time.
Hopefully, that's about to change! I think this should be Peanut's last lengthy deployment. His enlistment ends in February 2017, so with the exception of a few short deployments between now and then, he should be able to keep both feet on solid ground, which means that I should be able to hear his voice on the phone and one day soon (not soon enough), I'll be able to wrap my arms around him again.
I'm proud of you, Peanut. I love you and can't wait to see your cute little face.
My son's aircraft carrier - the USS Harry S Truman - is on its way back to home port from the Mediterranean, where it's been bombing the hell out of ISIS targets for the past nine months. Zak's on his way back to Norfolk!!!!!!
I've not seen his handsome face since late October 2015 when he and his beautiful girlfriend came home for a short visit. I've not heard my son's voice since early November when he called from the pier before the ship left port. I tried to be tough as I told him that it wouldn't be that bad, that time would go quickly, and that his six-year commitment to Uncle Sam was almost over. I realize now that I spoke those words for my benefit as much as his. I tried not to cry because he needed me to be strong, but I failed. We said goodbye through tears and hearing the call drop made my heart break. I've not heard his voice since then.
We go nearly a year - sometimes more than that - without being able to talk to/see him, so on those rare occasions when we do, it's pretty damn emotional for me. Peanut might be 24 years old, but he's still my baby boy and it hurts to go all the way around the sun without having him in my daily life. It's so great when I do get the opportunity to see him, but those visits are always very short. When they come to the inevitable screeching halt, I'm a sorry, hot mess. His last visit was no exception.
The day Zak and Kaley were scheduled to fly back to Norfolk so that he could report to the ship, I was physically ill and unable to hold back the tears...before they were even to the table for breakfast. Rather than hanging out while they packed and then waving from the front yard as they drove away - like a normal mom would have done - I said my tearful goodbye and hit the road. I drove and sobbed and ached on my own until they were gone, then I went home and held Lauren tightly before going to bed to cry myself to sleep.
Pathetic? Perhaps to some of you, but I happen to adore my children. I love being around them, listening to them, and laughing with them. Enduring a year or more without either of them is truly painful. The infrequent reunions are sweet, but the unavoidable goodbyes hurt worse each time.
Hopefully, that's about to change! I think this should be Peanut's last lengthy deployment. His enlistment ends in February 2017, so with the exception of a few short deployments between now and then, he should be able to keep both feet on solid ground, which means that I should be able to hear his voice on the phone and one day soon (not soon enough), I'll be able to wrap my arms around him again.
I'm proud of you, Peanut. I love you and can't wait to see your cute little face.
Wednesday, June 29, 2016
Freedom
The past two weeks have been a roller coaster of ups and downs, unpredictably alternating between exhilaration and stomach-churning. It's not surprising, really, when you consider that twenty-three years of something that was once quite wonderful came to an official end. Endings can be difficult and this one certainly fell into that category. I mourned that ending, but that, too, is over.
After getting furloughed in early May, I spent the next six weeks in a professional funk. Unable to find a full-time position with benefits, I took whatever jobs I could find to keep money coming in. There are these pesky things called bills that don't stop coming in just because you lose your job. The landlord and the car insurance folks don't care about your employment status. They want their damn money, honey. So, I kept telling myself, "Chin up, girl, it's only temporary", while I worked two part-time jobs that I didn't love. In fact, I'll admit that I really disliked one of them, but it was money and a momma does what a momma has to do. Even my sweet baby girl found a full-time job. (When we figured out that she was earning more at 17 yrs old than I could make at 48, I really felt good about myself.) After a particularly bad day at the restaurant, when I came home with empty pockets because not a single beer drinker came in, I was just plain worried that we might end up living in our car. I didn't sleep much that night.
Monday morning, before I left for work, I applied online to an ad on Craig's List. The owner of the company called later that afternoon, but I wasn't able to answer because I was looking at an empty restaurant, wondering how Lauren, Bear, and I would all live in my car. Thankfully, the night was busy and I made great money and went home feeling more positive about our future. I returned the call on Tuesday morning and was asked to interview.
I'm proud to say that I accepted a new job with a nice little business about ten miles from home. I'm excited to go back to a professional setting and work with professional people. The pay can't compare to federal government pay in DC, of course, but it's good for the Keys. The best part is that it's consistent and reliable and there's potential for growth. (I'm not talking about my dress size, either. That's a given.) We will not have to live in a car!
In celebration of my new gig, I dumped the crappiest of my part-time jobs toute suite. Sayonara. Adios. Au Revoir. Good riddance. That felt really good. I wanted to quit twice, just to experience the joy more fully, but they wouldn't take my call. Huh. Odd.
So I go into the 4th of July weekend full of positivity and hope for the future. On this Independence Day, my freedom has new meaning. My life has new meaning. I am free. I am independent. Every choice I make will be my own. I will do only what I want to do. If it makes me unhappy, I just won't do it. What a fucking concept!!!
Embrace your personal freedom, readers!!! Celebrate Independence Day with a bang. (You may interpret that however your little ole heart desires.)
After getting furloughed in early May, I spent the next six weeks in a professional funk. Unable to find a full-time position with benefits, I took whatever jobs I could find to keep money coming in. There are these pesky things called bills that don't stop coming in just because you lose your job. The landlord and the car insurance folks don't care about your employment status. They want their damn money, honey. So, I kept telling myself, "Chin up, girl, it's only temporary", while I worked two part-time jobs that I didn't love. In fact, I'll admit that I really disliked one of them, but it was money and a momma does what a momma has to do. Even my sweet baby girl found a full-time job. (When we figured out that she was earning more at 17 yrs old than I could make at 48, I really felt good about myself.) After a particularly bad day at the restaurant, when I came home with empty pockets because not a single beer drinker came in, I was just plain worried that we might end up living in our car. I didn't sleep much that night.
Monday morning, before I left for work, I applied online to an ad on Craig's List. The owner of the company called later that afternoon, but I wasn't able to answer because I was looking at an empty restaurant, wondering how Lauren, Bear, and I would all live in my car. Thankfully, the night was busy and I made great money and went home feeling more positive about our future. I returned the call on Tuesday morning and was asked to interview.
I'm proud to say that I accepted a new job with a nice little business about ten miles from home. I'm excited to go back to a professional setting and work with professional people. The pay can't compare to federal government pay in DC, of course, but it's good for the Keys. The best part is that it's consistent and reliable and there's potential for growth. (I'm not talking about my dress size, either. That's a given.) We will not have to live in a car!
In celebration of my new gig, I dumped the crappiest of my part-time jobs toute suite. Sayonara. Adios. Au Revoir. Good riddance. That felt really good. I wanted to quit twice, just to experience the joy more fully, but they wouldn't take my call. Huh. Odd.
So I go into the 4th of July weekend full of positivity and hope for the future. On this Independence Day, my freedom has new meaning. My life has new meaning. I am free. I am independent. Every choice I make will be my own. I will do only what I want to do. If it makes me unhappy, I just won't do it. What a fucking concept!!!
Embrace your personal freedom, readers!!! Celebrate Independence Day with a bang. (You may interpret that however your little ole heart desires.)
Friday, June 17, 2016
Tears from above
Yesterday, I did one of the hardest things I've ever done. I divorced the man to whom I'd been married for most of my adult life. A man in whom I'd placed all my trust, love, and devotion. When we got married, I knew it would be forever because we both understood the importance of working hard to keep a relationship strong and healthy.
Unlike all of the other couples waiting in the courtroom for their time before the magistrate, we sat next to each other. We waited together while others exchanged sneering, snarling looks across the room. We took turns crying while the other held it together.
When called to the front of the court room, we stood next to each other at the podium, rather than on opposite sides of the aisle. We provided the court with a dissolution agreement. Nothing was being disputed; there wasn't anything for the judge to sort out or settle.
"Ms. Lavell, since you were the petitioner, will you please tell the court why this marriage can't be saved?"
I began to cry. "Not without crying."
The judge looked like she, too, might cry. Doug was way ahead of her. "Irreconcilable differences?" she asked with a sad smile.
I nodded.
Less than two minutes later, it was over. The judge told us that sometimes people turn out to be better friends after divorce than they were while married. We walked out together, just as we'd walked in.
Outside the courthouse, we were greeted with a torrential downpour. I'd left my car windows open. My cloth seat was a soggy, wet sponge upon which I sat while I cried all the way home with the windows still open.
Unlike all of the other couples waiting in the courtroom for their time before the magistrate, we sat next to each other. We waited together while others exchanged sneering, snarling looks across the room. We took turns crying while the other held it together.
When called to the front of the court room, we stood next to each other at the podium, rather than on opposite sides of the aisle. We provided the court with a dissolution agreement. Nothing was being disputed; there wasn't anything for the judge to sort out or settle.
"Ms. Lavell, since you were the petitioner, will you please tell the court why this marriage can't be saved?"
I began to cry. "Not without crying."
The judge looked like she, too, might cry. Doug was way ahead of her. "Irreconcilable differences?" she asked with a sad smile.
I nodded.
Less than two minutes later, it was over. The judge told us that sometimes people turn out to be better friends after divorce than they were while married. We walked out together, just as we'd walked in.
Outside the courthouse, we were greeted with a torrential downpour. I'd left my car windows open. My cloth seat was a soggy, wet sponge upon which I sat while I cried all the way home with the windows still open.
Saturday, June 11, 2016
Eire!
I've done a wee bit of attitude adjusting since my last post, although rest assured I still have one, but today it's more positive than it was a week or so ago. That's due in part to Lauren who always brightens my day with her unconditional, adoring love and cuteness. Some is due to friends near and far who tickle my funny bone, which we all know is my favorite cure for whatever ails. Then there's Ireland. She's there, waiting for my inevitable return.
Lauren and I have been tossing around the idea of when to go. I'm working two part-time jobs (while faithfully searching for a full-time one with benefits), and now that school is out, she too is working two jobs. While we'd really like to touch down in the Motherland this summer, it's just not a realistic goal. We talked about going at Christmastime, but that presents a host of other challenges that make it less than ideal. So....we've settled on a spring break visit!!
March 2017 = Ireland
Buy the t-shirt while they last. It promises to be one hell of an adventure!! It will be our last trip of her high school years. Whoa. That in and of itself is a milestone, but add to that recipe for greatness that we're doing it in the Emerald Isle and shazam!
But that's not all!
We're going to first fly to Italy or Spain or France or (insert name of EU country here), buy euro-rail passes, and explore some new places for a few days...just to broaden our horizons and build the anticipation. Then we'll fly to Eire (Ireland) to be cradled in her green embrace.
With that beautiful daydream in mind, I'm off to sling fish sandwiches and beers all weekend in a dive by the sea. We can't go without the dough.
Have a helluva great weekend, readers. May you dream big and bold!
Lauren and I have been tossing around the idea of when to go. I'm working two part-time jobs (while faithfully searching for a full-time one with benefits), and now that school is out, she too is working two jobs. While we'd really like to touch down in the Motherland this summer, it's just not a realistic goal. We talked about going at Christmastime, but that presents a host of other challenges that make it less than ideal. So....we've settled on a spring break visit!!
March 2017 = Ireland
Buy the t-shirt while they last. It promises to be one hell of an adventure!! It will be our last trip of her high school years. Whoa. That in and of itself is a milestone, but add to that recipe for greatness that we're doing it in the Emerald Isle and shazam!
But that's not all!
We're going to first fly to Italy or Spain or France or (insert name of EU country here), buy euro-rail passes, and explore some new places for a few days...just to broaden our horizons and build the anticipation. Then we'll fly to Eire (Ireland) to be cradled in her green embrace.
With that beautiful daydream in mind, I'm off to sling fish sandwiches and beers all weekend in a dive by the sea. We can't go without the dough.
Have a helluva great weekend, readers. May you dream big and bold!
Tuesday, May 31, 2016
The Fish Bowl
I grew up in what I thought was a small town. Looking back, it wasn't really that small. For those of you unfamiliar with my hometown of BrockVegas, NY, please bear with me while I toss out names of local businesses. Not knowing them won't really impact your ability to understand my rant any more than usual. My rants are often unclear. Buckle up. This one could be a doozy.
Back to my hometown; We considered it small. Sure you'd run into people you knew at Wegmans, Canal Side, or Friendly's, but everyone enjoyed a decent measure of privacy. We learned to strategically plan excursions to avoid those we didn't want to bump into. You could hold a position at one business and apply for one at another without the owners 1) knowing each other, and 2) discussing who was more entitled to/in need of your employment. For example, if while working for Lakeside Memorial Hospital, I applied for a position at Brockport HS, my supervisor at the hospital wouldn't get a phone call the minute my application hit the principal's desk. It just didn't/doesn't work that way.
Living and working in the Florida Keys - especially Islamorada - is completely different. Not for the first time since moving here, did I discover that other people know more about my life than I do. (In case you're on the fence about that particular phenomenon, it's not a pleasant experience.) If you're familiar with Kenny Chesney's song, "Welcome To The Fish Bowl", then you've been afforded a brief glimpse into island life and this aspect of it sucks moose balls. (Also not a pleasant experience, based on what I've read.)
Do you know what frosts my ass more than other people making decisions that affect my livelihood without my input/ability to choose what's best for me? I'll wait while you guess.
Time's up. What's worse is not being able to bitch about it in my own damn blog! I'm not free to express myself because exposing this type of ridiculous behavior will surely result in a series of closed doors and I can guarantee that within fifteen minutes of posting this, the repercussions would begin. I can't afford that right now, so I'll keep my big, Irish pie hole shut.
Just wait for the next book....
Do you know what frosts my ass more than other people making decisions that affect my livelihood without my input/ability to choose what's best for me? I'll wait while you guess.
Time's up. What's worse is not being able to bitch about it in my own damn blog! I'm not free to express myself because exposing this type of ridiculous behavior will surely result in a series of closed doors and I can guarantee that within fifteen minutes of posting this, the repercussions would begin. I can't afford that right now, so I'll keep my big, Irish pie hole shut.
Just wait for the next book....
Saturday, May 21, 2016
The Pickle Barrel
I read somewhere that when everything seems to be going wrong, great things are on the horizon. What's happening is that old energy is clearing out so that new energy can enter. I've no idea if that's true, but I sure as hell hope so, because lots of things just don't seem to be going right lately. I know, I know. Lots of people have it a lot worse than I do, and I should be counting my blessings instead of complaining.
I'm not actually complaining, though. I'm noticing and commenting on what's happening. How else to share my thoughts with you?
I'm sure your reason for stopping by my blog is to be entertained - no one likes a Debbie Downer - but this is my blog and you readers can't always have it your way. This isn't Burger King. I usually make an effort to throw a giggle or two your way, but not so much today. I'll do better with the next post, but for now, just let me get this crap off my chest.
- My living arrangements are troublesome because I know that soon Lauren and I will need to find another place to live. The lease on this place is up on October 1st, so we'll be searching for another home at the height of the season...along with the snow birds...when rent costs are jacked up because of the high demand. It weighs heavily on my mind.
- I lost my job in early May, and have been told by a potential employer that I'm "over qualified". That's ridiculous. What am I supposed to do? Dumb down my resume and pretend that I don't know how to do the things that I'm really good at? I've found a part-time job two days a week...yeah. That job will maybe buy groceries, but nothing more.
- I'm still waiting to be paid a month's wages from the last job. None of us have been paid. One former colleague has filed a lawsuit and others have gone to the media with our story. I've contacted the Department of Labor, but still no relief. It's insane to think that our staff could go six weeks without getting paid - and still go to work every day because we believed in our mission - and here we are three weeks after being furloughed, and we still haven't been paid.
- There's the car situation, caused by the lady who ran a red light an hit Lauren. (What really matters is that my baby girl wasn't hurt. The rest will sort itself out.)
- Then there's the damn lake house that I rented in Old Forge for Memorial Day Weekend to celebrate my mom's 80th birthday. We can't afford to go now. Although the house is already paid for, we'd still have to pay airfare, rental car, gas, and food. I can't use the house, but I can't find someone to take off my hands. Money down the drain makes me cranky. Especially now.
There's more, but you get the idea. I'm almost always a happy-go-lucky person who doesn't ever feel stressed. I used to say, "I don't believe in stress." I'm always the one reminding others to be patient because it'll all work out. Hmmm.
I guess it's my turn in the pickle barrel.
I typically don't allow myself to dwell on these obstacles, but today they seem overwhelming. I'm a strong woman. I can do what needs to be done to provide for my daughter and myself, but sometimes it would be nice not to HAVE to be strong all the damn time. Sometimes, I think I'd like to be able to lay these problems down and let someone else be strong for a while.
Enough bitching. Get back to your weekend chores and be thankful you have all that you do. Or else.
I'm not actually complaining, though. I'm noticing and commenting on what's happening. How else to share my thoughts with you?
I'm sure your reason for stopping by my blog is to be entertained - no one likes a Debbie Downer - but this is my blog and you readers can't always have it your way. This isn't Burger King. I usually make an effort to throw a giggle or two your way, but not so much today. I'll do better with the next post, but for now, just let me get this crap off my chest.
- My living arrangements are troublesome because I know that soon Lauren and I will need to find another place to live. The lease on this place is up on October 1st, so we'll be searching for another home at the height of the season...along with the snow birds...when rent costs are jacked up because of the high demand. It weighs heavily on my mind.
- I lost my job in early May, and have been told by a potential employer that I'm "over qualified". That's ridiculous. What am I supposed to do? Dumb down my resume and pretend that I don't know how to do the things that I'm really good at? I've found a part-time job two days a week...yeah. That job will maybe buy groceries, but nothing more.
- I'm still waiting to be paid a month's wages from the last job. None of us have been paid. One former colleague has filed a lawsuit and others have gone to the media with our story. I've contacted the Department of Labor, but still no relief. It's insane to think that our staff could go six weeks without getting paid - and still go to work every day because we believed in our mission - and here we are three weeks after being furloughed, and we still haven't been paid.
- There's the car situation, caused by the lady who ran a red light an hit Lauren. (What really matters is that my baby girl wasn't hurt. The rest will sort itself out.)
- Then there's the damn lake house that I rented in Old Forge for Memorial Day Weekend to celebrate my mom's 80th birthday. We can't afford to go now. Although the house is already paid for, we'd still have to pay airfare, rental car, gas, and food. I can't use the house, but I can't find someone to take off my hands. Money down the drain makes me cranky. Especially now.
There's more, but you get the idea. I'm almost always a happy-go-lucky person who doesn't ever feel stressed. I used to say, "I don't believe in stress." I'm always the one reminding others to be patient because it'll all work out. Hmmm.
I guess it's my turn in the pickle barrel.
I typically don't allow myself to dwell on these obstacles, but today they seem overwhelming. I'm a strong woman. I can do what needs to be done to provide for my daughter and myself, but sometimes it would be nice not to HAVE to be strong all the damn time. Sometimes, I think I'd like to be able to lay these problems down and let someone else be strong for a while.
Enough bitching. Get back to your weekend chores and be thankful you have all that you do. Or else.
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