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The Pits of October

October used to be my favorite month, but now it bothers me. Five years ago this week marks the beginning of the end with my ex-husband. It’s the month my ex-husband and I met (in 2000), the month we were engaged (in 2006), the month we got married (in 2007), and it is also the month when everything ended (in 2017). Here we are again in October. I hate October. This October brought my teenage daughter having surgery, spending entirely too much shared space with my ex, having a horrible reaction to poison ivy, and ending up on prescription steroids (only to experience all the side effects that go along with that).

I’m sensitive to my surroundings – who I associate with, the food I eat, what I drink, and the medications I take. I know this and I live my life accordingly so I can feel my best each day. I avoid sweets (including sugary drinks) and fast food, I usually work out regularly, and I limit medication I take because, from past experience, it doesn’t end well when I have too much of anything. My medicine intake is limited to seasonal allergy medicine, occasional ibuprofen (for a headache), and a daily probiotic. If I don’t pay attention to what goes into my guts, I always pay the price.

I desperately needed to destress after spending consecutive days with my ex as our daughter recovered from surgery. I took care of her as she recovered at home, worked at home, cared for my son, and took care of my ongoing awful poison ivy reaction. The stress of being around my ex was enough to make me not feel well, let alone all of the other variables mixed in. I found myself slipping back into my old ways. I was disassociating – going through the motions, where I’m there but not fully there. I was walking on eggshells – watching what I said so I didn’t invoke a negative response from him. It was hard to go back to that “place”.

I was finally looking forward to a calm weekend on my own. Both kids went with their dad over the weekend since my daughter was finally feeling strong enough to travel in a car. Once I dropped my kids off for the weekend, I picked up some Indian food and headed home to stuff my face in peace while I caught up on some shows on HULU. I was going to sleep in and simply relax for the weekend without worrying about anyone else.

That Friday evening, free of all responsibilities, I happily ate my spicy Indian food and started watching an episode of a show. The food was so satisfying. I finished the whole plate. Toward the end of my hour-long show, my stomach started to make noises.

Oh no.

I made the unavoidable trip to the bathroom, with stomach pains so intense I wasn’t sure what kind of sick was going to be. I was in there for a very very long time. I’d exit the bathroom, and turn right around and go back in. Apparently, eating Indian food after lots of stress and being on new steroid medication was not the best idea. It was miserable. On top of it all, I was still itchy from the poison ivy rash. My nerves were shot. My stomach was shot. My hope for feeling good ever again was just shot.

The next day was a slow start. I didn’t make it to the shower until about 2 pm. Everything I tried to do was a challenge. I laid on the couch for the majority of the day. Somehow I mustered up the energy around 5 pm to go to Target since I needed so many little healthcare-related things. After Target, I was starving. I had barely eaten all day. I decided that chicken noodle soup and a Mediterranean bowl from Panera should be okay. I picked it up as carry out.

It wasn’t okay.

It was like deja vu from the night before. Not long after I finished my meal, I was howling in pain in the bathroom again. Thank God I was all alone. This time it was clear that the spice from the Indian food had exited and burnt the literal shit out of my rear end. I was mortified, winded, and feeling more hopeless than the night before.

This was not a relaxing weekend. Not at all.

That night was the first night I slept through the night without constant itching. Hurrah, I was less itchy from the poison ivy rash, but the downside was my stomach hated me and I was going to have raging hemorrhoids for the foreseeable future.

On Sunday, it took me just as long to get moving as it did on Saturday. I finally got the strength to go to the grocery store and I bought as many sensitive-stomach-friendly foods as I could find. I came home and made ground turkey and rice for dinner. No more food indulgences for me, not until my body has recovered from all the built up stress and medication.

Today I returned to work after more than a week of caring for my family and myself. I feel slow and tired. The pits of October is halfway over and thank God for that.

Stifle Me Not

Single Mom Weekend

It was a busy weekend without my kids, and I did practically nothing exciting. Really. The much-needed dating hiatus has started, along with napping season. Yes, cooler weather = naps whenever possible.

On Friday night, I handed my children over to their father at our usual meeting spot. My 7 year old son is not interested in long good-byes, he was fully engaged in his handheld videogame. I got a hug followed by a quick “love you” and complete detachment. My 13 year old daughter took entirely too long to move her belongings from one car to the other while she squealed with excitement about seeing her dad’s dog in the backseat of his truck. She gave me hug with whatever lovely teenager words she chose to grace me with at departure. I still don’t know what she said. Teen speak. I spoke it once myself, but lost my touch once I aged 20+ more years.

I went to meet my long lost friend at a Mediterranean restaurant nearby. She and I had worked together at a few different jobs over the years. Now that we no longer work together, we occasionally meet up for dinner, swap stories, and then don’t see each other for another 6 months. I went in, got a table, and ordered a glass of wine and an appetizer. One drink was my limit since I was driving back home half an hour away. She made her appearance, we caught up, ordered food, caught up more, and went home. I went home, watched a show on HULU, and went to bed.

My next morning consisted of getting up early for a lovely mammogram and some blood work. Not the ideal thing to do on a Saturday morning, but at least I got it done. That afternoon I got some new tires put on my car. Heck yea! It was a Saturday full of adulting activities!

After the very boring morning and afternoon, I went shopping for a little bit. Finally, some me time. My sister-in-law texted me while I was out and invited me over for dinner. I picked up some wine and headed over to their house to hang out. My niece is 4 years old and my nephew is 3 months old, so it was basically us hanging out chatting and trying to talk in between kid interruptions. My brother made burgers and we had some wine.

I have a decent relationship with alcohol. I can have one drink and be fine. I know my limits, especially when I’m driving. I can have two drinks if I’m eating. I can have more if I’m going absolutely nowhere. Although, I detest hangovers, so I rarely ever go over three drinks even if I’m home alone. The headache in the morning is just not worth it.

So that night I had about two drinks, plus I had a burger and fries. They were good-sized glasses of wine. I was definitely feeling relaxed and chatty, but I stopped after that and had some water. After a little bit, my nephew was ready for bed, and I could tell my brother and sister-in-law were tired. So I bid my farewells and ventured to my car for my 10-minute drive home. The majority of the drive is one long road, a straight shot to my neighborhood. I wasn’t sleepy, and I felt fine to drive. It was only about 8 pm.

It was a lovely evening. The cool night autumn air was refreshing. I drove out of my brother’s neighborhood and turned onto the main road that was a straight shot to my neighborhood. I was going the speed limit, I was in a good mood, and I was halfway home… I couldn’t wait to put on comfy clothes and glasses and snuggle up on my couch. As I went through a green light, I noticed lots of cones… and sheriff? … and lines of cars?


My heart sunk. I had nowhere to go. I had to go through it. There was no warning to turn a different way. Here I was, 43-years old and I’m going to jail for drinking with my 3-month old nephew on burger night.

I unwrapped a piece of peppermint gum, but I had to pull up and didn’t want to appear suspicious with peppermint aroma filling my car, so I stuffed the dry piece of gum into the side of my seat before the officer approached my window. I rolled it down, he asked if I’d been drinking, I said no. He asked for my driver’s license, I gave it to him.

He shined his flashlight around my car and onto my license plate. My heart sunk down into the pits of my guts. I kept my mouth closed as he handed back my driver’s license, and bid me good night. I said thank you, and rolled my window up.


I get it. I get why they have those checkpoints, but OH FOR THE EVERLOVNG CRAP! Nothing like topping off my very responsible adult weekend with a DUI checkpoint. I got a mammogram and new tires, had some wine, and thought I was going to jail. Oy vey!

I wasn’t the least bit nervous until I made it past the checkpoint, and after I drove off I felt like I might crash into the nearest telephone pole just because my nerves were shot. I’ve never been so happy to pull into my garage in all my life. I can’t believe I’ve gone this long in life and have never encountered a DUI checkpoint before. I guess that’ll be the last time I do a heavy pour of wine at my brother’s house when I have to drive home.

Stifle Me Not

Weak Moment

I had a weak moment.

I took my kids on a beach vacation. It was nice weather. Our flights (there and back) were delayed quite a bit, but overall we had a nice trip. We live in the north, so basking in some much-needed warm southern sunshine was such a treat. I have never taken my kids on vacation by myself. I flew one place with them last year (for a funeral), but we met up with other family members, so I wasn’t all alone as the only adult. This time I was the primary adult, and it was fine. Everything went just fine.

Everything was fine, until mid-week, after observing family after family with kids, a wife, and a husband. I remember those days – having a husband. The husband has certain roles – carry the heavy luggage, drive, watch one kid while the other one preoccupies your time, grill food, etc.

After watching so many families, I had that feeling return: loneliness and longing for a partner in crime. So what did I do? Yep, I fired up the dating app again.

This hasn’t worked out well in the past, so you’d think I would learn my lesson by now…

I started chatting with one eligible bachelor who seemed very nice. We chatted for four days, and then it dwindled. Maybe because I returned back to my usual life? I don’t know. The rush from the first conversations on a dating app is mind-boggling. And it’s amazing how it can fizzle out so quickly.

When I’m home and in my typical routine, I do not want for anything or anyone. Even when my kids go visit their dad, I truly enjoy the extra peace and quiet to myself. Occasionally I’ll get restless, but not life-changing I-Need-a-Man-Now restless.

So, due to having extra time on vacation, I had a weak moment of wanting someone to help carry a suitcase upstairs, grill me a burger, and drive the rental car. Ugh.

I’ve paused the dating app again. And I won’t be traveling anytime soon, so I should be safe from meeting random strangers online for awhile.

Stifle Me Not

Energy Reset

I underestimated the amount of time it takes to recover energy back from someone else absorbing it.

It took me years to want to date after getting divorced. I was fully depleted of any energy to do more than basic life things — eat, sleep, work, take care of my children. Even exercise was not part of my equation for a long time. I’ve slowly integrated that back into my routine in the last year or so. After getting divorced, it made sense that it would take years to actually want to date.

When I dated a guy earlier this year for about 3 months, it took me about 2 months to want to date again after that. The guy I most recently dated only lasted about 3 weeks, and it has taken me about 2 weeks to get through that post-dating slump. And it’s not like I’m this emotional crying wreck that is sad and desperately missing the guy. I don’t mope around, I’m just energetically drained and lack motivation after a break-up. I’m crystal clear that I don’t want anything more to do with these guys, yet somehow it exhausts spirit. I need to reset my energy every single time.

I’ve been trying to figure out why I wanted to date in the first place if I don’t even regularly hang out with friends? There are the obvious reasons of course (like the initial rush of attraction, etc.), but why do I truly want to spend my precious time and energy finding another person that I don’t know so that they may or may not work out?

I don’t want to be so negative, but the recovery period after dating someone is so exhausting. It knocks the wind out of me. And I don’t go into each relationship thinking it’s doomed or is going to last forever. I feel like I’m pretty realistic about being flexible with my expectations.

I don’t think dating is very good for me. I think it’s bad for me.

I’m not sure it’s worth it. I think people often date “just to have fun” or “as a distraction until meeting the one”… but aren’t they so tired? And I’m not sure there is a “the ONE”. I think there are lots of people you could be compatible if you crossed paths. If someone is going to exhaust me, stay off of my path please.

I’m focusing on my peace.

Stifle Me Not

When You Least Expect It

Since August I’ve been doing my own thing, being free from the dating world. It’s been on my mind, but I didn’t take any action until the calendar flipped to October 1st. Why that day, I have no idea, but I signed up on another dating site. Last time I had instant results, so I guess my expectations were high going in.


By the third week of October I was ready to throw in the towel. I’d bought a month’s subscription and planned to get through the month and see what happened. Well, I’ll tell you what happened. I got plenty of interest, but having someone initially engage with you is not the hard part. It’s actually having a meaningful conversation with any of them. Holy crap, the level of effort that men in my age range put into their initial communication is piss poor at best. I’m in HR, so I naturally ask questions to get to know people, so I know not everyone is super comfortable at first, but gosh, the lack of motivation was astounding.

By the third weekend, I’d had it. I was trying to engage with a man that had the personality of a coconut. I woke up on Monday morning in a bad mood and gave myself a pep talk that I could take a break, pause the service, and come back another day. But by lunch time I was furious at how annoying my last conversation was. I went to the park to go for my afternoon lunch walk. Before I got out my car, I got a ping on the dating app that someone new had “liked” my profile. I looked at it with no excitement. None. He was attractive, and clearly fit, bald, and it looked like had had some meaningful hobby. I was like Okay, seriously, this must be just another meathead and I don’t have time for this. I went for my walk and pouted, and decided I’d delete the app after lunch.

After my walk, before going back to the office, I looked through the guy’s profile that had just liked mine. I looked a little closer at his pictures and it sparked my curiosity. I just really wanted to know what the hell he was doing in one of his photos so I could click the X and move on. So I sent him a conversation and asked him my questions. He responded pretty quickly. We went back and forth like that for a little bit. I went back to the office. The conversation continued.

Oh my GOD, I found one with a brain!

We ended up talking on the phone that night. He grilled me with questions. He wanted to know just as much about me as I wanted to know about him. How refreshing.

We chatted throughout the week and he asked me out on a real date. Last weekend we went out to dinner and spent a long time talking and laughing and getting to know each other. We ended up hanging out the next night too.

Wow, this guy was fun, and thoughtful, and serious about dating. This is dating.

I haven’t seen him in over a week now because I’ve had my kids nonstop, but we have an ongoing text conversation going on throughout each day and into the evening. Talking to him is always the best. And we have another date planned in a few days.

I like this one. I really really like this one. Maybe he won’t be around forever, or maybe he will, but one thing I know for sure is he’s better than the last one. And this is why I trusted my gut – the last one had to go, because I needed someone who engaged and communicated better with me. I deserved more of what I didn’t know I needed.

To be continued… I hope!

Stifle Me Not

Boundaries and Benevolence

The guy I met in April is still around. It’s been… an experience. We’ve moved on to using the awkward relationship titles –> boyfriend and girlfriend. When you’re in your 40s, it just feels weird to have to label each other.

It’s like I’m skipping down a lit pathway (so it isn’t scary), but there are a lot of sudden turns, so I get caught off guard every so often by different, um, surprises. We’re finally getting comfortable with each other, but continuing to discover new quirks about each other. I remembered this phase happens, it’s just that it was 20 years ago.

So far, he’s been great to be around. We have fun. There are times when there is a lot of conversation, and there are times where we just lay on the couch and stare at the TV in silence. I don’t mind either way, and he doesn’t seem to mind either. We’ve met each other’s families and kids. Everyone seems nice and amicable on both sides.

I’ve had moments where I couldn’t tell if he was being annoying, or if I was being oversensitive…or maybe a little of both. I tend to be a people pleaser, so I’ve had to stop in my tracks and tell him specifically when I don’t like something. But I can also let things annoy me that may not annoy others — okay, okay, I can be moody. So I’m careful not to overreact when I know he’s just being a human. But I’m trying to speak up when I need to, and I’m really really trying not to compare him to everything with my ex, but it gets hard because that’s the only experience I have in mind.

I have to say that the last three months have had way more positives than negatives. Anytime something doesn’t feel right, I just try to process it the best I can and then to see if it “feels” right when I’m with him again. Every time I’ve gotten overanxious about our relationship, it’s seems to auto-correct itself. It’s weird. I’m used to my past, where I tried entirely too hard… until I was completely drained of all energy. Now I’m trying to, well, not try.

Being yourself and having boundaries works wonders for a relationship. If only someone had shared this secret sooner in my life. LOL. Not funny, but funny.

What I’ve been overthinking quite a bit is that I haven’t gone out with anyone else other than him. I like him, so why not? But is this too easy? I’m pretty sure the grass isn’t much greener elsewhere, and it’s not like I want to “play the field” as a single mom of two kids. It’s just that 1) I thought dating would be harder 2) I thought I’d be on several different dates before finding someone I actually wanted to spend time with and 3) I just didn’t expect to like anyone at all… ever again.

What he’s really up against is my alone time, which is priceless. I’d rather have some much-needed peace and quiet than be with someone that disturbs my peace.

I feel like my new guy is a little gift from the universe – like a “good job with dumping your slut husband and moving on with an honest life”.

Don’t get me wrong, this guy isn’t perfect. I can see why he’s had his own personal struggles, but I can also see that he’s learned from mistakes and tried to be a better person. That is what I wanted out of someone.

I guess I’ll see what the next 3 months bring… it can only go one of two ways because I’m too young to settle, but too old to waste any time with being unhappy – I’d rather be alone than unhappy. It’s a strange but good spot to be in. Boundaries are needed, but so is having some faith that others can bring good into my life without causing me grief. Boundaries and Benevolence.

To be continued …

Stifle Me Not

Racking Up the Mom Points

Today is Mother’s Day.

Today was hard. Challenging.

I hadn’t had my kids for about a week because their dad had some vacation time. So for a week I went to work, ate what I wanted, did what I wanted when I wanted, and got used to silence. I unknowingly became used to a calm and quiet house. I certainly missed them, but I relished the quiet. I also do not sleep well when they are away, so I did not like the quiet at night when I was laying in bed. Even if they are sound asleep, there is still a sound of quiet breathing that can’t be heard when they’re not here.

I missed them. And they returned. And the first day with them back is always great. I hang onto every word and expression that they make. I take in their every emotion and eat up their stories. By day 3, which was today, I apparently missed the silence. A few things added up to break me down today.

  1. I was trying to talk to my own mom, and both of my children would not stop interrupting. I rarely talk to my mom. Having a conversation with her is valuable these days, and my kids were taking that away from me. I started out with patience and landed with complete annoyance with the by the end of the phone call. Even after trying to let them talk to her, I was just irritated by the lack of privacy.
  2. The end of my phone call was caused by a call by my ex husband. I took the call because he was trying to schedule what time to pick them up today. As I’m talking to him about how bad our 4 year old has been lately (and trying to come up with some realistic solutions), he says that his girlfriend wants to talk to me. UH, what the fuck? And before I know it she’s on the phone wishing me happy fucking mother’s day. I was nice to her. I wished her happy mother’s day back, but it quickly turned to awkward silence and he took the phone back.
  3. I finally decided to start cleaning. And in an effort to occupy my very energetic son, I asked him to help me clean. The kid was in heaven getting to vacuum and dust. He loved it. He even stopped mid-way through to go potty (instead of poop his pants). Mom win! And he continued to help and be excited. As I finished up cleaning, I heard his sister ask him to play. I was so excited that I could have little “break” just to clean in silence while they played. Nope. Before I knew it he was in “annoying little brother” mode and she was yelling at him to get out of her room. He really was being unreasonable, so I had to physically pick him up and put him in his room while he kicked and screamed and cried. After a couple of minutes he calmed down, and I tried to talk to him. He was distracted by playing with some toys in his room. I left him alone and finished up my cleaning. I heard a small noise, but didn’t think anything of it. Next thing I know he’s crying and coming down the stairs with blood everywhere. He had a bloody face and hands, blood dripping on his shirt and all over the wooden steps. It took me a minute to comprehend the scene and start helping him. I got him up to the bathroom as he wailed and cleaned him up. I feared the worst – that he had jacked up something inside his mouth and hurt his gum or teeth. After cleaning him up I realized he had just busted his lip and it was just continuously bleeding. I consoled him, cleaned him up, and took him downstairs for a cold popsicle. I put on the TV for him and he spaced out. Okay then.
  4. After the commotion was over, I put his bloody clothes and mattress cover in the washing machine. Now there’s a little quirk with our washer – it has an error code almost every time it is started. It beeps within 5 to 10 minutes of starting it, and it won’t stop until you go repress Start on it. So as I am helping son, my daughter appears and says “why didn’t the washer drain the water?” Huh? Well, when the washer is done washing, it also beeps. She thought it was done, even though it had only been on for 5 minutes, and she put the soaking wet soapy load into the dryer and then wondered why it was so “wet”. There was water everywhere – floor, dryer, still in washer…. lord. I lost my mind. I just started yelling about how she KNOWS about the error code and the DAMN STORES JUST AREN’T OPEN YET FROM THE PANDEMIC TO ORDER A DAMN NEW WASHER YET. I was shaking, yelling, freaking out. I’d had it. It wasn’t a fun mother’s day. Today sucked. Then my daughter, after cleaning up the water and restarting the washer, comes out the living room where I’m sitting, and looks me square in the eyes and says “Why do you have to overreact and cry mother” … she proceeds to tell me that “Daddy will be in here in half an hour.”

For fucks sake.

Their dad showed up and away they went. And I still miss them. I miss them terribly. It is now dark and their little beds are dark and I will be able to hear every noise again tonight when I try to fall asleep. Sure, I got to eat dinner in peace and quiet, talk to some family members, and drink some wine, but miss them. I miss the good and the bad and just want them to be safe and healthy and loved, no matter what a pain in the ass they are.

I feel like I earned more points on my mom card today. I get them back tomorrow. No time to get used to the silence. We’ll see how I’m doing this time next week.

Stifle Me Not.

Falling Forward

And just like the wheel is turning forward again. More baby steps into the great unknown…

I gave myself until November 1st to have a down payment ready for a house. After saving my butt off for the past two months, and venting to my sister that I can’t wait for time to speed up one night, she graciously offered me a “gift” of the rest of my down payment (and that I can pay her back as it makes sense).

Uh, what? Just like that my little sis is ready to write me a check. I would have never asked her for money like that ever. She’s the little sister. I’m the big sister. I hinted at it to my mom, and to my dad, but they didn’t bite…but I was simply whining to her, not asking for a hand out.

I took it, with full intention of continuing to save my butt off so that I can pay her back sooner than later. And just like that I was pre-approved this weekend to buy my own adult house.

The house hunting has yet to begin. That likely starts this weekend. I’m full of all kinds of emotions – excited for sure, a little scared (I’ve never owned a home on my own), and just a tiny bit anxious about the market and the pressure and the stress. I’m in a good place with my stress level in life. I want this to be good stress. I don’t want to settle. I want to make a good decision for me and my kids. I’ve been “homeless” (okay, a 40-year old living with her parents) for the past 1 year and 1 month. The time has come.

I’ve come so far. I can’t give up now. “Life’s a journey, not a destination”… yea yea, I know, but getting a nice cozy comfortable home where I can be me (and my kids can be them) is somewhat of a destination for me. It’s a destination of a new beginning. It’ll be proof to myself that I broke the cycle of bad decisions (or lack thereof) and that I’ll be living for myself, finally.

It’s the first day of fall, and I’m falling forward… It’s my own movement that will take me to where I need to be.

Stifle Me Not

Setting Myself Free…Again

I’m so tired of being stuck in other people’s lives. I want my own life.

In high school, I was naive and of course always wanted to be who I wasn’t and who I couldn’t be. I wanted to be like miss popular her or her or her. People liked me just fine for who I was so I just blame that on being young and dumb.

In college, I desperately wanted to figure out who I was and what I wanted to do when I grew up. I settled. I figured out what I didn’t like and settled for what wasn’t terrible to me just so I was comfortable. I didn’t push for what I really wanted.

After college, I moved home with the parents for one year. I spent every weekend an hour away with my then-boyfriend (now-ex). After a year, I moved 5 minutes away from my then-boyfriend (now ex). I have literally been making major life decisions and living my life around his every since then. The night that I kicked him out, I set myself free, and entered a world of uncertainty for the first time because it was all about me and what I wanted.

Or so I thought.

When I moved in with my parents last summer to make sure my kids had a decent roof over their heads and a consistent daily lifestyle, that’s what I got. As well as being inundated with all of their beliefs and habits and patterns. They mean well, but after all of their years on earth, they aren’t about to change now. They know what they like and don’t like. And I try to respect their routines and wishes since I’ve overstayed my welcome here.

But it’s getting old. I went from living one person’s life to living another’s. This is what I was trying to get away from when I moved away the first time. And somehow I managed to do a 360. Right back to the start of the circle. Everything from how I load the dishwasher to how quiet or loud I am when I walk up the stairs is affected by others right now and I just want to be free in my own space and my own skin.

I feel like I’m in therapy with myself. I start to make a decision, and then I overthink it because my perspective of what this person or that person will think overwhelms me. And I keep having to pause and remind myself that I get to choose what I want. I’m 40 years old damnit, I know what I want.

What I want.

I’m trying to move up the plan for starting my house-hunting journey. Wish me luck.

Stifle Me Not

Expectations Low, Hopes High

My laptop has a funny smell. And sometimes it overheats. I’ve had it for a few years now. It’s well past its warranty. I’ve even had it repaired once at a PC shop. They did a good job. But all good things must come to an end. I’m pretty certain it won’t last too much longer, but I’ll guess I’ll keep typing and just expect the unexpected. Normally I’d be happy that I’d have an excuse to buy a new electronic toy because an older one was done, but money isn’t endless these days, so I hope something works out in my favor.

I’ve learned to approach life that way these days. There’s an ideal in my head usually, but I’ve learned not to get too bent out of shape if things don’t go as planned, or imagined. Many times we may not admit that we have an idea in our heads of what we expect out of a person, situation, or just life in general. In almost 40 years, I’ve learned that the unexpected is inevitable, no matter how well we plan or control anything.

I have an aloe vera plant that I bought last summer. I bought one for my sister and ended up getting one for myself too because it was cheap. I don’t usually do well with plants, but I figured I could keep something related to the cactus family alive. When I moved, I forgot about it and it started to go a little brown and the soil really dried out. Great, only I could kill an aloe vera plant. Well, despite the look of it, I watered it and put it near a window. I’ve been slowly take care of it week by week and month by month. Today I noticed that it looks pretty good. It’s green and seems to be actually growing.

I feel like that plant – like a dried out lonely little brown plant, but I’m slowly improving day by day, week by week, and month by month. i keep taking care of myself and reassuring myself and turning negative thoughts around. I’m not sure what the future holds. All I know is that I’m okay today, I have a green plant, and tomorrow doesn’t look too shabby. Maybe if my laptop dies I’ll have money for a bright shiny new one. Or maybe not, but I’ll keep going.

Stifle Me Not