Growing Old

I miss you.

And it's not just the I miss what we had.  It's the I miss what we never got.

I miss knowing what we looked like 10 years in.
20.
30.

My parents will celebrate 50 years of marriage next year.  We don't get that.

I want to see how you curl up with me after 10 years of the same Valentine's day.

I want to see how you handle a new house, a new life, growing nieces/nephews, and aging relatives.

I want to know how you would handle all the curveballs life gives us.  Be it a holiday going not as planned, or a life plan getting derailed.

We never got that.

2018

That was interesting.

That was tough.

That was walking away from everything I knew.

It doesn’t mean I didn’t want to do it, it doesn’t mean it wasn’t the best decision, but it can be the right thing to do and still be tough.

I miss this.  I miss reflection.  I miss thoughts. I miss knowing myself and having my peace.

And when something in your life no longer serves those purposes, it’s time to let them go.

So I did.  And I wasn’t sure what that would look like, how I would make it work, but here I am, doing it all.

I was blessed, to walk away from a job with an extra paycheck.  I was blessed to have that happen not-on-my-timeframe because I then expanded my search.  It made me look and say “what do you really want” and the answer was simply a paycheck, so that’s what I got.

That my new job requires a brain, attention to detail, integrity, and personal relationships - in short, everything I am - was a Godwink.

But walking away from the old one… oh my.

It was all I’d known, how I defined myself for 20 years.  It kept me afloat, when Nate died. It was all that we’d known, for me.  It was supposed to be how I slid into retirement. And yes, it kept me going many a day, knowing he would’ve loved the job I took.  It gave me a reason to wake up, a faux family, so many good people, and so many hilarious moments.

It let me retain a huge piece of my self-identity, when the rest of it disappeared.

No wonder I’m a little lost.

But when it starts sucking more out of you than adding to you, it’s time to leave.  I’m glad I had the guts to recognize that, and look for options elsewhere.

This life is something we’d never dreamt.  When you realize his death was something we’d never dreamt as well, it makes sense that what fits this life is different, too.  It’s no garage. It’s a tiny house. It’s living in the middle of nowhere, but without the land. It’s a tiny tv and a room full of books.

It’s saying, it’s okay to not hold on, “just because.”

It’s saying he knows.  He loves me. He supports me.  

Growth is painful.  Growth is not linear.  Growth is saying “this isn’t good for me” as much as saying “this is good for me.”  Growth takes time.

I’m not fully sure where I’m going, but I am fully sure I don’t need to go anywhere.

I am enough.  This life is enough.  People who push the “end goal” and “what are you doing with it?” miss the point.  Life happens in the daily, in the moment, wherever we are. It’s not a job, a big house, vacations, or fancy things.  If your entire life is about going somewhere, where will you end up? Dead. Just like me.

I’d rather enjoy the moments.  I’d rather see my people. I’d rather read my books and watch my shows.  I’d rather move, meditate, and breathe. That’s what I hope to have gotten back.

Yesterday got rough. This morning was me rolling over to see Leo curled up on the pillow next to me.  I did not feel like moving.  A few hours later I called Mom and said, “This is it, this the year I’m not going to be there”.  Family Christmas in Iowa was today.  Ok.

Me and Leo dragged a pillow to the couch and I climbed under the quilts.  We dozed, him more than me.  A few hours later I went to check on the neighbor’s car and he was still there when I got back.

I successfully showered, put on a different pair of pj pants, and switched couches.  Leo’s right here with me.

Some days I think it’s healthiest to simply live like Leo.  As I’ve bawled then dozed off and on all day, today’s that day.

And the family?  I think they’ve been expecting it.

Blessed

Because the half crescent moon still shines on my backyard.  I am so blessed.

Thank you for allowing me to continue this life.  

Thank you for reminding me of what was our peace.  

Thank you for reminding me there are so many stars in this universe, more so than I can count.  More so than I ever saw from my home before.

Thank you for the waves lapping in the shore.

The lights around the bay.

The darkness that makes my eyes adjust to see the light.

You're right.  This is good.

Please, God, continue to bless me.

Doing nothing

I moved.  4 months after deciding I needed a new house, 3 months after I first looked at a tiny cabin with bay views.

I am out... I loved my townhome & the deck, but not the lack of windows, the basement I never used.  That I could remember him in all those spaces and he'd never be there again, that we weren't supposed to be living there anymore.  So I moved.

I got a tiny house in the country and yet only 17 miles west of downtown.  I got a yard I have to mow sometime, a roof I need to clear of branches and replace, the worlds cutest front door and peeling siding & paint on the back.  I have a 200-year-old willow tree, that's already been half cut off.

And I have a mess.  Not the mess of initial moving - there's 2 boxes left in the kitchen and all the books are on shelves.  It's livable, but not perfect.

And it can wait.  Because perfection is overrated and every day off for 2 months now I've been cleaning out a house, packing and unpacking.  And this is my 6-month vacation, when I couldn't go anywhere and I said I need vacation anyways.  So today, I do nothing.

I had coffee on my patio, and read the news in my library.... in a sunny armchair.  I'm listening to birds, the wind in the trees, and water.  I'm debating which of the DVDs I discovered I own I'm going to watch.  

And I'm counting my blessings.  For my tiny house that's still intact, a job that allows me days off, and the beauty of the world.  It's a good life.

Doing nothing.

Strong

Why should I have to be strong?  What is so fundamentally wrong with us that we think people need to bebstrongn rather than people need to be shown compassion?

We always talk about pulling ourselves up by the bootstrap.  What if, instead, we pulled each other up with a helping hand?

Why must it always be "you got this" rather than "we can do this?"

Live this life

Because you're already gone

When I get home at the end of the day

You're already gone

When I need a hug and "baby it'll be ok"

You're already gone

When I look around and wonder what happened to the life I had we had we we were supposed to have

You're already gone

I gotta be ok be ok be ok

Cuz I'm all that I got left

When you left

It wasn't your choice and I get that they get that yes

But it wasn't mine

Either

And I held on held on held on oh I tried to hang on

But I couldn't 

Cuz she wants he want I got bills to pay

And somehow, someway, no one came back for those shoes by my front door

And somehow some way I found the way

House got paid car got bought was whooooa I got a new job

Because you're already gone

And I waited

I waited

I did my best and I tried my hardest and it just didn't work baby

But I tried

I tried

I tried for seven years 

And I got a calendar that hadn't been turned since

And it's time

It's time

It's time for me

To say you're not coming back

And I know

I know

People think this should've happened years ago

But I believe in you and I believe in our love

So it's just so hard

Just so hard 

To think you're not coming back

Cuz I believed you 

And then I didn't want to

And now I got to

You're not coming back

So it's my turn

It's my time

It's time to say

This is my life

This is what I wanted

This is what I'm doing anyways

This is my life 

This is what I want

What we were supposed to have

So I'm gonna make that happen

And I don't care don't care don't care 

Whatever they want to say

I was supposed to have everything 

Then I didn't 

So I'm gonna do it do it do it

I'm gonna live this life

Live our life

I'm gonna live this life 

Live this life

2016

And 2016 was the year I quit trying.

I recognized nothing was working for me, and I quit trying.

I quit caring if I looked good, what my hair or my face was doing.  I attracted attention anyways.

I quit banging my head against the wall trying to bend a couple situations to MY will, professionally.  I walked away from one of the funnest jobs I'll ever have because I couldn't change a couple things I decided I couldn't live with.  I quit being so involved that I had to know everything that was happening and I had to be the one to fix every problem.

I learned how to walk away... and found some energy.

Which I promptly poured into opening a new restaurant, only to discover very early on that was still too much involvement on me.  I quit.  I quit being that girl, the one who had to control everything, and became the girl who only wanted to show up for a paycheck.

So I quit that job.  And took 10 days from life off work, during which my body started to recover from the stress I'd put it thru.

I quit caring.  I quit asking what they would say and said I'm paying my bills, and on only one job.  I'm paying my bills, and there's a little in the bank.  It's a job.  I never wanted a job that was a lifestyle.

Remember?  I never wanted a career.  I wanted a life.  With my guy yes, but in a quiet, peaceful place where I could drink my coffee in the sun.  I wanted a life where I worked as little as I needed or as much as I wanted.  I wanted a job that let me meet people, and allowed the time to see the people I already knew.

And so I quit.  Retired, if you will.  I still have a job.... I've always assumed I would til I was in my 70s, 80s if I'm able.  But it's not a career.  I clock in, clock out, and thru quitting, have learned to laugh at all the little dramas.

I quit not having time for people.  Yes, new job is kinder on the schedule, but I also started scheduling lunches rather than waiting for happy hours, answering the phone rather then letting it go to a voicemail I'll struggle to return.  Thru the glories of technology, I stay in touch with my friends in other states.

And I quit caring.  This is my life.  If all I want to do is sit at a sunny table, read the news, and eat good food, that, my friends, is exactly what I intend to do.

Transformation and Aging

Maybe some years are just meant to be horrible, and transformative.

I'd venture a guess that for most people that year comes after some major event.  Divorce, marriage, childbirth, death.  I can see where after life-changing events something needs to change within yourself to get you to the place where you can do this new form of your life.

Maybe the people who are stuck, depressed with life, disengaged, are those who never made the leap to what life is rather than what they thought it would be.

So perhaps it's a blessing.  Perhaps it's a part of my character that while 35 has been horrible, I've fought it every step of the way, starting with saying "this isn't working, so I'm going to stop."

I love my family and friends and I love how supportive they are of me.  But they will never be as supportive of me as he was.  I know my friends and family love me incredibly, but they will never love me like he did.  It's time I stopped expecting them to.

I will never again matter to anyone else in the same way I mattered to him, so it's time I started mattering to myself.

The whole point of building a new life is figuring out what works, and doing that.  Fortunately for me, this has coincided with the year I turned 35.  I am no longer a young woman. I am no longer even in my early 30's. For a girl who grew up envying her 80-year-old grandmother's life, this is freeing. 

I've been making strides to this point for almost five and a half years now, but somehow 35 has made me say it's time.  It's time to finally start living for myself.

God I missed this...

God I missed this...

I missed the cooking dinner with a good friend.  The whole "are you buying meat or am I?" "Your place or mine?" "What happened to you this week?"

I missed that.  It may be an odd thing to miss.  But when you're widowed, or simply living singled, ... no one cares.  No one asks.  Your life just...  happens.   It's nice to have someone to touch base with, say hey, I got the meat, Hey I'll be over...

And the just chilling and the companionship.  People underestimate that.  Hell, I underestimate that.  That hey, you just need someone to talk to, to shoot the shit with, to look up stupid videos on youtube with. 

"Hey how was your week?" goes a long ways when no one's asking the question.  The "Really, so what happened with... " is a golden question. And it just doesn't get asked.

Would you like to ask?  Because there's an answer.

Because here's the flip side.  I have an awesome life.  I love my job, I love my daily chill time.  But here's the whole story - no one cares.  And as much as it is to know how awesome you have it, how much you love your life, having someone to share it with just makes it that much sweeter.

And that's the flip side.