If I had to choose a lover. One kind and bold. One steady and loyal. The lover that knows me the best and caresses me the softest, I would choose Words. Written Word to be exact. Writing has gotten me through the good, the really good. The bad, the really bad. The ugly and the not so ugly men. Words have always been my place to be. My voice, my vortex.
I set a reminder in my phone at the end of every month that reads, "Don't forget you are a writer. Go write." As life would have it- I forget. Some new young hot habit comes along and I get infatuated. I forget that these 88 keys have been my safe place. I dance with the new hotness and forget my soul mate. Then the passion dies, I feel bereft & I remember that my one true love has never gone anywhere. She just waits. Patiently. Welcoming me back with no recriminations and no tedious hurt feelings. The best kind of lover- accepting, never demanding; always giving, never taking.
I've missed you Blog. I'm sorry I cheated. I'm back.
Where to start? So much to say. I am almost at a loss for words. Almost. Start with the end. Tonight I took an anxiety pill. Not understanding if I'm anxious or not (my inclination being not) the doctor prescribed them to me effecting confusion within me. We both agreed that I was calm- he decided that that was why I needed anxiety medicine. I guess on paper my life is stressful. Maybe in real life too.
Why?
Men are the worst.
My kids won't leave home.
Work alternates between too much and boring.
Men are the worst.
The only thing worse than this particular man is the idea of being alone.
A therapist asked me the other day if I was comfortable being alone. I quickly replied that I generally prefer my own company to that of other humans. Which is true. But I realized that perhaps I am not great at being single. I am generally in a relationship. When I'm not in a relationship I am in a "situation". When I am not in a situation I am filling my bench with first and second stringers to occupy my time. Men have become a game to me. Perhaps at 40 that's not so healthy.
Maybe I'm realizing I can't play the field forever and it's freaking me out so I'm having a mid-life crisis and dating who happens to be available. Taking on another project so that it shapes up just the way I want it to. So that I can still write my own happy ending.
Finding a good guy is SO Much Work and honestly they aren't all the much fun anyway. The bad boys aren't ready to settle down. The good guys don't hold Amy appeal. First world problem right? "Oh no, there's too many men and none are just right..." What a baby I'm being. Because the thing is, I don't want either. Single or married. I don't want either. So then what?
Interesting side note: anti-anxiety medicine does not work on me. I'm sleepy but my brain is still moving pretty fast. I guess I'll flush the rest of the pills.
Universal questions:
Do I want to be the good guy or the agent of karma?
When is enough enough?
Am I going through a midlife crisis?
What does one do with such a thing?
If true power is knowing that you can but you don't does it make me more powerful or less powerful if I choose not to when it's deserved?
How can you tell when a thing is deserved?
At what point is it ok to destroy a life?
I don't know.
I thought I would know more at this age. Turns out I know less. Much less.
A
