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A Boring Blog…..Oh and they found my passport.

November 21, 2014

I got nothing. I have nothing to write about. Nothing is going on.

I started a new job. I have lots of observances about the new place but I’m scared to write about work. The last time I did that, my ex-co-worker found the blog and went bat-shit crazy on me. (I still think she found it again and is reading this right now.) So, I’ll just say that it’s very different from the last place, like a parallel universe. The people are nice and smart and they work hard towards a the mission. It’s a good mission and they actually achieve it. They provide services to cancer patients. Every day I see someone loading supplements into their car and women in scarves being fitted for wigs or getting bras and special undershirts. So, at least I’m contributing to something real.

The work is different than I thought it would be and the world of 8-5:05 is kind of kicking my ass. With my daily walks, I don’t have time for much else.

I have a few favorite volunteers that I can joke around and shoot the shit with. I’m learning what level of sarcasm I can unleash on my co-workers. I’m easing into the real Marie.

So, it’s kind of a boring time for me. My life is very routine. I got nothing.

I broke down and started the Wellbutrin. I don’t know if its working which probably means it is. I haven’t felt the level of sadness I was before. I’m still seeing a therapist. I had to start over with a new one. My old one got a job at a treatment center. She insisted I have someone to talk to. On our first visit the new therapist asked me, “What do you want?” I didn’t have an answer but later I wrote a long list and e-mailed it to her. That visit got off to a weird start. I had left early from work so I drove around a bit. Then I got turned around and lost and I was late. By the time I walked in, I was crying. I didn’t know why at the time. I think it was because my therapist is my only outlet. It’s the only place I can really let go and admit what’s really going on. I feel like I have to be strong or put up a stable front for everybody else. Work, family, my kids, Liz, surface level “friends….” I can’t break down in front of them. I can’t drag any of them down with me. So, sometimes I feel like I don’t have a big strong oak tree to lean against. That 50 minutes in therapy is all I have. So when I was lost trying to find the office in the outskirts of Lafayette, I was wasting that time. I think I panicked.

I’m seeing her again today.

I think I successfully man-ed the 6-foot hottie. By man-ed I mean I’m behaving like a man would. I’m just withdrawing attention without actually being honest about how I feel. Because I’m a chicken shit. That’s not the only reason. Once when I was 18, I broke up with someone and he stalked me. I had to get the law involved. One day I’ll tell that story.

Hottie has texted a few random hi’s and wassup’s but I’ve claimed busy-ness at work or sleepiness and blown him off. I told Z about the smell contrast. He laughed. I miss him so much.

I got a phone call yesterday from Lufthansa. My passport is in a warehouse in Frankfurt! They have the little black book and everything. The woman who called me was really nice and more helpful than anyone else has been. She sent me an e-mail with her name and contact info and all the notes from my file. The call by Liz, the detention and the actual flights. It was all there. She said she was going to use “her contacts” at the lost and found to have it mailed back to me. I’m glad I didn’t cancel it with the state department.

I might have a tinder-generated date. But I’ll believe it when I see it. I “liked” one of his “moments” and asked him about it. He “liked” one of my moments and I struck up a conversation. He was intrigued with the “I once spent 30 hours in an Israeli Detention Center” line. Yes, I’m using that to lure men. I offered to tell him the story over wine. He said maybe this or next Saturday but he has to find out when he’ll be back in town. So, I’m not counting on it. I’ve seen this wishy washy-ness before. Maybe he’s another feather. He has nice hair.

I told Amy the other night, “Sometimes I think, maybe I’ve had my chance. I was married 20 years. I raised two kids. I fell in love again. Maybe that was all I get.” It’s more than a lot of people get. I don’t know.

So, it’s work, walking, playing on tinder until I get sick of it and trying to fit in my hopes and dreams in the cracks in between.

Like I said, I got nothing.

 

 

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