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I Should’ve Written When I was Happy

February 15, 2017

I should’ve written the blog that was floating in my head when I was happy. I was so happy. Inexplicably happy. I got fired and I didn’t feel like a complete piece of shit. I brushed it off and moved on. I denied the depression monster the sovereignty over my thoughts that it usually claims when something like that happens. I felt good. I felt confident. I was ok.

But now, the reality of what I’m about to do is beginning to sink in. I’ve rummaged through my things, putting aside only the essentials. I measured the interior of my Honda Element and taped off a section of the back room in my apartment. Only what will fit can come with me. The rest of it has been piled and organized and tagged for a moving sale next weekend. I’m living in a thrift store.

My little brother Paul came to pick up my grandmother’s chifforobe. He walked into the apartment and began surveying for more stuff to take. “For the last time, Paul…no you cannot have the little table, custom made just for me. You’ve asked me three times.” I felt like a dying animal swatting at a vulture.

I never see Paul. As soon as he moved to Lafayette he moved in with a new boyfriend and wrapped himself up in that life. As he looked around my apartment, it seemed to dawn on him that I was moving across the country. He started to tear up a little. I just felt angry. He wouldn’t have even been standing in my apartment if not for the free furniture he was getting.

“When do you want to go for drinks at Pamplona?” he asked me.

“I don’t know Paul. That’s up to you. When do you want to go?” I replied.

“How about next Saturday?”

“Ok, let me know during the week in case I have plans,” I said.

It won’t surprise me if that doesn’t happen.


And then there’s Mr. Canada. Things continued between us after his visit. We talk every day and skype every once in a while. But I’ve been getting annoyed with him lately. He loves to get me all riled up. And sometimes I don’t feel like being all riled up. I never know when an argument he’s making is really his or just the devil’s advocate stance, taken just for fun. He always feels like he has to counter and push. I find myself agitated and raising my voice almost every time we talk.

“I’m just telling you about my day, Mr. Canada. I don’t need you to analyze it and tell me what you think I should be doing or thinking or feeling!”

“Is this one of those times when I should just listen and not try to fix things?” he asked.

“Yes!” I said.

“Well you should’ve led with that.” he said. We laughed.

Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s the distance. Maybe we just need to get to know each other better. But right now it feels a little red-flaggish.

Meanwhile I’m pretty sure he wants to marry me.


So, I’m nursing a mild case of blah’s. The monster isn’t fully in control. But it’s definitely lurking.

I’m about to get rid of most of my possessions, drive across the country by myself using most of the little money I have left, move in with my pregnant daughter, her husband and the 8-year old and start my life all over again, while a guy in Canada is convinced we’ll be together for the rest of our lives.

Ok, then.

Excuse me while I go get a dip cone.



From → Rantings

One Comment
  1. Dip cones make all the monsters disappear(at least temporarily).

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