Suddenly Single Journey

Happiness is having start of school traditions…

Author: thenicknick

I’ve already shared with you some of our traditions. I’ve talked about the stress and strain of finding keys. I told you about the struggle to power through and attend two open houses in the blistering heat after working all day. I’ve mentioned the shopping. I didn’t dare tell about plucking Rachel’s eyebrows. (We plucked as long as we could. It’s break down and get the bad brows waxed time…)

Let me tell you about the best part of our start of school traditions. (Because I’m a sentimental fool…)

Every year, the night before school starts, I try to make it extra special for the kids. I like a nice dinner, so they can have sweet dreams on a nice full belly. I like a nice breakfast so they can head off to school with energy for lots of big important thoughts. I like measuring the changes because life is full of change and it should be recognized.

And so last night, after we ran around to pick up some last minute clothing necessities, we hit…Trade Joe’s! The kids were really excited. We had decided to make our Trader Joe night happen one night sooner…just because.

Our quest for the perfect meal started in the sushi section. We would need appetizers. So, we grabbed one package of California Rolls. And I have to tell you…I don’t know why they call them that. There’s no avocado. That’s part of what makes them perfect. Mostly it’s just imitation crab salad, wrapped in seaweed, then covered in rice, which is rolled in two colors of sesame seeds. Yum. We always need something to tide us over on the way home.

The sushi was in a horrible disarray when we arrived.

Rachel: *gasp* Mommy!

Such disrespect! So, I picked one up and cuddled it to my chest.

me: You’re safe now, little sushi. You’re coming with us!

And there was a man stocking food next to us. He laughed.

Stocker: Looks like a sushi rescue.

And it was. I’m currently keeping that sushi safe…on my thighs.

On to the frozen food section we went. We honed in immediately on what we planned to get, as if magnetically drawn there. We needed (yes, needed) chocolate croissants for breakfast. And we needed mushroom risotto. And we needed these filo triangles filled with mushrooms in some kind of wine sauce. And we needed the flat bread covered in mozzarella, wild mushrooms, and black truffles.

Then we headed to the check out. Once there, the kids made their happiest find: frosted animal cookies shaped like ocean creatures. Seriously. A box for each as their special after school snack.

For once, I seriously overestimated our ability to consume large quantities of food. We saved the flatbread for another day.

Our list of Trader Joe’s favorites continues to grow. (You’re seriously going to want an invite to our Christmas party.) And we had an amazing night together. More than anything else, that’s what counts. We started the evening in the right mind set.

And the next morning…

There were chocolate croissants. (Thank you, Rachel!) And we took pictures. And I measured them on the wall.

It’s amazing what a difference a year has made. My babies are growing up. And I’m treasuring each moment with them.

Wishing you all a smooth start to your school years!

August 26th, 2010 | Posted in Reflections | 5 Comments »

It’s starting to show…

Author: thenicknick

Yup. The stress and strain of the impending school year is becoming evident. I knew it yesterday morning when I had to deal with an angry teen.

Rachel, determined to eek the last bit of joy out of the summer break, wanted to leave the house before 8am to visit friends around the corner, return around 10am, and do her chores then. Right. Sounds mostly reasonable.

Only…

me: Where’s your key?

Rachel: I don’t know.

me: You need to find it.

Rachel: I looked. I don’t know where it is.

Now…I’m trying to exude an air of calm, ride out those walk endorphins just a little while longer. And it was getting all the more challenging since she was standing over me, staring at me angrily, hoping to get the desired response. Somehow, I don’t think this is what she had in mind…

me: Stop staring at me and go.

She headed for the front door.

me: No. Go somewhere else. You need to find your key.

And she stomped off to her room.

I looked at HIM, working on his computer right next to us during the entire exchange. And I knew he was uncomfortable and thinking, like me, that this is no way to start a day. And I knew he was waiting for some sign.

me: Am I so wrong?

HIM: No. She’s sixteen. She should be able to keep track of a key. They both should.

Well, the fight continued and worsened. I overheard her talking to her father on the phone, telling him that I was being ‘pissy’ over the missing key. So, I opened the door to show her ‘pissy.’ And she looked confused as to why I would be upset. Seriously.

I glanced about her room. The room she swore she had searched. That room. Right. And it looked like it had been searched all right. By the police. Or maybe a robber. There were baskets of clothes and laundry everywhere. The bed wasn’t made. Clothes were scattered about the floor. All manner of garbage littered her shelves. And this is why we keep her door closed. If I saw it daily, more fights would ensue, I would be on blood pressure meds, and probably have to take to my bed…or the nearest fainting couch while I questioned the universe as to how I could have raised her to be such a stinking slob.

I went to work mad-ish. I was stressed for sure. I don’t like when Rachel and I fight. I don’t like starting my day angry.

She caved first. She called within an hour asking what she needed to make for dinner. And I saw it for the olive branch it was. We talked…careful to avoid the sensitive key subject.

She called back again about half an hour later.

Rachel: I found the key. Keenan had it. I let him borrow it. See, I didn’t lose it.

me: No, but you lent it and forgot it.

Rachel: So, it wasn’t my fault. It was Keenan’s.

me: I’m thinking it was both of your faults.

So, the tension is gone. The key is found. And she assures me her room is clean. And I’m too tired to question to who’s standard.

There’s still school shopping to be done tonight. And there’s dinner to be made. And there’s quality time to be had.

The transitioning must begin. No more summer mother. School is in session.

August 25th, 2010 | Posted in Reflections | 3 Comments »

Practically Pamplona…

Author: thenicknick

Yes, it’s the start of a new school year. And that means one thing. Where Pamplona has the running of the bulls, we have the walking of the schedule.

Right.

As if getting up early and walking my soon to be phat butt down Carmel Road wasn’t enough, I now have to complete Rachel’s schedule with her. Seriously. And after a full eight hours at the office, I’m mostly toast.

The only thing that spurred me on was that I remembered I was a loving and supportive mother…dammit. That was why I crammed about thirty things into the evening. There’s nothing like attending two open houses, picking up pet food, getting some brows done and feeding the family after working all day.

Well, it was a rough start from the inception. The kids came home later than anticipated from their weekend with the ex. Great.

And then I couldn’t find the pet food coupon. (Yes, I am now a coupon carrying kind of girl.) Luckily, we decided the pup’s food could wait a day. I changed my clothes and we were off.

We hit Bi-Lo first to get the cat food. We go through a lot of cat food. It was quick and painless, despite the fact that I was toting two kids around.

From there, to the mall so Rachel could get her eyebrows beaten back. Poor girl. Only…there would be a thirty minute wait for a five minute service. And I just didn’t have that kind of time since her open house was ending in…thirty minutes.

On to the school.

We arrived and expected to meet up with Ashley…only that never happened. Instead, we worked the schedule. We went from one building to the next, then on to another. I’m not entirely sure how many buildings are on the campus. What I am sure of is that Rachel didn’t have any two class back to back in the same building and we must have visited most of them.

Much like last year, it had to be 97 degrees. And I was fading fast. For some reason, I suspect that by the time Keenan is in high school, I’ll be sending him in a cab. Just kidding, kid! Mostly…

And we just kept walking and walking. And there were stairs involved. And suddenly, a thought occurred to me.

me: Rachel, we are just doing the first semester, right?

Rachel: No, Mommy.

me: We don’t need to do both semesters now!

I was ready to tell her I’d meet her in the car when she finally decided she’d had enough. So it was off to Keenan’s open house. And suddenly I was drawing a blank. I couldn’t remember which direction to turn to get to his school. (Much like the kids, all the unnecessary info falls out of my head over the summer.)

We found the school. It was a quick left then a right then a left into the parking lot. We parked in the already full lot. And we walked to the main entrance…where we were immediately foiled in our plan to gain a quick entry and retreat.

Yup. Locked up tight. And there was a sign that warned the doors would remain that way for another thirty minutes.

Puhleeze!

My calves were burning. My stomach was eating itself. My toes were tingling.

me: Maybe I’m stroking out.

No such luck.

Keenan found us an unlocked side door. We were in. Oh, and the best part? His homeroom was right there. We introduced ourselves, made some apologies that we couldn’t stay later, and headed back to the car.

No, I don’t think I’m better than anyone else. I’m not busier or more important or anything like that. I’m just more determined to Damn the Man when I can, when I really need to. And I needed to.

We ordered food and headed to get a few more groceries before heading home. We made it back before 7pm…barely. We accomplished almost everything. Poor eyebrows. Maybe we’ll pluck them later. After all, tonight is something of a crap shoot. Bishop has a follow up appointment at the vet. Fingers crossed.

August 24th, 2010 | Posted in Reflections | 5 Comments »

Bailing with a thimble…

Author: thenicknick

That’s what it feels like.

I dieted and lost three pounds from diet and exercise. At least that’s what the scale said Friday. And then over the weekend…I gained them back.

I’m hoping to chalk it up to water weight because right now…after yesterday’s meal… (Yes, one…ALL DAY.) I am feeling a tad swollen. Salt hates me.

And apparently chicken wings, mozzarella wedges, chicken tenders, and french fries are high in that content? Yeah. I know. Only…you make concessions when you’re with friends. And you can’t always dictate the meal when you are all eating together and splitting the bill down the middle, as opposed to getting individual meals.

Or maybe that’s just me. And I’m sure there’s a more graceful way to handle it…a way that I could have eaten healthier and still enjoyed the company of Lonnie and Lindsay and HIM, but I don’t feel like making a fuss or being difficult or announcing that I am…once again…dieting.

This is why I have developed my personality. It’s a must. It makes up for what I lack in the impressive body department.

On the other hand, while the scale is laughing at me, my body is getting tighter and firmer from the exercise. All is not lost.

That should have been my theme for the weekend. It was a tumultuous weekend, but it ended on a high and that’s all I ever need to maintain my happy. That was all I needed to set the tone for the entire week.

It’s going to be a busy one. I have the kids’ Open Houses at school tonight. Two different schools. Yay. And Bishop has to go back to the vet tomorrow. And we have to finish getting ready for school to start on Wednesday. I have an open house at work on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Needless to say, I should be toast on Friday.

The routines will good for the kids, but I have to give up on being a Summer Mother for another ten months. *sigh* And I have to make sure the summer reading projects are done. While Rachel is working diligently, the boy requires A LOT of supervision to complete…pretty much any task. Remember the pile patrol duties? Yup.

So, I’m off to walk my fat ass down Carmel Road again. It has become a joke between us. I like doing it. The endorphins are much needed. The exercise is much needed. The thinking time is much appreciated.

One more week to get into some shape. (Yes, round is a shape…but maybe if I shoot for true hourglass I’ll feel much better.) Then we start on a new family endeavor.

Ready?

Lonnie is teaching Tae Kwon Do. He’s a black belt, registered as a lethal weapon, that kind of thing. And he’s been teaching for a while, all over the city. As a friend, we are getting a discount and a group discount…since all four of us are going to take lessons together. Can you picture it? I know. Awwww.

The kids and I took lessons together years ago. We’re looking forward to getting back into it. And HE wants some formal training. HE has developed a strong fighting style, a product of his growing up a ginger in some tough neighborhoods. Now he wants some formal training. And it will be family bonding time. And it will be bonding with Lonnie and Lindsay, since she has decided to take lesson with us from her husband.

I CAN’T WAIT! SO, in lieu of belly dancing, which would have been fun and may still happen eventually, I am doing a family thing. And family things are good.

Happy Monday.

August 23rd, 2010 | Posted in Reflections | 4 Comments »

Much better…

Author: thenicknick

Friday was rough. No denying. Between having a sick dog, a tense HIM, and a scoundrel of an ex…it is no wonder I was in a bit of a funk. I earned my funk. And I just couldn’t vent. Words hurt too much.

I peaked too soon, Friday. I had such high hopes for the lucky penny I had stooped to pick up. It seemed to be working. My second patient of the day brought us breakfast. A really good breakfast. A breakfast of ham, egg, and cheese bagel sandwiches and coffee from Bruegger’s.

Then it simply tanked from there.

By yesterday morning, when HE woke from a dream and punch/pushed me in the side and jarred me from bed, I was ready to give up on a good weekend. I even contemplated going back to bed and staying there until Monday. HE had a guy’s night planned, going to the Jets game with his boys. I was supposed to be entertaining Lindsay while they were gone.

Oh, and they were making a day of it, meeting up around 4pm for an 8pm game, probably returning home around midnight. When she canceled due to illness, I was mildly disappointed. I’ll admit it. And HE made a nearly genuine offer to cancel, his resolve strengthened by the knowledge that I would never take him up on it.

In all honesty, the thought never crossed my mind. I needed some down time, some alone time, a chance to get back to being me, just like Guy’s Night was for him. I needed to be alone in the house, do things that I wanted to do with no regard for anyone’s feelings but my own. I needed to eat what I wanted, when I wanted. I needed to talk on the phone with friends without anyone around to interrupt or overhear. I needed to watch what I wanted to watch on television without having a committee or a vote.

So after I dropped him off at the light rail station, I drove off and picked up sushi and soup. My favorite shrimp wonton soup from the frozen food section has changed. Yes, improved even. They added noodles. It was even better than normal. So good. A guilty pleasure.

And after that, I started a new series on demand. I watched four episodes of Covert Affairs while Ninja snuggled me. It was lovely.

Then I talked on the phone with Jennie for a while. I paced as I like to when I talk. It drove Bishop crazy. He finally gave up on following me on all fours and settled on his couch and followed me with his eyes instead. It was still mildly disconcerting, but very cute.

When that was done, I returned a missed call from Spring…that turned into a trip down the road to visit. We ended up watching some football. And we played videos from YouTube. And we sang and danced. When she announced she was tired, I left.

I felt good all night. It was a good night, punctuated with lots of texts from HIM. It was a relaxing night. It was just what I needed. Free time is good for the soul. It’s the one thing I was missing from living in the apartment.

Can I let you in on a secret? I didn’t miss him. Not during his guy time. I didn’t miss him one bit. I was ready for him to come home, so I could end my night in his arms. Other than that…I liked the break. We needed the break.

And it made me realize how big the trust is. He tells me all the time that he never worries about whether or not to trust me. He worries that I won’t trust him, that I am so damaged from the years with the ex that it has made it impossible for him to have any freedoms. The free night made me realize how much I trust him. I wasn’t afraid of what he would do left to his own devices. I wasn’t afraid of him not coming home. And that made the night a truly free night. I can breathe once more.

August 22nd, 2010 | Posted in Reflections | 2 Comments »

Since I don’t have anything nice to say…

Author: thenicknick

August 21st, 2010 | Posted in Reflections | 1 Comment »

She’s working against me…

Author: thenicknick

So, I’ve been pretty good the last few days. I’ve been waking up early. I’ve been walking. I’ve been eating right. And it has worked for me. Three pounds later…I’m feeling pleased that there is progress. I’m encouraged. I’m dedicated.

And now…I’m in trouble.

Rachel was bored. When Rachel is bored, bad things happen. Here’s the bad thing. Rachel bakes. And she bakes. And she bakes. And she bakes.

By the time I called home to find I had a surprise waiting for me, Rachel had made a little something for everyone. There were four individual (big big individual) Boston Cream Pies for HIM. And there was The Vegan Can Suck it Mousse for me. And there were two and a half dozen oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. Oh, and we’re all supposed to share ALL of it.

And I already had a big meal planned. I was going to bake bread and make cheese raviolis and Italian meatballs and salad. I still am. I just didn’t know that it was going to be such a big meal…with such a big dessert.

Let’s face it, I can’t say no to dessert. Rachel made it! They can recall my mommy card for that kind of thing.

Guess that means I am supposed to play totally beyond myself and practice moderation. Moderation schmoderation. Please. If I was any good at that I wouldn’t need to diet.

Maybe I just need to find a good song to help boost my metabolism. Yeah, that’s it. So, if you can think of a song that’s going to make me want to dance, let me know.

Of course, there is the very distinct possibility that I won’t need that song at all, that the meal and the dessert will have no impact. That’s right, once again, I may be dehydrating myself. I don’t think I’ll be ruining anything if I tell you that I just finished another From Left to Write Book Club selection.

What is it with me and dog stories? You may remember that I was rendered a puddle after watching Hachiko. Now, I’m so very sad after reading Cowboy and Wills, by Monica Holloway. So, I’m mostly just crying and trying to decide how to structure a post on this book.

We don’t review them, although I have several reviews coming up for some publishers. (I recently received an email telling me that I was selected to review a book because I am influential online. My response: I giggled. Me? Influential?) Instead, when writing for this book club, we dig deep and talk about how this book struck a note in our lives.

Lucky for me, I’ve lead a very rich full life. I can find connections in any number of areas. For now, I’ll working drying my tears and picking a story to share. The story is the easy part. It’s the stopping crying that becomes a challenge.

Guess that means I really need a happy song? Who wants to recommend one of those?

Happy Friday, everyone. May your weekend be long and productive and happy and restful and everything you want it to be.

August 20th, 2010 | Posted in Reflections | 3 Comments »

Happiness is a full keychain…

Author: thenicknick

This is going to sound silly. And maybe it is. All I know is that keys are a big deal. Really they are.

I remember when I was given my first key, the most important key ever. No, it wasn’t to the house I grew up in. We kept a hidden key for that. And when my little sister would forget to put it back, I used it as an opportunity to McGyver my way into the house. (I was very good.)

Instead, my first key was the car key. My mother gave it to me when I passed my driver’s test. And it came with a special key chain. I loved it. Better still, she let me drop her off at work that day and drive myself to school, picking her up after she was done work. (Told you she was a special mom.)

I remember that day, the happiness in my heart as I heard the key clinking around in my purse. Yes, I had made it. I had a car key.

Through the years, I have had numerous keys, but none of them had the impact of that first key, not even the house keys when the ex and I purchased our home years back. Nope. In all those years, there have only been a few keys that really mattered. HIS.

As private as he is, it was huge the day that he gave me keys to the house, keys for the kids to the house, and keys to his truck. We were in the bedroom. It was just before we went to Carmella’s for Dollar Slice Night. I remember the chills going down my spine. I remember how exciting it was. My heart was screaming, ‘You’re in!’

That’s why it was devastating when we broke up and I had to relinquish all the keys. It was like having a piece of me ripped apart. I remember that we were in the bedroom then, too. And I remember how much lighter my key chain felt. I remember how much smaller it looked. See, there is a direct correlation between the number of keys on a key chain and the size of your life. My life became infinitesimally smaller that day.

Sure, soon there were apartment keys, a symbol of my new found independence. And I still had my old house key. And there was my car key. Still, it was weak.

Then everything changed once more. When I moved back in with HIM, I was given my key…again. It felt nice. Optimist that I am, I moved it behind the apartment key to signal its permanence.

Then…the other night…something happened…something that made me so very happy. We were preparing to drive home from visiting friends and HE was going to let me drive the truck. (I feel so big when I do…)

me: (With palm outstretched…)

HIM: What?

me: Keys. I need your keys.

And he made that face while he struggled to get his keys out of his pocket from a seated position.

me: This wouldn’t happen if you gave me back my truck key.

I was teasing. I rarely drove the truck. It really wasn’t an issue.

Only the very next day we were outside talking. And out of nowhere, he reached into the truck and pulled out the keys. (One for the truck, one for the tool box.)

HIM: Here.

me: My keys!

And I opened up my Tiffany’s key ring and put them behind the apartment key and the house key. (We have plans for a new door handle soon. It’s a necessity. If I had a dollar for every time the handle fell off in my hand, I wouldn’t need child support.) Oh, but those keys… Optimism. And happiness.

My key ring is just about full now. I don’t know what else I could possibly need on it. And every time I grab it, I get to smile over my wonderfully full life.

August 19th, 2010 | Posted in Happiness is... | 3 Comments »

A little slap and sniffle…

Author: thenicknick

Sometimes the changes are so gradual that they are almost imperceptible. That’s how it feels. And then something will happen that slaps me in the face like the ginormous wake-up call that it is and moves me to tears.

That’s how Sunday was. It was a little slap and sniffle. I didn’t think I was feeling particularly emotional, but apparently I was. All I knew for sure was that we were hanging out with friends, friends we have a lot in common with. The woman has been going through her separation and divorce at the same time I was. And she has been struggling with money just like I have been.

Only there are some big differences, too. Big big ones. Her boyfriend isn’t being nearly as supportive and understanding as HE is. And Sunday was a prime example.

Boyfriend: I think it’s crazy that I am paying for these kids that aren’t mine.

(And he went on and on.)

HE interrupted him. And I waited, expecting him to commiserate.

HIM: Do you love her?

There was some hemming and hawing, but an ultimate mumbled ‘yeah.’

HIM: If you love her, then you man up. You step up and do what needs to be done because you want to be with her. That’s what a man does.

Boyfriend: Well, the man that made those kids is getting away with not paying.

And my eyes were filling with tears now.

me: They’re not men. They are merely male. There’s a big difference.

The guys walked away for a few minutes. HE had to take a phone call. And the boyfriend had to use the facilities. The women were left to sit there, soaking it all in. We were both sniffling.

Girlfriend: You are so lucky.

I know I am. We talked about it more when we got home.

HIM: I don’t know why you are so sad.

me: I never wanted this for you. I want to be able to pay my bills. I’m trying. I’m looking for a new job. I don’t live this extravagant lifestyle.

HIM: Babe, I’m not worried. I’m prepared to struggle like this for the next two or three years.

me: I’m not prepared to struggle like this for the next two or three months.

HIM: You are so talented and educated, I know you’ll get published or you’ll get a better job. We’re fine.

Only we’re not fine. We’re so much better than fine. I am so blessed to have this man in my life. My kids are so blessed to have his guidance, care, and protection. My heart continually swells from it all. And then it whispers, in his voice, ‘You are loved, Nicknick. You are loved.’ It will all turn out right.

August 18th, 2010 | Posted in Reflections | 5 Comments »

Give yourself a break…

Author: thenicknick

As a divorced single mother, I have a tendency to beat myself up for…well…being divorced. See, I was only going to marry once. I was going to do everything in my power to make the marriage work. I was going to live in the neat little two story home with the proverbial white picket fence with two point five children and a dog.

About that.

We had a dog. In fact over the years we had several dogs. The first, Sara, the ex delivered to me as I was getting ready for work. He literally dropped her into my arms and departed, leaving me standing bewildered and disgusted. I had never had a dog before. Sara was a good companion, but since we were busy, we brought her another companion: Tia. There was nothing I needed less than a miniature and a toy poodle.

Then I had Rachel. And we were gone even more. The result was that I finally managed to convince the ex that I couldn’t raise two dogs and a child while being gone all the time going to college. He bucked. He balked. He argued.

He wasn’t around enough to get a bigger say. And so I found them a home where they could go together. Seemed like a good idea at the time. It was a better idea than any of the alternatives…like keeping them.

The ex shut himself in the bathroom and cried when they were taken away. Yes. Cried. And I think I started hating him just a little then. We had lost a child about a year and a half before. He hadn’t shed a tear. He hadn’t understood the depth of my sorrow. Only there he was crying over these fucking dogs. (Jolene’s right. It does feel good to drop the bomb once in a while.) Yup. I never forgave him for that.

Just like I can pinpoint absolutely the first moment I fell in love with HIM, I can pinpoint the first time I moved from hurt to hate with the ex. And I know hate is a strong word. I don’t use it lightly. And I’ll never share all the reasons, the justifications for those feelings, but…if you knew, you’d understand. Really.

Just know that we had lots of issues through the years. There were lots of things that I was expected to forgive and forget. And you can say you will, you can try all you want, but sometimes, no matter your intentions, it just sits there lurking in the back of your mind collecting dust, waiting to be thrown front and center in any relevant argument.

That’s what I did with him. I armed myself, I guarded my heart. I was tense and hurt and sad and mostly angry all the time. You wouldn’t have recognized me. I didn’t know I could be like this…happy. I wanted to be. Only it isn’t easy to finally have what you wanted.

It’s scary. It’s scary because it could all be gone in the blink of an eye…again. And it’s scary to think about failing…again. And it’s scary to think about hurting or disappointing the kids…again.

Then I decided to let it all go. The truth is…

A bad first marriage is a good learning experience.

Because of it I learned…

People don’t really change. I know you may argue that point some, but I kept waiting for the ex to grow up and become the person he claimed he wanted to be. Now his new girlfriend is the one waiting. I wish her luck with that.
Finding the right fit is a trial and error process. It’s a matter of finding the flaws you want to live with. Choose wisely.
Loving someone doesn’t make them right for you. Just as a person loving you doesn’t make them right either.
Sometimes a person can claim to love you, but still hurt you over and over and over again. And that’s not any kind of love I want any part of.
You can be right or you can be happy. You can’t be both. Choose happy. I spent seventeen years with the ex. I was never wrong. And I was miserable.
Sometimes you can have the life you always imagined on paper, only to find it empty and lacking. We looked good on paper, even on photo paper. It was still a shell of the life I could have had, the life I’m working on having.
Sometimes you need to take a chance, make scary choices, and be willing to give up some things to get others that are far more important. I gave up financial security. I gave up my house. I gave up constant travel and entertainment. And because of that, I am free to be with someone who loves me and will never hurt me. Small price to pay, huh?

And now…I’m ready to take a stand. I’m ready to reclaim my life. I want to shake off all the old BS and move forward. It’s a new day.