I'm so impatient. I'm all, like, I need space to get over this divorce. I'm most definitely NOT going to jump into anything, I'm going to take time for myself and all that groove. And so I did, and so I have, and it's been 3 years.
Three. Years. People.
And now I feel like a normal person again. I mean, mostly. Okay, so my house is still messier than I'd like it to be, and I'm still going back and forth with my ass, and so forth and so on, but in general, I think I could actually have a healthy relationship with another adult. I really could. Would I be kinda scared? Well, yeah, but not so much that I wouldn't just enjoy being happy in the present, and what is there to lose? And I don't need anything from anyone, but it would be nice to have someone to share things with. And I think that all sounds fairly normal. The problem is, I feel like I wake up one day and feel this way and the birds are singing and I open the door and I'm all like, What? No line of men outside the door? I feel like that scene in Mary Poppins where all the nannies are lined up around the block and Mr. Banks won't let the housekeeper open the door until 9:00 sharp, and then one minute later she opens the door...and there's no one there.
This is just one of those vent-y posts. I know that tomorrow I'll get up and go for a walk really early with S, and the sunrise will be gorgeous, and then I'll get a lot of work done and I'll go do reading groups at the Boy's school, and I'll wade through the laundry and I'll pick up the Girl and we'll draw with chalk and I'll have dinner with my dear friend J and laugh and it'll be a good day. I know that. But right now ... damn, you guys. I'm just tired of being alone. I feel like I'm disappearing and nobody can do anything about it, even if they wanted to.