60

Today is my half birthday and it is a significant one.  My last birthday in my 50s.  And next year...

60.

So technically I'm currently in my sixtieth year  This is my 60th summer.  And so on.

I had long toyed with the idea of  committing to blogging in my march to 60.  For the past four post divorce years I've blogged here on and off.  A lot of rantings, a lot of musings.  Actually over 90 postings, most of which are private...for my eyes only.  All done anonymously.

Til now.

What I had intended going forward to be a 'here-I-am-60-nothing-to-be-afraid-of" badass middle aged divorced woman banner is now more of a one-day-at-a-time-life-can-bite-you-in-the-butt saga.

Why?  What is different?

I didn't anticipate selling my house and living crammed up in my mother's guest room.

But here I am.

I didn't fathom my beloved son spending a month in a residential recovery program.

But he has.

  I couldn't imagine a person so dear to me, a friend of nearly 40 years fighting the beast.  Cancer.  Pancreatic cancer.

I am gutted.

I didn't dream - but had much hoped - that I would be fortunate enough to have someone in my life again.  A significant other.  A man.  A very manly man.

But I think I do.  But in thinking so am taking little tiny baby steps to getting close.  We both seem to be.

Honestly, lately, I do not feel up for the challenge.

But then again.

I am.

Broken

My beautiful boy...how I have failed you.

Failed to keep you safe.

Failed to keep you secure in knowing.

That you are the very essence of goodness.  Pure.  Sensitive.  Vulnerable.

What hardship is this that you currently bear?  Why can't I take it away?  Why can't I make it better?

Did I ever?  Did I ever really, truly ever make it better?  Born so perfect, so knowing, so sweet.

How I would love to hold your beautiful little self in my arms again; angelic blond curls; cherubic face.  Truly, truly a gift.

How can I keep you from despair if I myself surrender?

I Still Cry

So an old friend contacted me last week, out of the blue, asking if I would like to have lunch.  Of course.  She and I did dinner theater back in the day.  She and I have lived in the same state for over 20 years.

She and I have not seen each other since my divorce, which is going on four years.

She is friends with my ex, has known him longer than me and I know that they have seen each other - for lunch - several times in the past four years.

So it was a pleasant enough lunch, reminiscing, catching up on kid news.

She then made the comment that my ex was so down all the time; in person, on FB.  That he told her the divorce was a COMPLETE SURPRISE, a SHOCK to him.  Didn't see it coming.

Of course he didn't.

Then the punchline...

He told her he was pretty certain that there was someone else in my life.  That that had to be it.  That he was fairly certain I had cheated on him.

Wow.

Well I refuted it of course.  But why?  Why did I feel the need?  I have NOTHING to prove to this woman.

It made me angry that my suspicions about how the divorce was being 'spun' by my moronic ex were realized.  That someone had to ask (very bad taste if you ask me).  And it made me sad.  Sad that I had wasted SO many years just hanging in; sad that I HADN'T strayed.  Sad that I had gone without, without love, without sex, without civility for SO. MANY. YEARS.

And here I am nearly four years later, still coming into my own.  Actually am seeing a new man.  Have a date tomorrow night as a matter of fact.  But between seeing him, between those times with him when I feel an incredible lightness of being, I start to doubt.  Doubt I'm good enough, young enough, thin enough.  The ex is a  maestro at orchestrating the doubt in my head.  Actually he took up where my mother left off; and she is picking up where he left off.  I know, I know...the old Eleanor Roosevelt quote that you have to let someone make you feel insignificant, that the act itself is not that powerful.

I call bullshit.  Especially when it comes from someone who you trust and who is supposed to love you.

So I cried a little bit, right at the table, at the revelation.  I hope she felt an inch tall.

Whine City

So if you've come here for intelligent, clever, uplifting chatter...

Keep moving.

I'm not going to make it.  Now don't go contacting some international po po to locate my house and bust the door down to prevent me from offing myself.  I would never do that...well, I think I wouldn't.

But sometimes it looks promising.

I am really screwed.  Negative, negative, NEGATIVE.  Don't let her get under your skin.  Don't let her get into your head.  Says my therapist.  Says my kids.  UUUGGGGHHH!!!!!!!  They don't have to live her.

I calmly tried to have the talk about her maybe going into an independent living community  but the  bottom line is she is too cheap, too selfish, and too hermit like to even try and have a decent rest of her life.  She has the means.  Sadly what she lacks is the wherewithall.

No, she rather sit and bitch, night after night after NIGHT AFTER NIGHT AFTER FUCKING NIGHT!!!!!!

I gotta get out of here.  I have to leave.  I AM ISOLATED AND THAT IS NOT GOOD FOR ME.  I don't want to do a Carrie Fisher and  croak off when I'm only 60!!!!  The stress is KILLING ME.

I have no one to talk with...I even texted 'the crush' today.  Certainly not to talk about anything in particular but just to comment on a post of his on FB.

NOTHING.

WHAT THE FUCK?????????????????????????????????

Come on...toss me a bone will YOU PLEASE!!!!!!  At least respond 'haha'.  Let me know that you at least got it and fucking looked at it for a half a second.

UGH...just forget it.

NOBODY GIVES A SHIT... NOT ONE LITTLE SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Tired of being EVERYTHING TO EVERY FUCKING BODY...

Because basically you give your self fucking totally away and have nothing left.

N-O-T-H-I-N-G!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!