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The pleasure of simple things

You have no idea the delight of a full shopping cart or sitting across a restaurant table sharing a meal with my son or being able to say yes – those $31 dollar jeans – yes we can get those.

I pay the phone bill, the gas bill, the electric bill and I marvel at how blessed I am to have found a job.

I take nothing for granted, but oh how I enjoy the pleasure of these small things.

Rethinking Love

It has been (is it possible?) 3 years since I split up with No. 5; he pretty much suffocated my belief in love. For the first time in forever I couldn’t imagine loving anyone again.

Ever.

This was/is a good thing. For the first time in forever I wasn’t turning myself inside out to please someone else for a few crumbs of affection. I never looked back, but neither did I look forward.

A comment on my blog the other day got me thinking about love again. The commenter, a 5 time divorcee, noted that people make comments on the number of experiences, and, I think, wonder why she doesn’t just give up.

I, in essence gave up.

But this video made me wonder – is love still possible – still possible after baggage and bitterness, hard knocks and anger?

Have I given up too soon?

Tip of the hat to Shape+Colour for the link.

Happy Valentine’s Day

Pretty good likeness don't you think?

Pretty good likeness don't you think?

Seeking Balance

When I was unemployed I had too much free time.

Waking up each morning, the day stretched out like a cross country drive with no scenery.  Nothing distinguished morning from night.  I functioned on auto-pilot doing the mundane necessary daily tasks until I settled onto the couch where  I became stillness personified. Not the stillness that comes from peace, rather the stillness that comes from fear.

Now, I have no free time.

Waking up each morning I have a drive stretched out that bookmarks morning and night.  In the office the day moves at such a pace I rarely notice anything but the files in front of me.  I fly through the mundane self care tasks of my morning, hit the road (fast) mile after mile until I arrive at work, climb the stairs to my office, where (you know what’s coming)  I sit still. Not the stillness of peace, rather a frenetic Ihavetofinisheverything stillness.

The constant fear of homelessness, of not having food, of not being able to do or go anywhere is easing. But guess what replaces it? The gnawing fear of not being successful enough at work; the fear of not being busy enough at work, fear even in the face of mountains of work.

I love my job; I am beyond grateful to have a job.

I am so stressed by the fact of the job in juxtaposition to the economy and factoring in my age and years left to work and debt and the bills from my hospitalization (BP 240/160) in November (no medical care/no money for docs) and utility bills and car payment bills that my neck is often in spasm and I get migraines.

Seeking balance, I balance my hours and look forward to sleep.  Seeking balance I ask forgiveness of myself, for myself.

It takes time to rebuild a life where poverty has been an issue.

I need time.

Waiting for Spring

“Every mile is two in winter. “~George Herbert

I have a substantial commute to work, and by substantial I mean long. I was not naive, I knew the commute would be tough. First off, I start work at 8 AM, and if you live an hour and fifteen minutes away (under optimal conditions) you have to start your day early, real early.  I am up and on the road before most of my neighbors are stirring.

I have lived in Ohio most of my life, I am well aware of winter.  I have made regular long term commutes to jobs before, but never have I experienced winter driving the likes of which January presented.  Let’s talk about the -10 morning when barely 5 miles into my journey a truck spun out in front of me on I-271, nearly hitting me and leaving me shaking.  I had been on the job less than a month and I didn’t think I could make it to work that day.

And I didn’t.

I ended getting off the freeway and calling my boss, whom I had assured the commute would be “no problem” to tell him I thought it was too dangerous to drive.  Lucky for me, he was understanding.  When we had the 10 (and I swear it was more) inches a week or so later, I persevered and made it in to work.

It took me 2 1/2  hours.

I have new respect for winter driving.

The Peaceful Transition of Power

hope1

Hope is both the earliest and the most indispensable virtue inherent in the state of being alive. If life is to be sustained hope must remain, even where confidence is wounded, trust impaired.

Erik H. Erikson

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