As one of my more eventful years in recent history comes to an end so does a chapter. I relocated to NOVA some six months ago to a job I thought would be a good transition but instead it turned out to be a soul sucking misadventure. As my last month at this job winds down I am happy to report that it is better to be unemployed than miserable. I am at a stage in my life where the thought of being unemployed does not scare the shit out of me.
I knew almost before I started working at this job that the energy was off. It was at a point I could not just turn around and says ooops, sorry never mind. I had to move forward and hope for the best. The best never came and as the days turned into weeks and months the prospect of being stuck at this job unhinged me a bit. I navigated between wanting to outright quit and hoping they would fire me. After some research I learned I would not be eligible for unemployment with them so I kept moving forward and I secretly yet intensely job searched. There were a few near misses and downright droughts while looking. I was determined to not give up on the new area because in fact I really enjoy living in my new home State. The quality of life is amazing if you factor out car property taxes and the insanity that is the rush hour traffic.
A week ago I had reached my tipping point at this toxic working environment and decided I was going to outright quit. Fuck it, I figured I would uber drive until I found something more stable. I walked into the bosses office but he was on a call and my direct boss was busy so I sent an email that we had to have a meeting. The direct boss postponed a Friday meeting to the following Monday and I almost lost my nerve. A person with my level of health problems is not a great candidate to be uninsured. As I began to waver I got an email that I was being offered a new job at a place I interviewed weeks before. By the end of business that same day I had signed and accepted the new offer. I was practically skipping into work on Monday. It was a relief to see some light at the end of a very long dark tunnel.
I am nervous as fuck to be the new kid in town again but every new experience is an opportunity for a success or a lesson. Here is hoping for success.
Know thy self and suffer for no one.
The last six weeks has seen me go up and down mood wise in a way that I am surprised has not ruined my life.
At work I am adjusting from being the supervisor to being supervised. Bumpy would be a gentle way of putting it. I have outright confronted my boss on her management skills and have threatened to quit. She told me to reconsider and give it more time. She has since stopped hovering over me but now is sending emails instead. I guess that is slightly an improvement. I hate feeling insecure with something I know how to do. She is trying to prove herself and I am at a stage in my life/career where I just want to go to work, do my job and live my life. Work for me, is no longer my life but just a means to an end. I need work to pay my bills and have health insurance. I have sent out my resume to other job opportunities and have only gotten responses from head hunters which is good but not great. I feel too old to be a temp. I need certainty in my life not the roller coaster of will they or won’t they hire me.
On the romantic front I have taken steps to be rid of Mr. TexMex. It should have happened sooner but the loins want what they want. A couple of things had to happen I guess because him using his penis as a weapon against me wasn’t enough. I recently told him about a health issue I have been struggling with, chemo pills, and his response was just his luck that it would have libido side effects on my part. He turned something like chemo to about him and his inability to make me orgasm. Then a few weeks later we had planned to meet up at a location familiar to both of us, since we have both relocated to other states. The Tuesday before the Friday we were supposed to meet he tells me to cancel hotel room because he might not be able to make it and we should reschedule for the following weekend. I said no. I partly lied and told the truth. I had asked to leave work early to make it to our destination on time( I’m already in a shit place with work) and I already had plans for the following week(not necessarily true). My schedule could not and would not revolve around his chaos. We had our second real fight and I told him if he wanted to reschedule he would have to come to where I currently live. Hence we are at a stand off. I refuse to let him bend me out of shape anymore. The decision itself brought a calm over me and a sadness too.
My weight has fluctuated up again much to my frustration. I am in a shit mood and my waddling isn’t helping. I have looked into programs like crossfit or the max challenge. I need a sense of community to follow through with any weight loss regimen. I have tried to tackle it myself in the past to disastrous results. Conventional gyms do nothing for me but if I can’t find something else that fits my schedule I guess I will go that route. I recognize that the time I was out of commission due to ankle fracture that diet had a lot to do with my weight loss. I need a program that reinforces realistic dietary guidelines.
This weekend I bypassed my medication and free fell into a deep sadness. I was tired of ignoring it and have it nudge at me. Today I took my medication, pushed myself out the door and have engaged with the living. Getting myself out of the house was quite a feat. Thank goodness for beautiful libraries that open on Sundays.
My social landscape has changed dramatically. It is still unnerving how friendly people are and in the same token complete asshats while driving. I get that the absurd traffic is nothing to sneeze at but damn . The tale of two people in the same person it seems is the operating social standard.They are Southerner friendly as long as you are not pissing them off on the road. Road rage brings out the redneck in them VERY quickly.
To counter the fact that I do not have a friend network yet I have gone at full speed with meetup groups. So far I have joined a couple of book clubs, writing groups,gaming groups and happy hour groups. My motto is still have wheels, will travel. Yesterday I stood by it and drove two hours I think technically southwest to my part of Virginia to go to this beautiful vineyard. It was the perfect night for it too. It was not cold or too hot. No clouds in the sky and the backdrop to the sunset was amazing. The cover band was playing a variety of old rocks tunes and the wine was amazing if albeit a bit pricey for a glass of what turned out to be my favorite wine, some peachy flavored one. The age range varied but leaned heavily into the older crowd, which despite my age is where I fall lifestyle wise. I am an early empty nester. Most of my age contemporaries have small to teenage children.
I circulated the happy hour group last night and met some great people. The common thread between most of them was their love of all things wine, Virginia and work was mostly in the government in jobs that if they shared with me too many details they would have had to kill me. One guy stood around awkwardly and I brought into the fold at the first table I sat with. He was average height, deep blue eyes and salt and pepper blond hair. If I had to guess his age I would say somewhere at the tail end of 40 something, very early 50 something. He gave the impression that his job was in line with the tech underground of “missions”. He seemed nice enough and even took my obligatory picture of the night with the sun setting behind me but lost my interest when he pulled out what I guess is a vaper thing. I have asthma so any level of smoking is a bad deal. I ended up at another table where there were two ladies who warned me to sit on the opposite side as to not tip the table over. It apparently had just happened with another fellow wino. They were a hoot to talk to and the oldest of the ladies heard her favorite song and got up and swayed her hips to the music.
It took two hours to get there and I stayed two hours slowly sipping my wine and taking in the sights, the smells and feeling generally at ease. This could easily be my forever state of residence.
I can’t say the same about the new job. The people are nice enough but I am not used to be micromanaged. When you go from being the supervisor to being supervised it is a bumpy transition. Having said all that I am grateful for the job and the opportunity it has afforded me to connect with my new area.
Note to self: looking back at things does not always help. Yes it might give you perspective but it also might make you see it in a light it never was.
So in two weeks I meet up again with the guy I have been “seeing” for lack of a better word. It started sometime at the end of February and due to a storm and a broken ankle it got pushed back to meeting sometime in mid April. I can’t say that I was attracted to him at first sight. He is not unattractive just different than what could be considered my usual. Thus is the pattern with most guys I end up caring about. Well there was that one Hungarian which I was instantly attracted to. I still think of him fondly mostly our naked adventures stand out the most.
We had our first real fight sometime at the end of May. I figured we would never see each other again and it would have been the best thing. During our time with no contact I finally figured out how to spell his unique spanish last name. Oh dear on the treasure trove of intel I found. It still did not necessarily make him an outright liar but it did put the timeline of what he did share into question. I was pissed and in the spirit of trying to forget him I forged into a series of casual hook ups. None of them really gave me that same wow factor. It is not so much that we and the texmex are necessarily sexually compatible but more that he woke something up in me that I thought had died some years ago.
For me pleasure is not necessarily found in the sex but in the mental stimulation. If you can engage me in intellectual conversation,there is always hope my body will follow. If you have a wicked and twisted sense of humor, there is hope. If you match the intensity of my personality, there is hope.
When people ask me how the hell I ended up with my ex-husband I used to be stumped for answers. On paper and in practice we are not a match. He served a purpose though as he propelled me into becoming the force of nature I am now. And the kid. For the kid I would do it all over again, the good, the bad and the downright scary.
This one relationship has shaped all others that have come after. This doesn’t mean I have to stick to this pattern. It is just my familiar place, not necessarily my happy place. I am the only constant in all the shit situations I find myself in, especially in regards to men. Texmex is no different. He is ultimately not good for me and I should block him from all our shared social media but I can’t and more scary to me, is I am not sure I want to. I like the spark I feel but something that burns this bright, this soon is not healthy. For everything I know about him there are layers that have to be discovered. How horrified do I have to be to finally say enough?!!
In a year I have broken my right ankle, moved to a purple part of a generally red state, got a new job where the exorcist was filmed, and have embarked in a complicated relationship with someone with so many secrets it is hard to define the concept of truth.
A difference a year makes. Around this time last year I was planning my suicide. This year I am working on acclimating to my new surroundings trying to make connections within my new area.
At the beginning of this year I made a few new years resolutions, which I have historically forgotten and abandoned by mid February, but 2018 has been different. I have climbed and crushed all of them. I am in the market for some new ones.
As of a little more than half of 2018 is gone I will add on some more goals.
I plan on riding a bike.
I hope to find commitment; someone who cares not because they have to but because they want to.
I am working toward fixing my finances to a place where the stress is less but my credit score is more.
I will actively seek experiences that make me happy and/or teach me something new.
Respect the past but don’t live there. The world is as big or small as you make it.
I used to love blogging but I also have noticed that this has become more of an update space than say a “blog”. Such is life these days I guess. I have spent this year living more than thinking about stuff too deeply.
In January I made a few resolutions: Look for a job in a lower cost of living space and preferably somewhere I have never lived, get laid, and get my finances under control.
So of that list I have hit every single one, except maybe the lower cost of living part. I got a new job and will be moving to NOVA sometime this summer. Finding a reasonable or what I considered reasonable is feeling unrealistic for the area. I had no idea how expensive it could run and how the traffic gives NYC rush hour traffic a run for their money. Fuck, my car is looking like the only reasonable financially sensible place to live. I know I will figure it out but the stress is overwhelming if I give it too much thought.
After many years of a drought I have taken getting laid and have run with it. All experiences have been positive with the exception of the fragile male ego and incompatible partners that could not find my g-spot with a map and a miners lamp. There was that one guy who left an impression on me. I enjoyed his company and I miss our talks and our weekly fucks, albeit orgasmless( at least for me). I knew he was married but he said separated but once I could figure out how to spell his uncommon last name I realized he was less separated than he had led me to believe. It was heartbreaking. I find this all out after he came for a last round, got what he wanted and then casually said, “I don’t think this is working out”, in reference to my inability to orgasm with him. He proceeded to snuggle with me and left and I doubt I will ever see him again. I know it is the right thing, him being gone, but I do miss him.
In March I broke my driving ankle. Who knew picking up a paper from a rolling chair could be so dangerous. I was out of work for two months. Side note: The day I fell was the day I had my first phone interview with my now new/future company.
It all happened so fast, the accident, then surgery followed by the painful recovery and dealing with the nightmare that is WComp. I am finally on the mend and have gotten back to most of my regular activities, with a slight limp/waddle to my step. In the middle of all the ankle chaos my mom travels to help me for a couple of weeks and spreads her magic everywhere. Everything starts looking up for me financially and physically, just in time for another set of chaos, moving and reestablishing myself somewhere new.
So recently I had a fall at work and inadvertently broke my right ankle. It has put life in perspective and highlighted the ones that care or the ones that just simply say they care.
Before this incident I had taken for granted that I was a very independent. I took for granted showers, urinating, walking and general care of my essential day to day stuff. My current reality is that of assisted showers, meals and supervised bathroom activities. In the last week I have been released from physical therapy center and have been alone at home. Despite the constant bickering I miss my mom’s presence. I also came to the realization that “arguing” is how we essentially communicate.
Here I stand on one leg and it is humbling on so many levels. I am one of the lucky ones in my current situation. I have my mom who has swooped in and been my biggest helper in things I needed help in and in times of when I could not advocate for myself and she has picked up the slack where the workers comp people have failed, miserably. Because of these insurance people, I was sent home with no equipment from the hospital, have had to fight for transportation to and from doctors appointments and been told that my only obstacle in not being able to travel on my own is my weight not the fact that I broke my right ankle in several places at work.
After much back and forth I have the necessary equipment but I am trapped in my apartment and have been told that I am required to get to my doctors appointments but that how I get there is on me. Fuck my life. At least I have three weeks to figure out those logistics.
The other stuff on my plate is more emotional in nature. I had hooked up with a guy around St. Patrick’s Day weekend. It was a disappointing experience but he had a great personality and also the smallest penis I have ever seen in my life. I was open to trying again but as it turns out he is not. He said it was not bad, just not great either as sexual experiences go. I showed restraint and did not point out his micro-penis as it would have been seen as saying something in spite. I took a minute and said ok I understand and I wished him well. It ruined the rest of my night. It was a hard blow to my ego. He could have just said we were not compatible and/or had said it sooner than wait until I asked directly. There is a fine line between being the nice guy and being the coward.
On the friend front: I have not expected my friends to physically help me in my current physical situation but to at least call/text/email to see how I am doing. I think a reasonable expectation. It could just be me expecting too much from people.
3 weeks down of recovery, 4 more to go….