when i read this today, a moving article about people and cats and who/what one gives time to, i found myself prompted to turn a thoughtful eye on my own life. i admire the author and dear friend who put those thoughts to the page because behind all of it i get the sense that she loves what she does. i don't glamorize the life of a freelancer, nor do i equate satisfaction with the guise of i'm-perpetually-happy: those are two distinct subjects. what i recognize instead is that where one spends time reflects and influences a person's life.
i'm 39 and i've been divorced for eight-ish years. thank you, state of california, for making that date such a fuzzy target. do i go by the date i petitioned the court? or after the requisite six months passed?
i'm 39 and i'm divorced and i still don't talk about it very openly because who knows the source of my meager web traffic. i'm assuming it's mostly people i personally know or who knew me once. the sparse comments certainly don't contribute to my clarity. but, you know, i'm sure i could offend someone or hurt someone else.
i've done all of that before here. i alienated the best friend who grew up around the corner from me because of a misunderstanding and i've never been able to reconnect with her. i tried. i donated to the cause when she was sick. i was (am) so sorry.
so i chucked my entire blog. the bits and bytes are backed up on a flash drive. memories, apologies, my life in ones and zeros.
i'm 39 and i just took my first self-defense class ever. suddenly i'm thinking on all those things my mother tried to tell me. i'm feeling vulnerable and hesitant about not traveling in pairs from place to place. where's that balance, i wonder? the one that is cautious and careful but lives life fully and isn't intimidated by being alone?
allow me to return to the point, which is life. i'm 39 and independent. i'm strong. i've earned my keep and i have a bonafide career where i get tasked to work on things that occupy my brain to the fullest capacity (but not constantly). i love the work. concurrently, i'm also alone.
at this point i can go a couple of ways. i could tell you about how i reminisced on the past minus all its blemishes (many that i take equal responsibility for, mind you). i could tell you about the pangs of terror at the thought of stepping into 40 under my current set of circumstances. pushing the tears aside though, what i'll tell you is the pervasive nugget of truth in all of this: i persist.
i persist and the tremors of sadness are temporal things that are swept sideways by the deeper truths: i have an amazing companion in the remaining cat from the trio i had eight-ish years ago
**i wrote this in april 12, 2016, but i just stumbled on it today. i hadn't finished my thought at the time, but i'm finally ready to publish it. it's worth mentioning that that backup of my former blog was inadvertently cannibalized when i was backing up my computer about six months ago. i'm sorry it happened, but what is the point in bemoaning the loss? so many things were eaten up then, save those files i'd bothered to care for: my photos and my music. interestingly, my notes and papers from paralegal classes survived, but none of my writing. zero.
it's time to start again.