is this thing on?
Dear reader it has been almost a month since my last confession post and I’m not even sorry. To be quite honest this just hasn’t been on my mind. Girlfriend is going much better than expected, work challenges keep me on my toes, and I threw in a week away with family over the fourth just because things weren’t busy enough. The point of this post will be revealed but I need to give a bit of setup.
Thursday must have been stormy as hell here in Illinois because O’Hare issued a ground stoppage which means my flight in Seattle couldn’t even take off until clearance was issued. Long boring travel delay story short I didn’t get home and in my bed until 3:30am. My first call Friday morning was at 7:30 so it meant I had roughly three and a half hours of sleep going on throughout the day and I was a cranky bitch for most of it.
Sleep was all I wanted to do but in an effort to normalize my schedule I fought to stay awake as long as possible. I ate my weight in Pizza last night and settled in for some concentrated hibernation level sleep but my brain had other ideas.
As I tried to doze all kinds of thoughts were racing through my brain but the one that got me typing today was about this writing space. I initially felt guilty because I couldn’t remember when I posted last and then I wondered why. As I thought about it I came to the realization that I don’t need this interaction as much as I did before and the reason surprised me. I have someone I talk to every day that actually gives a shit what is happening in my life. Simple as that.
This might seem strange to those who know me in real life but for the last five years of my marriage and then the next five years post divorce I didn’t really have anyone. (real life family and friends calm down because there is no way I was going to reach out to any of you on a daily basis and talk through my nonsense. That’s not a thing.) So now there is someone immune to my conversational misdirection shenanigans that really wants to know what is happening and how I feel. This is strange for me.
My therapist is going to have fun with this one but I don’t talk to her as much either. This must be what it feels like to be at peace. weird.
And now because you’ve endured this unfunny rambling I will reward you with another awful picture from my past brought to you by the good people at the Olan Mills photo studio and featuring myself and my younger brother. Buckle up because there is a lot to unpack here…
Why my brother was allowed to dress like a disco pimp and I had to look like a suburban dad I’ll never know. My siblings hair is a helmet and mine looks like a couple of different wigs fighting for dominance on my head. The fake wood fence and country backdrop doesn’t really fit because these two would be better served posing aside a brass railed bar top. No idea how the creep taking the picture got us to both to smile at the same time AND in such an odd way. Finally, the bags under both of our eyes indicate a lack of sleep story that I need to know more about but never will. Okay I already said finally but it just occurred to me that both of these fellas should speak broken English.
You’re welcome.