warning… this post is being crafted AFTER taking a rather large cocktail of all of the drugs that I’ve been tasked to take, so bear with… ok?

So, it’s Saturday night, 9 days after having my face jackhammered. I’m feeling  better, but still not quite where I feel like I should be. Everyone, including the nurse, the doctor and my friends keep reminding me that I had major surgery, and I need to be patient, however, I want to be better NOW NOW NOW. I want to be digging in the damn dirt, hanging up my flag bunting and organizing my garage. Instead, I am a schlub that has spent 65% of the day laying around with one or two of the dogs driving me insane.  However, I will be compliant, because I run a high risk for infection and I really really really don’t want to get sick again.

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Anyhoo… because I’ve spent most of my past 9 days laying around and pondering life, I’ve come to a few realizations. One is pretty lame and incredibly overdue and the other couldn’t have come at a better time.

Realization 1.

After entirely too long of a span of years waiting for “it” to finally happen, and realizing it was never going to, I think my brain is 100% ready to move on. Not intending to be particularly cryptic, but reticent to hash it all out, essentially, I’ve spent way too many years of my adult life waiting for for a square peg to fit in a round hole. Or put differently, to be enough for someone. The incredibly lame part that I have happily come to realize in the past 12 months is that I’m not the one that wasn’t enough, it was actually him that is sorely and sadly lacking. So many years chasing a dream/tail/idea that maybe it would work out, or perhaps, all of the other stuff would stop and normalcy would ensue. About 3 years I realized that the “stuff” would never stop, and about a year ago, I realized that I was never going to quite be the person that he thought he needed. However, it was about 5 days ago, when I finally had the gigantic “WTF” moment and realized that if I had the chance today, I would slam the door in his face and #byefelicia that ass down the road. I’m not quite sure what made me finally say enough. I mean, the laundry list of misdeeds is certainly long enough, but I think I finally realized, in a haze of lortab, that my life means more to me than wrapping that story up in a hollywood type ending. See, despite all of the ups and downs, I always imagined that our “time” was just a chapter away. That one more bump in the road was going to be what it took for us to make things clear. Or whatever. Who knows. What I do know is that I wasted plenty of time, and probably missed out on some opportunities had my eyes not been so laser effing focused on what I thought I needed.

Anyways… there is a point to this, I promise. In all of the ups and downs of that particular romance/tragedy/pathos, I always had some glimmer of hope that it was going to end somewhat along the lines of When Harry Met Sally. You know the scene, Harry fucks up, and then runs to Sally on New Years Eve, apologizes and says that romantic line of schlock that got many humans twitter-pated oh so many years ago. I know for me, I kinda thought that my Harry moment was just one more bump away. That maybe he would just wake up and say “well shit, I do want to spend the rest of my life with her, and so lets’s finally cut the shit and do it.” But no. It didn’t happen that way, and if my Harriet the Spy sleuthing on social media is any indication, homeboys cheese has done slid off the cracker. I literally don’t want the Harry speech from him. No more big hollywood moment for me and that particular character, thank you very much.  Also- my iPad and constant bed time allows for MUCH internet sleuthing. The things I’ve discovered in the past 9 days… oh the things I’ve discovered.

harriet the spy

Back to my point.  I don’t want that. I don’t know what I want, but I don’t want that. No desire to be someones back up, fall back and or “old gal”, and/or last resort. I don’t want to be navigating life with someone that sees most everything through a booze fog so thick that they forget the point of a 2 minute conversation. What once as considered glamorous is now sad.

ONWARDS to my next point.

So, back to reality. Tonight, I lay in bed, with lovely fresh new sheets (thank you AG for the personal shopping) and I’m watching the conclusion of one of my favorite movies of all time- Anne of Green Gables (the second part, where she starts to have adventures.) BTW- Caren, please come remove these from my house so they don’t get lost and i get accused of “stealing” them again. Ok?

Anne trots around the country taking jobs, meeting men and ultimately realizes that what she doesn’t want is the glamor and diamond starburst/marble halls, but she wants the cute boy that she’s known for a long time, that sees her for who she is, calls her on her crap and pays attention to the details. That’s what most people want, right?

I mean, how precious is that? We all want that moment on the bridge where we see the person we have the hots for walk over to us and just simply say “i want you.”

Duh. Everyone wants that.  I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want some variation of that as well. Maybe not in Nova Scotia, but still.

Life is short. I’ve managed to skirt around some pretty big health issues in these 39 years of my life. I’ve had the C word, and kicked it in its ass. I’ve given a vast majority of my adult life in the hopes of “making it big” with some moronic start up or another. I’ve chased a dream of an incomplete relationship for a long, long time.

However, laying in bed for the last 9 days, thinking about life, I’ve come to some pretty big ass realizations. Life is short and I’m tired of waiting for shit to happen. Instead, I’m going to do what makes me happy when I feel like it. Probably going to be more selfish. Who cares?

I’m watching two friends battle fucking cancer with all of their energy and it leaves me in awe. Daily. I wonder if more of us were faced with a hastened mortality, we would transact our lives differently? Or would we sit around waiting for someone to kick us in our ass?

June is going to be a month of change for me. Making some personal changes. Making some health changes. Making some changes to the contents of my contacts in my phone.  I don’t want to enter my 40’s in the same headspace I am in now. I don’t want to enter my 40’s with this body in the current condition it is in.

I don’t want to waste one more minute waiting for the Harry speech. I don’t necessarily want diamond starbursts or marble halls (really, i’m more of a mid century mod kinda gal, with a penchant for hardwood and glass) but I think I deserve better than what I’ve allowed myself to have thus far.


So, as May comes to a close, I’m going to say #byefelicia to that chapter. I’m going to step away from other things that bring me literally ZERO joy. I’m going to focus on the happy, finding the joy, pleasure and selfishly, doing things that make me smile.

and now I’m going to go watch Gilbert Blythe make Anne Shirley fall in love with him.