Independence
“Think of all the FREE TIME you’ll have,” my well-meaning friends assured me when I confessed that I was devastated by moving out of my home.
Free time, I mused (while probably pooping). What a novel concept. Those two words fit together in my brain about as well as “Tom Greene” and “thong bikini.” While I’d heard about this “free time,” in the same way I’d heard about “anal sex” and “fun,” neither made any sense. Sure, I couldn’t recall the last time I’d been able to take a pee without the company of at least two humans and several cats vying for my attention and/or lap. Bathroom time was Happy Hour in my house and while it was somewhat awkward when there were guests afoot (who really wants to have to listen to someone else pee while a small child yells, “MOMMY FARTED?”)(Answer: not most people)(I assume), I’d grown so accustomed to it that whenever I stayed in a hotel, I needed some drab talk radio on to actually take care of business.
(what, me neurotic?)
So the nebulous concept of this “free time” didn’t really sink in as something someone would actually strive for.
And for months following my departure from Casa de la Sausage and my arrival at the FBI Surveillance Van, I didn’t know what to do with myself. Certainly, I had scads of time with which I could watch Mad Men reruns and fantasize about wrestling Don Draper in a vat of lime Jello, but it didn’t feel particularly… freeing. Instead (cue violins) it felt quite lonesome.
Starting over after a divorce – much like using the microwave – it seemed, was not, no matter how simple it looked on television, an easy process. In fact, I’d happily have shoved a porcupine up my snatch rather than start over.
Slowly, though, things, as they always do, began to change. I found a job. Then another. Then another still. Work kept me occupied and reminded me that while I may have felt like a steaming pile of dog vom, I had skills and I had the ability to take care of myself – two things I’d forgotten I possessed.
I began to reform old friendships and sought new ones. The times in which I was neither working nor taking care of crotch parasites began to fill. The formerly nebulous concept of “free time” became time in which I was able to do as I pleased with whomever I pleased – no one needed to know where I was or what I was doing at any given time.
My apartment, which had, in months prior, felt so empty without the giggles of my children, began to fill with laughter and love. I found myself laughing and smiling without the aid of a stunt double. My heart, once defeated, filled slowly with light.
Life, I finally was able to say (without fingers crossed behind my back), was going to be okay – no, it was better than okay. My life was finally becoming something I’d be proud to live.
And I am.
One year after my world fell apart, I’m still standing. The life I’d been so terrified to leave behind pales in comparison to the vibrant days I now live. Getting from there to here was, at many points, something I’d never thought I’d be able to do. So many days in between I didn’t believe worth breathing – dark, dark days, followed by even darker nights.
But now, today, my days and nights, they’re filled with laughter and love.
And my heart, well, it soars.
Becky,
I’m really happy for you. You’ve been in my heart so much this last year. It’s wonderful that you are fining peace and happiness, love and laughter in your life again. Many hugs.
That’s the thing about “one step at a time”. Eventually you do ( Surprise!) get there.
Congratulations young Aunt Becky.
I’m so glad to hear that things are getting better. It’s not easy to face so many changes all at once and, while time doesn’t heal every wound, it does get easier to stop picking at the scab as time moves on.
So happy to hear this… it does take time, and some days are still going to be tough. However, you’ve got the right thought processes now… Good luck!! {hugs}
So happy to hear this!!! I’ve been thinking a lot about you lately (especially after that last post about your job) so this makes my hear soar!
Sherry
I’ve seen so many of my friends go through this and nearly gone through it myself, so it’s always encouraging to hear someone say (or read someone type) that they are OK and that it wasn’t the end of their world after all. You may not realize how many people you are encouraging with this post, but there are lots and lots of shattered people out there who need to hear (read) this. Congrats to you!
I’m glad to hear that you’re feeling good again and that life is looking up. Its very encouraging every time I see someone go through something so devastating only to eventually emerge on the other side stronger and happier than before.
This made me so happy to read. You deserve it, Aunt Becky. Don’t you dare tell yourself otherwise.
Happy Birthday. It sounds like life is getting better and I’m really glad to hear it.
I am overjoyed to hear it, truly! You kick ass, Bex. I’m glad your life kicks ass, too. It’s a good match. 🙂
That’s it girl!! Move forward and make it happen for you!
I’m sending this to someone who needs to read it today. THANK YOU. xo
AWESOME!!!! SO happy for you!
You go girl!
Dude, I was just thinking about you today and how I had not heard anything from you in a long while. Glad to hear you are thriving. I expected nothing less.
It’s been a while since I’ve been active in the blogging world, so I took the liberty of going through a good bit of your past postings.
I am sorry for the darkness you went through, but overjoyed at your current happiness. May the light and love you’ve found follow you everywhere.
Truely happy for you, dear Aunt Becky. 🙂
AB- so glad to hear this news! Big hugs
AB! I’m so happy for you! I was watching Bob Ross and wearing my shut your whore mouth shirt, totally thought of you. Glad you are doing better. I have been going through a divorce too. A lot of your posts resonated with me, I didn’t feel so alone. It takes a lot of dark days and dark nights of the soul to find yourself again, I’m glad you have. Bask in that love and light, you deserve it more than most Becky!
It sounds like things are definitely moving in the right direction fr you, which is a great relief to me.
I’m sending you a story again because i don’t know where else to send it. i got it from recovery from Mormonism, though it is paraphrased. It was related to something you tweeted, but i couldn’t tweet anything that long. I don’t know how else to send it. If you don;t want it in your commments section, as it is long, please delete it and then i’ll know you saw it and are not interested or don’t want it here. again, it is not my story. i merely paraphrased it. I’m not trying to blog fom yur comments section.
Auntie, I don’t know if you’ll see this, but I told you on the Twitter that i would post a message here because it won’t fit on the Twitter. I don’t know how to do that lengthy Twitter thing.
Anyhow, you were discussing “The best part of waking up is Folger’s in your cup.” A poster on the Ex-Mormon board I frequent [but seldom if ever actually post there because some of the regulars are hostile to newcomers no matter how hard one tries to be polite and unassumaing and to follow the convention of the message board] posted in interesting story. It ended up being rated number two in a poll related to the funniest story even posted there. #1 was a story abiut a guy who gave the Mormon equivalent to a sermon in a Mormon church [Mormons call them “talks”] unknowlingly with a Kotex stuck to the top of his toupee, which his bratty two-year-old had just removed from a diaper bag, upeeled from the covering of the sticky strip, and stuck on top of his father’s head right before he, the father, approached the pulpit. The father thought his son was just patting him on the head. That, too, is a great story, and I can find a link for it if you’re ever intereted. (My mom’s best friend was the author.)
Back to the Folger’s story, as you probably know well, drinking of coffee is forbidden by the LDS Church’s Word of Wisdom, which is a scripture in their Doctirne and Covenants. In this particular case, the scripture was a revelation goven directly from God to joseph Smith, and mentions hot drinks, strong drinks, and tobacco, as not being for the bellyor body, and says that meat should be eaten sparingly and that the mainstay of one’s diet should be wheat and the fruit and vegetables of the season. Joseph and the rest of the braintrust interpreted “strong drinks” to mean anything with alcohol, “hot drinks” to mean anything with caffeine, including cold drinks with caffeine but not hot chocolate [which contains caffeine; go figure] , and pretty much ignored the part about eating meat sparingly and eating the fruits and veggies of the season.
The mother of the story’s author found after her fifteen-bazillionth kid was born that she simply could not cope with the rigors of getting her husband off to work, getting fourteen-bazillion children to off to school, and dealing with the remaining bazillion children at home each morning without chemical assistance. Getting everyone to churhc on time on Sunday was even less feasible Apparently none of the parasites that emerged from the mother’s nether regions (this proper Mormon lady would probably never utter the word “crotch”) was on Ritalin or Adderall, which is, in and of itself, an anomaly among Mormons and their numerous offspring, so she couldn’t raid their supply of prescription stimulants.
The rule was that one could not ingest, as in eat or drink the stuff, right? So the lady got the brilliant idea that it would be permissiable to absorb coffee rectally, i.e. via an enema. From that point to this very day, when she has only two children, both in their latter years of high school, still at home, each morning she brews a fresh batch of Folgers, chills it to the point that she won’t scald her colon, and gives herself a coffee enema.
The original Folger’s jingle,, as you remember, was, “The best part of waking up is Folger’s in your cup.” The poor exhausted old hag’s fifteen bazillion children sing it a bit differently when their mother is out of hearing range. they sing, “The best part of waking up is Folger’s up your butt.”
Al
P.S. If you delete this, I’ll at least know you saw it.”
P.s.s. Life is not good, but sometimes it gts better.
I have my answer. Thanks. I’ll still worry about you on occasion, but don’t worry about me if you ever did in the first place. I’m not necessarily in a good place but noi anywhere close enough comtemplating to suicide and I’m not even cutting and only pulling my hair a little bit, so no one needs to worry, and I’ll work it all out eventually.
I think that all things should be judged against having a porcupine shoved up your snatch. I think if that’s the basis for comparison, good perspective can be had. 🙂
Congratulations on surviving, and welcome to the other side. It gets better all the time.
I’m now coming up on six months post-separation, and the porcupine-snatch analogy hits the sh!tty nail right on the sh!tty head. But I’m slowly getting to the ‘life is so much better than it was before’ stage and it’s WONDERFUL. All the best to you.
So glad to hear things are getting better!
what a year. glad you’re feeing more positive and filled with good things, aunt motherfucking becky.