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Monday’s Over

Thankfully!

It’s not that I was annoyed or fed up with hearing and seeing everything V-Day related and the blatent commercialism peering and gloating at me, but it was more about not having that one soul – that one miracle, to join hands or lips with.

There are a few bloggers out there that are going the online dating site method to find that someone unique but not having much luck so far. I did do that for a while but found it bereft of warmth and personality. Maybe that simply means that I had no real luck at it. However, many others have found it a boon and have successfully met mates of great warmth and pleasing personalities. Like anything else, maybe it’s just the luck of the draw.

It’s tough for any of us that are not willing to go to bars spewing seed money at random red dresses, or those of us who have zero interest in a Yoga/Thai cooking class, or feel awkward holding melons and cucumbers in the produce section and with a grin asking a single soccer mom for shopping tips.

Sometimes it does bother me writing about the weariness and the general blasé attitude that comes with continuing the quest of looking for love after relentless searching and restless anticipation. The nights of simply looking down at the city – not necessarily thinking about anything, but bobbing up in the consciousness every so often the thought that it would be so much easier to bear another day and night alone knowing that someone holds you close to their heart and may be looking at the moon at the same time you are.

Or, perhaps they’re wondering, and hoping, that you are thinking of them and softly smiling with eyes closed.

The day after V-Day, when all the candy was on sale at Wal-Mart, I bought fifteen dollars worth of left behind, 50-75% off, odds and ends. I especially concentrated on those boxes of candy hearts with the little sayings engraved on them and made sure that every single woman in the building received a box of them along with a hearty “Happy Valentine’s Day” cheer from me. It seemed to made them all so happy and that, in turn, made me smile.

I did manage to sneak a very small six-pack of dark chocolates to a special someone. The delivery tag said “From – ?”. I’m letting it brew. Hey, you can’t sail if you don’t at least get on the boat, right? Do you have a boat?

Monday the 14th

It’s always such a chilly and barren apartment the day after. I typically feel emotionless but somehow can easily brim up if I dwell on them or look at their pictures on the bookshelf. I’m someone who can walk, I can mindlessly stare out the windows, I eventually eat when the pangs are loud or anxious and very curiously, have a compulsion to leave everything in the apartment exactly in the condition it was when my children leave to go back ‘home’ after they’ve spent the weekend with me.

Today is a dreadful hangover of emotions. I’m painfully giddy when I pick them up but lifeless flotsam the moment their car has turned the corner moving away from me.

The three of us had fun this past weekend. The highlights for me were the menu items I chose and made: Cajun turkey/chicken burgers with spiced fries, scrambled egg muffins, chicken curry and I even bought an electric mixer so I could produce a red velvet cake. They loved it all and I loved all the time I had to spend in the kitchen chopping and mixing and baking and cooking for them.

My oldest didn’t come over.

I remember how hard I cried when he was born – the relief that he was healthy. That morning my heart, that now pumped for him, gave me my first out-of-body experience. I recall how he ran to me and held up his hands with tearful eyes when he was hurt and it took my breath away. The only message that I have retained on my cell phone is from him wishing me a Merry Christmas in his still little boy voice from 2007 – the first Christmas I was forced to spend without my children.

He wanted to spend the time with his friends instead.

Because of this new work schedule I have, I am only able to see them every other weekend now. The same schedule used for someone who couldn’t care less. It’s my only time. My only time face to face. My only too-hard hug until they tell me to stop. My only time of sitting on the couch with him, letting him lie down the length of the couch and pulling his feet on to my lap. My attempt at physical closeness.

My oldest didn’t come over.

I smiled and laughed with such sincerity this past weekend for the sake of my other two, that they never suspected my mental and emotional geography had quaked, ruptured and split.

Just another day after they leave Monday morning made all the more hurtful by the presence of a tribute to falling, or staying, in love.

Another reminder to add to the list of everything I don’t have.

I look at what is surrounding me – the unwashed stack of dishes, the wrinkled and crooked couch, the fluffy and clean pillows that were tossed onto the floor, and note that I have preserved the lovely stage of where happiness was just a day ago in order to gaze upon it and imagine that I’m recapturing and reliving the good feelings for another day or two.

I hear and see  joy thriving outside my window.

Just another Monday.

Where To Now?

Post no-offer. It was almost audibly crushing my not getting the offer yesterday. I was nearly perfect in many ways for the job, yet the one thing that stopped them was that I left my last job before securing myself a new position. She said that it was strange to do that in this economy and they worried that I was a short-term employee, a job-hopper.

If the incident did not happen at my last job, I would still be there and on my way to three years of service! So, effectively, the incident at my last job not only caused me my job at the time, it also cost me my future job.

Heartbreaking for me.

Last night I met my old boss to pick up my belongings from my old position. They were already piled into cardboard boxes. It was such a bright, neon reminder of how I had ended many, many times before – a cardboard box or a plastic bag filled with my belongings when being shuffled from foster home to foster home, moving from one dirty apartment rooming house to another in my early twenties and seeing the five white baggies and a cardboard box with random items in the backseat of my car when I had to move out as my divorce was happening. And now, the image of cardboard boxes while facing the dread of my bleeding cash reserve highlighting the incoming doom of leaving my apartment.

Today, I am in an orientation for a per diem position. Funny, I never thought that I would have made it this far without a full-time position being secured. But now, here I am, sitting for a day, not able to go look for a position, preparing for a once in a while shift. And, the same tomorrow.

My anxiety is ever-increasing as the holidays approach. Am I going to be able to get a position before Christmas? Will everyone be holding off until Christmas and the New Year have passed? I wouldn’t be able to hold on that long.

What about you? Any ideas, strategies or comments? Any thoughts or December assurances?

Post Holiday

The Thanksgiving was great.

Kids actually helped! The oldest, much to my shock, peeled and chopped and sautéed vegetables. The middle and youngest found great fun in peeling potatoes. I even made home-made gravy. The daughter took a picture of each full plate, thanks were offered and everybody was filled. I later even put out two pies – an apple and a butterscotch. After, my middle and I passed time by tossing around the football in the local park. A great day.

But, my mind began to panic when I got the call that the ex was outside and ready to pick up the kids. I whispered into each of their ears how much I loved them and how proud I was of them. Then, at about 6 PM, they drove away.

Coming back into the apartment isn’t joyful for me as I’ve written about before. But I was trying to help myself by being busy and ultimately failed at that. I kept staring at the mess they made knowing that it needed to be tended to. But it was their mess. It reminded me of them. It kept them near me in an illogical way. Looking at the dirty dishes, the unwrapped food, the stains on the tablecloth and the unfinished drinks kept their spirit with me.

I sat at the table, gazed at nothing outside for a while in the total silence, prayed to God and then fell asleep with my head on the table.

I’ll update in a few hours …………

More, after the Break

Thanks

I have my angels until Friday at 5:00 PM.

Although life would be more sustainable with them as inspiration if I were with them 24 hours a day, I will try today to imagine – suspend reality, that this is just what I have. Intercede their constant bickering with a gentle reminder of the joy of being with one another. Accept the nano-syllables or silence of my oldest when I talk to him, ignore the smart-aleck under the breath comments from my middle one and politely ask my daughter to put down her game player and interact with us.

I didn’t have a family growing up.

I shuffled foster home to foster home until I was old enough to be on my own. I sorely see the result of never acquiring the wisdom that comes from guidance, someone to steer me away from bad decisions and the pain of suffering in silent, solitary, mental confinement while others always had someone to help ground them. My experiences have always been as an individual apart – not with a relative, even a distant one, to help steer me one way or another. So, I’ve the proclivity to self-isolate. To live through joy or pain alone.

But my children, the only family I have ever known, are with me today.

They have each other and I hope that they need me. I see it as a twinkle ever so often, but sometimes I have the overpowering sinking feeling that because of divorce, they are quite used to, and adept at, being without me. Someone they must shuffle to from time to time. You can see how my past has affected my present.

But, today, I will endeavor to induce a chuckle, try to get them to watch part of a parade on TV, see if I can entice them to put away the games for a short while, try to play a board game with them, prod them to come outdoors and toss a football, help in preparing the turkey and fixings and make it a goal to capture a smile on film.

On this Thanksgiving, I am grateful for my children and the opportunity to teach them how monumentally important it is to have family. A lesson that nobody was able to teach me.

God help us, everyone.

A Quiet Breath Above The Foam

The way I figure – what else can go wrong?

Nothing.

Thus, my timid resolve, after reading a lot of positive blogs, to move ahead. Inspiration? Surely the many single mom’s who get it done. A good fact? That my speciality is still hiring – have to get out and look, but something will come up. A healthy word or two? Someone that I’ve re-contacted and who, for some glorious reason, came back without hesitation.

It’s out to a rumored opening to fill out an application, then to the former employer to tender my resignation (so I can get my very small severance pay that I badly need), over to unemployment to fill out the paperwork and then to try to gather a little money to buy food for the Thanksgiving feast that I will have with my three angels tomorrow.

More good news will come. It must and I demand it!

I have faith that God is with me.

—————————————

Well, I did apply for that position but no one was able to meet with me. It’s an application among applications.

I tendered my resignation at my now former employer – everything is very amicable actually and they gave me several leads.

I walked over to the unemployment office and everything is in the computer.

I prayed a quiet rosary while driving around.

I have to begin thinking about my list of food for Thanksgiving and prepare for my angels to be dropped off. I can do this, can’t I?

Officially, the new book is now being written.

Reaching Up to Zero

The worst happened – I lost my job.

Though my bosses both told me that they knew that the multiple charges against me were trumped up, to fight back against them – all of them, would be futile. There are just too many of them to isolate one at a time and defend. There are just too many, and the long, drawn out attempt to take on line item upon line item would only weaken my integrity, ability to lead others and bring into question my character. I’m given the choice of either trying to fight or willfully resign.

We hugged, she shed a quiet tear and told me that she knew that it was bullshit, but there it was. We left on good terms. But, the reality of it comes down to money.

If I resign – signing a letter saying so, I get my built up vacation pay. Without it, I will have had no income for two weeks. However, I received bad news about resigning: resigning will not allow me to collect unemployment. Unemployment will give me a sort of safety net if I can’t find a job right away, which, obviously, I desperatly need.

I must get out immediately and find another job. Now. Though the pain and desperation cling to me as a wet and cold sheet – I don’t know … but, I need to get out there today. Thanksgiving week.

I had my children this past weekend and told them. They, as children, took it well and didn’t have any questions after I told them. What I didn’t tell them is that Daddy will only have enough money to cover December’s rent and possibly even January’s rent. This doesn’t take into account phone, cable, electricity, gas … and food.

This is Thanksgiving and I have them this year for Thanksgiving. I need to spend money for turkey and all the fixings. Each time that I’ve spent even two dollars, I receive a sinking feeling that I’m two dollars closer to living on the streets.

And, I know I couldn’t survive that.

I did go to church yesterday and my youngest son wanted to go with me! He watched me well up as I sat there in the pew and recited my rosary. I felt weak, vulnerable and pathetic knowing he saw me. But, seeing all the couples with their young children brough back such torturous memories of us going to church when we were together that I couldn’t hold back the remorse or the begging to God to turn back the clock.

These are not the boisterous thoughts that I thought I would have at my age.

Is there anybody out there?

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