Quoteful Thursday-FDR and Fear


I wondered if I was going to be gutsy enough to write about the recent goings on in my life. But I’ve been too afraid. For so many years I’ve been ruled by fear. Fear of what others would think about me. Fear of being alone. Fear of losing my sanity. Fear of not having enough money. Fear of death. Fear of unemployment. Fear of being a drunk. Fear of being fat. Fear of not being good enough. Fear of being found out. Fear of leaving my husband and making him sad. Fear of upsetting and hurting my children. Fear of just about every fucking thing you could think of.

Hell, I can’t even grocery shop without feeling the icy cold grip of fear wrapping around my heart. No, I’m not standing in the freezer section with hardened nipples. I’m trying to slow my thought process down and not be ADHD girl. To be fearless and say I can do the simple task of shopping without crying. I’ve always had Roger Darling to rely on, but not anymore. After 24 years I’ve decided to separate from him. I care very deeply for the man and we’ve had a good life, but it’s time for me to move on. I’ve tried for years to change my feelings for him. To try and love him again. There is no solace in knowing that I’ve broken his heart and the hearts of my children. I’ve broken apart my family.

I’m not asking for pity or empathy. The only thing I ask for is understanding. I pray for it everyday.

In a week I will move out of our home and into a little one bedroom apartment. I will leave all that I’ve ever known. I have not lived on my own since 1989. People, it is 2013 and I am 45 years old. I’m scared as fuck but I’m ready.

I have so much shit to pack. All I really want to do is go to sleep, wake up and have it be next week. I’m tired of hurting myself and those around me. I don’t know how it works, this moving on without Roger Darling. This not talking to him everyday. He’s been my confidant, lover, and friend. I want us to continue being friends. To not be the normal ones that go our separate ways. We’ve never been much for normal anyway. Hell, we raised our children to be outspoken, rebellious and fearless. We tried to live our lives that way too. I guess I didn’t comprehend the memo though.

I’m hopeful that in time Roger and I will be able to meet for a cup of coffee and conversation.  I know we’ll talk mostly about our children and what they’re up to. Meggie, the teacher. Adam, the lawyer. Chris, the lumberjack. Claire, the scientist. But I hope we touch on the subject of our past life and how good it was for the most part. I’ll want him to know that although we are no longer together, I’ve never regretted being married to him.

It was my destiny to be Roger’s wife and Meggie and Adam Boy’s mother. Unfortunately, I have to change the end of the story and go it alone.

I can’t make you love me, if you don’t….

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing. To keep our faces toward change and behave like free spirits in the presence of fate is strength undefeatable.-Helen Keller

In that world, you’ll be able to rise in the morning with the spirit you had known in your childhood: that spirit of eagerness, adventure and certainty which comes from dealing with a rational universe.-Ayn Rand

You can tell me all you want that you love me.  If you don’t like me, well, that just kills me. I’m not sure why I have such a need to be liked. To be admired. To be listened to. I think I have a good heart. A good mind. Arms to hold you. Tell you everything will be okay. Tell you that life is what you make it. You can make it good or shitty. It’s your choice.

I’m not a one dimensional person. There are so many parts that I don’t let you see. There are certainly parts of me that you won’t like. Won’t understand. That’s okay. There are parts of me that I don’t understand. That I don’t like. It’s true of people that I love and care for. Parts of them drive me crazy too. Isn’t that what love is about though? Overlooking the bad parts and loving the good parts? Dealing with the baggage?

But what is this need for validation? To put myself out there? To say, Hey look at me. I’m fucking fantastic! I’m sparkly girl and I am the SHIT! Can’t I just sit back and take everything in? Just be? It’s all I’ve really wanted to do. Just be. Be happy in my solitude. My silence.

Unfortunately I’ve never had a silent mind. Or mouth. They both have always raced. Been on overdrive. My brain comes up with the weirdest shit. That I then must speak or write about. My mind and my words have offended people in my life. Which was never my intent. My plan was to entertain. To make you think. To make you aware. To make you laugh your ass off. I like to get the reactions that I get. It doesn’t mean that I have a mental problem. That I’m acting out. It just means, well, nothing. Really. it’s just how I’m made.

I am not ashamed. I am more than the sum of the words that I type on a blog. I am more than the sum of my parts. My blondeness. My rudeness. My ability to say the word fuck and get away with it. I am so much more than a four letter word.

I’m me. I’m Nae. I’m Sparkly Girl. I’m a Domestic Goddess. I’m a wife. I’m a crazy Momma. I’m a great friend.  I give advice to the lovelorn Renaissance Boy who texts me out of the blue about the love of his life.  How he got my number, I’ll never know. I’m a daughter. A sister. An Aunt. A lover.

If you love me, great. If you like me, that’s even better. Hang out with me. I’m sure we’re bound to have some incredible adventures together. I mean isn’t that what life is all about anyway? Living like it’ll end?

Are we our labels? And I don’t mean designer ones, honey….

I’m a wife, a mother, a worker, a daughter, an aunt, a blonde ditz, and super funny. But I’m so much more than that. I’m a middle aged woman, but I act like a 12 year old boy. I’m a flirt but I’m so insecure with how people look at me. I’m happy, elated, smiley, but ultimately sad, wounded, and frightened. I seem confident, but it’s for show. I’m really insecure and in search of approval. I’ve always needed it. I’m drifting but I’m anchored. I’m resourceful, but get so overwhelmed that I can’t finish one damn thing. I’m a hot mess, but I’m in control. I say I don’t need help, but I really do. I can’t slow down, but I want to….

I love but not well enough. I love but not smartly. I love but I’m selfish. I forgive others but never myself. I pretend I don’t feel shame but I do, everyday. I’m funny, but I’m not. I’m no angel and would never claim to be. Don’t want to be. Just want to be. Me. I am simple in my complexity, and I only let you see what I want you to see…..

We women, we’re complex creatures. But we ultimately just want love. To feel it and to give it.