No Thanks Needed

Hi,

Decided to sit at my desktop and write. Here goes.

Came home from work, riled up 'cause today did not go as planned. Or as I had planned it in my head.

New manager moving their stuff into old manager's office and well, I wasn't feeling good about it. New rules, new implements (I like the old implements, they were working just fine thank you)  and my stomach started getting queasy midday. Work life.

Anyway, come home, husband is home, news is on, dinner is leftovers. We start talking about my not so planned happy work day and he gets up and he starts coughing and sneezing, and I'm watching the news and hearing him as he leaves the room and then, there it is.
I see him in the hallway not really moving and just coughing and kind of swaying.

Off goes the news. I'm up and leading him into the bathroom where he thinks he is going to vomit.

Ok, this is where my anxiety normally kicks into high gear, surprisingly though it did not. Nurture-nature mode swooped in and I stroked his back (while his head was over the toilet) no he didn't throw up, and I lead him upstairs and tucked him in bed, made sure he had a glass of flat ginger ale. And this is why I don't throw out ginger ale even though it's over a week old and flat. Comes in handy.

He's all tucked in, calm and cozy, and I tell him "no worries, I'll lock up, just rest". He looks up at me and says "thank you". That startled me. Maybe it was because he said it through his cpap mask; sounding muffled and childlike and earnest. He didn't have to thank me. This is marriage. This is being a caring wife, right? 

Or being a human, right?

I told him you don't have to thank me, but he insisted: "you're a good woman".  I prayed while pretending not to. I kissed his forehead gently and said "you're a good man and I love you". 

As human beings this is what we were created to do. Help each other. Lend a guiding hand when another human is sick and swaying. And not just for the people we love. For every human who needs a hand.

Every single one.

Even the new manager at my job. Time to change my attitude and help them get tucked in. Maybe I'll bring in a big bottle of ginger ale to the office tomorrow. They may need it.


Love,

Maria.       

      

Two Princes

**********ORIGINAL BLOG DATE WAS 2016... I LEFT IN DRAFT FOR AWHILE. AHEM.

Hey you........I haven't blogged in about a year or so, therefore, if anyone is reading this.....well you'll have to forgive me, 'been kinda busy. I am writing something far more difficult than this blog. I mean really hard. 

Two Princes. I love this song. It's catchy and well....what happened to the Spin Doctors anyway???? Two Princes. 

I've had more than two princes in my life. 

Ummmm by the way,  I am in the middle of getting divorced. 

Yup, strike 2, but you ain't out...

It's easier than I thought it would be..second divorce. No kids together, no property settlement, no hard feelings (I think), just hire a lawyer and get the papers, and BAM, in 90 days we're divorced.

I thought each man I married was a prince. Therefore, I probably acted like a princess. Did I? Yup, I think so.

As each marriage ended I think, crap Maria, get a grip. Maria you suck at relationships. Maria, what the hell do want?

I'll tell you what I want. A regular guy who's a real prince. One who can put up with my moods. One who understands my panic attacks, one who isn't afraid to venture into conversation with my sometimes sick, twisted mind. One who likes the fact that I am a complicated, vulnerable, compassionate, demanding, whiny, witty, self-deprecating perfectionist.

Tall order. Few men can take me on. Probably even fewer princes. I get that.

So what can I do? Change who I am? Hell, no. An inauthentic me would be far worse. I'd get bored. Treat my prince like crap. End up leaving yet another prince.

Well, as this divorce comes to it's close, I realize, I'm no princess. I'm screwed up. And that's okay. We all are.

Oh and by the way, first prince has come back into my life. After 16 years of divorce, this prince knows he's got what it takes to deal with this princess. FINALLY MARIA.

Go for it. Love of my life at 19 years old.

This one wants to call me baby. So go ahead now. 

Love, 

Maria.   
   
     

TO BE HONEST

To be honest.

Writing is what I love. 

To be honest, I am not writing honestly most of the time. That's why I didn't write for a year.

Until I am completely honest in my writing, I am not a writer.

You know, next post, I will be honest.

Stop worrying about who is reading this, cause who cares anyway? 

Hmmmmmmmmmmmm. 

Probably have adult ADD. 

To be honest.

Love, 

Maria.

THIS IS 58.

Hey, Judd Apatow, forget about This is 40. 

Think about This is 58.

My husband's best friend has been dead for a month now. Today. One month ago, this man was my husband's best friend, making plans to visit us and now he is dead and his ashes are sitting in an urn somewhere. We're not sure where. We're not sure why.

He wasn't sick. He shouldn't have died. He wasn't addicted to drugs. He wasn't a drunk. He wasn't in a car crash. We're stunned and numb.

This is 58. 

We watch the national news. We are bombarded with commercials warning us about our impending death. Heart disease, diabetes. Foreboding commercials for crash-proof retirement. 

We cannot afford to think about retirement yet. Divorce and remarriage and college debt for our kids screwed that up for us.

This is 58. 

Our backs hurt for no reason. 

Sex isn't everything. It helps, but it ain't everything.


We think our grandson is amazingly beautiful. 
He is the most adorable baby, ever. 

This is 58.

We watch The Dodo on YouTube. Alot.

We are so sick of all the sickos running around our planet.


We like Ray Donovan and The Kominsky Method and Tiger Woods and Bob's Burgers and Netflix and sports and sports and sports.

We did not vote for the current president. 

We miss the 80s. 

We see we what we don't have and we see what we want. We have to hustle to keep up. 

But we don't feel like doing anything. We just want to hit the lottery and pay off all our debt and move and be free.

This is 58. 


Love, 

Maria.

BEEN A LONG LONG TIME

Been about a year since I’ve written anything.

I will catch up soon. Just hate typing on my iPad.

Miss my keyboard.

Love,

Maria.

I edited The Great Divorce and survived

Happy Easter and I edited my The Great Divorce post -- 'cause I read it after several months and it's boring and not exactly how I wanted it to look and read. I wrote the post in about 10 minutes about 9 months ago and re reading it was laborious to say the least.

So if you've read it, maybe re read it, maybe not.

I had a nervous breakdown in 2014. And now I know why they call it a breakdown.

It never breaks down.

You're stuck with that one label.

Even if you're healed -  you had a nervous breakdown.

You're not called a breakdown survivor, like cancer survivors. There's no victory in our healing.

You're a person who had a nervous breakdown and now at least for me, many people who I thought of as friends - want nothing to do with me. Shamed. Shunned.

How sad is that ?

Well it's pretty sad.

Breakdown survivors.

Happy Easter - representing resurrection- the new.

I'm healed now. I'm new. That was 4 years ago.

I'm a breakdown survivor. Are you?



Love,

Maria

And Another Holiday

Another Holiday is here. For an estranged mom like me that triggers a pit in my stomach, one  I can't shake.

But I've got to. My husband and family members will be waiting for me for Easter dinner, side dish in hand. 

I miss my daughters terribly - all of them - and hopefully I'll be seeing one daughter this Holiday and maybe even talk to another .. bestill my heart.. 

But one of my daughters still doesn't want to talk to me right now. 

And I have to respect that wish, and in the past I haven't.. I've sent pictures through email, glad tidings over Christmas, and a letter telling her I won't bother her anymore. And I won't. 

You see, once you're a mom, you're programmed to keep trying, at least I am, determined to make things all better, all warm and cozy, forgive and move forward and keep reiterating how much I love her. Even when she may feel I'm not worth loving. That doesn't matter to moms like me ... we love unconditionally so we think even though she doesn't want to talk to me - I gotta let her know I love her. 

But that's not respect. And my entire estrangement at it's core is love and respect. We all want it, we all need it, because we're human. 

So no reaching out anymore.  Respecting her wishes, praying for her happiness and sending my love to her into the universe and just letting it go. 

And another Holiday is here. Happy Easter wherever you are sweetheart... 

Cook the rice and beans, grab the flowers for my mom and mother in law and let my love vibe show. 

Christ is risen. 

Prayers for today and every day: 

Reconciliation 

Restoration 

Restitution 

Love Always, 

Maria.