Category Archives: Love

Wistful ladies and life after freedom of speech

I’ve been on a sabbatical of sorts from my site – for various reasons.  One of the least interesting being, my usual writing routine was disrupted due to no WIFI at the laundromat.

Some other reasons include:  Lack of interest, health issues, life changes, procrastinating purchasing batteries for my wireless keyboard …

Some writer I am.

Poe didn’t just lay around staring at his quill and just thinking about penning more cousin pining perversion or tooth obsession.  He got on with it.

Then again, he did have a metaphorical raven egging him on.

If I’m going to be truly honest though – (ironic considering what I’m trying to say) I can no longer not edit myself here.

Recent events I want to share with you involve others and I don’t have the license or lack of conscience to tell their story.

Even if I was cryptic they would know who they were – and I don’t want to hurt anybody.

I seriously considered taking Debauchery Soup down completely.

I’d rather not write at all than not write honestly.

But, there have been some past pieces that I’m quite proud of over the years.  In addition, pieces I know have helped others (I do read the private emails and comments I receive from the side bar) so, Soup remains.

I’ll tell you some good news though.

I conquered agoraphobia!

My anxiety has decreased significantly.

I’ve been not only leaving the house – but, ‘peopling’.

I’ve acquired a social life.  Yes, me.  OK, so it’s still heart pounding to begin with – but I find myself settling in no time.

I honestly can’t remember the last time the house was cleaned from top to bottom, I haven’t been cooking.  I’m enjoying life home alone because I’ve finally accepted that things don’t constantly NEED to be done – I can take time for myself even if there is a dish in the sink or dog hair on the carpet.

Which does now remind me of a story I can share.

Comfy?  Ready?  Here we go:

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I was in a clothing store early in the week perusing the racks of dresses when a petite older lady approached me.

“Did you ever find something that fit so perfectly and was so lovely that you just HAD to have it?”

(These encounters happen often for me – strangers coming up to me and chatting)

I saw the top she was holding up.  It was teal, flowing, layered and sparkly.

“I have.  That’s beautiful!”

“Oh,” she said, “It is – but, I don’t have anywhere to wear it.”

“Why not wear it at home and have a glass of wine?”

“I don’t drink.”  She answered.

“Ok, well, the holidays will be here before you know it!”

“Then it will be too cool to wear this.”

At this point, I’m invested in this woman getting the top for herself.  But she continued with,

“Besides, it’s a younger girl’s style.  I’m 80.”

“More the reason to get it then!  No time like the present!”

“I think it’s too dressy for church too …”

I’m torn at this point between smiling and exiting the conversation while internally yelling ‘don’t get the fucking top then!’  Or doing everything in my power to make sure she left the store with it – whether that meant I purchased it for her or took her hostage to the cashier and forced her to treat herself.

“Certainly they have functions though?”

“No, not my church.”

I was striking out – and long past looking for anything for myself.  I wanted this little lady to have something that she had loved on her – something that had made her feel beautiful and wistful.

She suddenly remembered she had a similar, less splashy top in her other gnarled hand.

“OH!  Well – I should probably try THIS one on.”

I smiled and we parted.

I left hoping that other top fit just as well – but also sad that she didn’t get the one she obviously adored.

She was being practical I know.  But sometimes we have to treat ourselves to something fanciful.

And that’s how I’m living life lately.

Doing things that make me happy and not questioning a thing.

My life right now IS that lady’s sparkly layered top.

Dancing out of the cage

I spent this weekend relaxing, for the most part – and at one point, dancing! By myself in the living room.

Just because I could I suppose, but also because the weather is mild and there was (and still is) a mellow breeze in the air.

This is the calm before the ‘heat storm’.

Calm climate brevity.

It won’t last long.  Soon I’ll be plugging the fans back in and paying extortion type rates for electricity to run the A/C

Also now regretting ‘the bangs’.  Shortly they’ll be wet and plastered to my head.

Began reading again.

The WIFI in the laundromat has been touchy.  Today wasn’t working at all and in anticipation of this, I packed a book.

The thing is – I stopped doing things I used to love a while ago.

When was the last time I wrote in my diary?  Last time I painted?  Last time I grabbed my camera and left the house in search of something wonderful?

Sad.

My life used to revolve around my kid and now … I’m stuck with myself.

When people say (and, I must be odd enough for them to actually say this) “I wonder what it’s like in your head”.  I respond with “Well, don’t go in there unattended”.

And now here I spend all my home time doing just that.

I feel like a bird in an open cage – choosing to stay inside.

The actual bird cage in my room … Door open and cobwebs

There are amazing days.   Revelations and epiphanies.  Also darkness and fear.

It’s like a ginormous abacus is before me and I’m pushing the beads – weighing pro’s and con’s – trying to calculate my future (as if I have a say in that ultimately).

I’m no spring chicken anymore.  People I love have passed.  People I love are sick.

I have health issues myself – a few I haven’t shared with anybody and I’m afraid to know more about.  Ignorance is bliss no?

My patience wears thin at those around me with no gratitude.  No sense of urgency to enjoy their abilities or what they have.  Or, to push further to have more connection to what is really important!

My go to example is the bank.

When there’s a line and I hear someone whining about standing in it all I can think is:

There are people who would give anything to stand in this line!  Seriously.

The ill and the housebound.

Just to have the ability to stand unaided – without pain.  Even just to BE at a bank, which, clearly means you’re there for a financial transaction.

Those with nothing wouldn’t mind that particular inconvenience.

Sadly, I haven’t been living up to my potential either.  So, rather than be a hypocrite, I’m owning that and sharing it with you.

I’ve let my very humble home go – when it comes to deep cleaning.

I’ve  lost joy in things I used to love.

But this peri-Summer breeze is a gentle awakening.

I want myself back!

And I want MORE for me.

Not more ‘stuff’ – in fact, I need to purge my life of a great deal of material things.

I want … Hope.

I want to feel like I contributed at the end of a day.

I want the people I love to FEEL it without any doubt.

I want to get pulled back into books and to be a better writer.

I haven’t been proud of anything I’ve written in a very long time – and I used to be good.

Admitting that alone is huge!

And, I want to dance in my living room.

LIVE in my ‘living’ room and not just beach myself on my Chaise Lounge with a remote control in my hand.

Time to get my finger off the pause button and press play.

Long Distance Valentine.

When you find someone who loves your broken bits as much as they love the best you … hold on to them.

I may be spending Valentine’s Day alone, but I’m not truly alone.

I received an amazing box from my Valentine.

Ugg boots to replace the ones I mentioned in a conversation a while ago “Ug” (No pun intended) “I have holes in my Uggs!”

Fake flowers (“You wanted flowers.”)

2 cards, yes 2.

A book of 50 ways I’m ‘super’ (hand written answers, and yeah, he had all 50)

Green Bay cards.

Special Star Wars stickers peppered everything inside.  He knows me, he gets me.

I have someone very special that makes everyday amazing.

With, ok, inappropriate jokes and videos {no, not THOSE kind} he has an off kilter sense of humor I adore, because I know who he truly is.

The guy who stays friends with those he’s loved.  (And yeah, ok, sometimes that’s hard for me.)

The guy who actively avoids interaction, but will go shopping for a sick friend.

A guy who has such a routine, but let me in.  And now.  I’ve become a part of it.

image image

And THAT makes me VERY happy.

I think if we’re both being honest, it’s comfortable right now to be apart because we both have such stubbornness and independence.

It’s lovely to have someone to talk with and can count on that chat.

Life is in session and the stars have not aligned for us to be in closer proximity yet.

Happy Valentine’s Day to all of you – just know there is someone out there that loves you – even if they’re not with you. X

An honest conversation.

You would think today I would have an opinion of a certain party and an inauguration.

I do, of course, but, it’s not foremost in my mind.

My mind is endlessly thinking of a woman I love.

The woman I connected with and understand.

The woman fighting stage 4 cancer.

Thing is … As much as I don’t edit myself with people, I don’t with her either.

When she was well, she never co-signed my bullshit.  And I SO appreciated that!

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Got to talk to her tonight.

I think she finds it refreshing.  No platitudes. Just “So, what the heck?  What do they say?”  No “I’m praying for you.”

But I am.

To the God I don’t believe in.

I do like to keep it real and then SHE gets to keep it real with ME!

I get the full Monty, no editing.

And I get to ask again the questions other people avoid.

I love her too much not to know.

I love her too much not to be myself, and walk on eggshells.  ‘Healthy her’ would HATE that!

Don’t get me wrong, I have bawled my eyeballs right out … Put them back in and ‘Amanda’d’ up!

Because, while I can be honest, and handle her honesty, I still have a very sick friend and it tears me up inside.

Next time I’m in line at the bank and people are bitching, I’ll say, not my usual, but “You realize, I have a friend that can’t even STAND UP and would give ANYTHING to be waiting in this fucking line!”

Don’t doubt it.

I’ll do it!

 

And then he was gone …

 

Me: you’re leaving? But wait …
*takes picture*
Me: I love you so much
Nic: May Neptune watch over your soul
Me: what?
Nic: May Neptune watch over your soul
Me: (internally) Wtf?
Me: (out loud) ok (followed by massive sobs and ugly crying noises)
Nic: bye for now

It all happened too quickly. Can I get a do over? Please.

(My status on Friday, the 6th of January.)

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I knew it was going to hurt.  I had no clue how much.

Considering the state of me the day before,  work told me to please take the day if needed.  I knew as I arrived home Thursday that it would be needed.

To pull closer to your home, only to see your child’s car surrounded by cases and ‘I’m going away’ items well, let’s just say I was sobbing by the time I had put the car into neutral and pulled my emergency brake.

This was it.

The last night.

I walked, wet cheeked, into a home I had shared with him since High School.

Suitcases and vacuum sealed bags lay about the living room and kitchen.  His bedroom littered with debris from a lifetime together.

This was really happening.

I stood, purse in hand – unable to stop the tears.

 

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birds-leave

The following morning was a blur.

After watching him drive off – I entered the house (no longer feeling like a home) and broke.

Into a thousand pieces.

I cried myself to sleep.

I woke.

I cried some more.

I finally found the strength to enter ‘his room’.

And wished I hadn’t.

I grabbed a pillow abandoned on his unmade bed.  Inhaled deeply and returned to bed with it.  I clutched it so tightly.

And slept again.

In between the crying and the sleeping was the worrying – he was after all, embarking on a 27 hour trip across country.

Physically navigating terrain he’d never navigated before.

Just as I was emotionally.

 

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nest

It’s been 5 days since he left.

My dog, Butters has been out of sorts.

I’ve been trying to be ‘chipper’ at work.  Albeit, quite unsuccessfully on Monday.  I had made it through the entire day – catching up, slammed.

I was crunching year-end numbers just as I was informed the copy machine was acting up.

“I can only focus on one thing … I’ll call the copy people in a minute.”

A boss responded, “No, finish what you’re doing, don’t worry.”

And, out of my mouth?

“But if I don’t call now, Nic won’t come!!”

Our copy guy’s name is Christian.

Freudian slip led to tears.

They continued to fall as I stayed a little late and got everything done while everyone trod about me on eggshells.

 

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Another jarring moment was yesterday.  Nic had told me he would send photographs of where he was (having, obviously, safely arrived at his destination.)

I followed up and his response was:

“I haven’t been home yet. Lol I’ve. Been out all day”

Ouch.

Wasn’t ready for that sentence.

Home.

His home.

Not ‘our’ home.

And I’m going to have to get used to that.

I’m told repeatedly by people with the best intentions that his flight from the nest is a testament to my successful raising of him.

But I’m still trying to accept that.  And, it’s hard.  And it hurts.

However, I’m also very proud of him for taking such a ginormous step and embarking on a new chapter of his life.

For following his heart (literally, he left to be with his girlfriend of over three years.)

For bravely starting from scratch in a place he’s only visited a couple of times, and accepting the challenge to ‘adult’.

I’ll always be here for him.

I’ll always miss him.

And perhaps most importantly, always love him enough to let go.

 

nic-leaves