Holy fucknuggets. The last blog entry I wrote had me down. But it wasnt anywhere near the end as I thought it was. It got worse. I wrote in March that my BF at the time had broken up with me. Which of course killed me, dead to the floor. I guess I allowed myself to suffer and panic for a while, but I picked myself up for a while. I ended up dating a few people, sleeping around, finishing my last semester of school, having my house sold out from under me at auction, going through 2 different divorce hearings and never getting shit accomplished. Watching my daughter graduate high school, and sending her off to college was literally the 2 highlights of last summer for me.
I began my summer the day after my daughter graduated. My sister took my younger children to stay with her over the summer, while my brother came to my house and helped me pack up my entire almost 15 years of marriage into a 10×10 storage unit and what I could pack in my car, and my bed came with me to his house where I crashed for the summer. I began my coveted internship, but had to give it up because it was unpaid, and the commute was a killer. It was on the other side of DFW as opposed to 4 miles away from my ex’s house (as was my prior plan). Luckily I fell into a paying internship 10 miles from my brothers house that allowed me to begin saving money and get my own apartment. Of course, this whole time, no contact from the ex, whom I had filed divorce from in January. I graduated with my Associates degree in August, and 9 days later I think, I was officially divorced. I was free, educated, and moving on up in the world.
Ive been in my apartment for a little over 6 months, and while its small, its mine. Every single stick of furniture, dish in the cabinet, towel in the bathroom, and piece hanging on the wall is MINE. I have a home with my children, and Ive done it all on my own.
More importantly, Im happy. Im even more happy because I met someone who I love deeply, and dearly, and honestly, didnt even know I needed him in my life until I found him. Sure, since I moved here, I dated people, even had a “relationship” with one guy, but never NEEDED to date. I was just bored, lonely, whatever. But then I met him. And I shit you not, from day one of meeting him, it was like I knew he was the one. I didnt need to date anyone else, I dont need to look anymore. I met him in February while I was recovering from a nasty case of strep throat. But the kicker is that he lives in a town close to where I just MOVED from. This is probably where I admit that Im an online dating veteran, and boy I could tell you some stories, but thats neither here nor there. What the ultimate point of this entry is, is that I made it. I survived. I was down UNDER the rocks that make rock bottom. That barrel they always talk about people scraping? I didnt even have one to scrape. My rope was so ended and frayed it wasnt anything more than a whisper of fiber on the breeze. I was down, out, and fucked 18 ways to Sunday.
But now Im back. Im kicking ass, Im taking charge, and letting the world KNOW that Im back and fucking fabulous.