Time for Change

JESUS. It's time for change. I am not only speaking for myself, but for all of you as well. The weather is getting warmer now, and Richmond's long, miserable, sunless winter is finally over. No more excuses- let's all make a change. I feel like I'm not alone here, like most of you have something that needs to change. I do.

First, I need to apologize for not giving my loyal fans something to read every night. I have been unmotivated and maybe a little depressed, although I don't like that word. People tend to judge you when identifying your "down time" as depression. I have just been preoccupied, sick (literally) and tired. I finally gave in and went to Patient First, the 7-11 of medical facilities. I need a t-shirt that reads, "I went to Patient First and all I got was this lousy antibiotic." I wanted more from the doc. I wanted Lunesta and Xanax. I wanted morphine. Give me the real shit, doc. I have a high tolerance.

So, I'm waiting it out. Still coughing up a lung. I swear when this goes away, I'll hit the gym hard. Right??

For those of you interested in my love life, Rawboy is moving out. It is a mutual decision, and it didn't come easy. I think we were both in denial about the reasons why this isn't working, and that's ok. That's normal. Who doesn't want to be loved? We help each other, but hurt each other more. So it's for the best. The date of departure is July 1. I will do my best to keep you informed of the tumultuous days ahead, although I'm hoping for sunshine and clear skies. I would like to end this cohabitation on good terms. I feel like a teacher who's attached to her student. It will be hard to see him go, and this house will be quiet and I will be lonely again. I may also starve, considering Rawboy did most- (who am I kidding?) ALL of the cooking. The fridge will be empty and the ear-piercing, sometimes unbearable sound of Opera will no longer fill the kitchen air while Rawboy does the dishes. My washing machine may not break afterall, once he stops squishing in his over-sized comforter. The water bill will go back down to a reasonable amount because he will no longer add 30 minute showers to my daily routine. The absence of the juicer will add 23 more square feet to the counter space, but will probably be replaced with nothing. And who will walk my dog? Poor dog. Mommy likes to sleep in.

Well, my faithful friends, all things must come to an end. But I'd like to think it's a new beginning for me, and I'll take what I've learned and go to the next can't-love-due-to-childhood-hurts relationship. We'll see. In the meantime, I need to give back to my girlfriends who have helped, coached, and cared along the way. They have missed me.

My Patient First meds have kicked in and I must go to sleep now. Until next time....

Congestion

Hello fellow nocturnians. I am only as good as my sleep aids allow me to be. I have been congested for almost 3 weeks now. It won't go away. It's in my chest, now in my nose, clogging my head, my brain, my thoughts. I am exhausted and emotionally drained!! What gives?? So, in dealing with this viral intrusion, I have for the most part confined myself to the house (outside of work, of course) so that I can rest a little and hopefully get rid of this nasty thing. I figured it would ride it's course, but it prefers to stay and destroy my life. I have been coughing and wheezing and blowing my nose, and I just can't take it anymore. The constant cough has hurt my back and neck. I made an appointment for a massage, but fried myself in the tanning bed a few days before. A massage just isn't worth it if you sting all over, right? Hot stone anyone??

Anyway, on top of all the mucus, my period came and PMS set in. Boy, was it bad. Maybe my cold amplified the bitch in me, but it's a good thing I didn't own a gun. I almost went postal at the KROGER because the olive bar wasn't stocked. And I couldn't find beer. I hate Kroger. I hate grocery shopping. I hate getting gas. I hate Oprah.

Congestion. On top of these stresses, there's Rawboy. What can I say? He's here, all the time, and I'm sick and here all the time, and we ended our "thing", and I'm in limbo. I know the man I fell for is still in there somewhere, but I don't see him anymore. I don't see the man I could kiss whenever I wanted, hug whenever I wanted, or touch whenever. I can't look at him the way I used to because I can't go back. Back to the affection I so DESPERATELY need. We just don't work. We won't work. And I think I may have said too much about the things that didn't work. I think my honesty hurt him a little, and the bulk of it's not his fault. I've had many relationships, casual and not, and he's had none. I expected him to know how to do this, how to make this work and be a man, only to manifest into his love experiment that sometimes made me feel like shit. So there. So it's done. And he's still cooking, and still rubbing random chicks, and still on his journey to fullfillment. I'm just a stepping stone (who loves his lips.)

Congestion. As I sat down next to him on the couch to discuss my feelings (I had to do this because we spent the last few days not talking), the pressure in my head began to build until it felt like it was going to fly off. I know this feeling all too well, and it's tears. I just needed to fucking cry. As a mom, with a roommate, you just don't get to sit and have a good damn cry to cleans out the system. There's no time and no place for it. A good cry for every day stresses, for broken relationships and no more beer. It was time for my cry, and she wasn't waiting. So I sat there and talked, and cried, and talked a little more and cried. It wasn't the sobbing that I needed- I wanted to sob like a baby- but I didn't. I held back the flood, shedding just enough to release the pressure. And Rawboy fell asleep somewhere towards the end, so I turned out the light and went to bed, leaving his ass there on the couch. But not before I blogged this story for my faithful friends. Aren't you refreshed now? Feeling more energized??

Not me. I'm getting sleepy... until next time...