Tag Archives: new life

Feeling Replaceable

The biggest problem with loss is the feeling of being replaceable. Sure, it is nice to be the dumper or the two-week-noticer, but when you are not, it doesn’t feel so good. I got a taste of that when I was unexpectadely reminded that even though I am the mother, there is always room for one more.

It is something you think about when you have an ex anything and there are kids involved. You forget there is the potential for your off spring to bond with another adult. You ex has bonded, but you could give two shits about that particular bond (matter of fact you have often wished they got stuck together like humping dogs in the street). No. What worries you most is her (or him) glopping themselves onto your kids with fun stuff like shopping and outings and your kids sticking. After all, you are the rule setter, the drill sergeant, the taxi, the bill payer, the yeller, the spanker, the bad guy and on the tired days the ‘i don’t care’ guy. You don’t get the luxury of every other weekend fun in the sun spoil time with your children. Your spoil time and your mom time is intermingled together and it can be hard to tell the difference. To them…you are just mom…and to you…well…maybe you are not entirely replaceable but you certainly aren’t alone and it hurts.

It hurts somewhere way deep down, in a place no one can quite touch, when you think about being replaced. When your boss lays you off to replace you with someone younger and cheaper–it hurts. When your significant other breaks it off to replace you with whomever–it hurts. When your kids replace you with a girl/boyfriend, or just activities and friends in general–it hurts. But I suppose it doesn’t have to.

Looking at it behind mature lenses, we are truly irreplaceable. Someone can fill our seat momentarily, sure, but we are marvelously, wonderfully made uniquely enough so that no one person can step comfortably in our footsteps. There is only one you. There is only one me. Of course…I prefer to seethe and throw a tantrum about the potential of the Replacement, but that’s only because that feels better than being all yogi-om and mature. Realistically (here’s the mature crap again), I should know my worth and I should know my place within this world and in the hearts of those who truly love me. Why…I am smwart. I am kand. I am impowtant. Can’t take that away, no matter how much glitter and gold is thrown in the air.

~SM

Sommertime Vacation

Every year, usually about 2-3 weeks prior to my birthday, the Universe plops a big gigantic A-Ha on me and I am enlightened. Every. Single. Year. I have yet to get my A-Ha (mean face). Or, perhaps I have.

A couple of mornings ago, I was flipping through Facebook and felt completely over it. Sure, it is nice to see people’s updates and pictures and it is as equally as nice to share my own random thoughts and photos, but in all actuality….who gives a shit? I mean, realistically, how many people care I had Mommy’s mac & cheese or if you found a t-shirt 50% off? Who cares if you write a dissertation on your wife and how great she is or who really wants to see you and your phantom boyfriend holding hands at the movies. Quite honestly….do you care? I suppose the same could be said for BSM. I mean, who cares if I am struggling with running 3 miles or having a parent breakdown? Somehow, though, this seems different…it seems…helpful.

Anywho, I have the overwhelming need for balance. I feel the need to cut off everything that is a distraction and get back to the basics. And by basics I mean pen, pencil, notebook, board games, no clutter, GNO’s with just a great movie and the couch, books with actual bookmarks, the Bible and Beethoven. Oh…and Being Sadie May (of course).

It should be fun and exciting to actually take a summer break from all of the junk I allowed to slip in. Maybe I will actually be able to complete some things I have been desperately trying to get done. Maybe I can focus long enough to finish my novels. Or perhaps I can actually lose weight. I could possibly get back to centered. Maybe…just maybe…I can slide my way back to beautiful Me (smile). Sommertime Vacation just might be my best A-Ha yet. What fun this is going to be!

~SM

I Am Suppose To Be…

That woman. You know, that woman? The one who breezes into Starbucks with her yoga/running gear on, fresh from dropping the kids at school, looking to get her day started with some physical activity. Perhaps she will end up driving back to her snazzy Better Homes & Gardens pad to slip into a shower built for two with a shower head that sprays water to mimic rainforest  showers. She will throw on a designer pair of slacks or jeans or a dress to officially start her day. She is probably the CEO of her own body care company or a consultant of some kind or a best selling author–able to move in and out of home life and work life seamlessly. I am suppose to be that woman.

No, no one told me I was suppose to be anything like her…it’s just….well….I can feel her lurking around in there. I can feel her tugging at the edges of my thoughts and (on a good day) I can feel her literally taking the steps for me to move from the minivan (which she would not be driving) to the neighborhood Wayfield (she would shop at Whole Foods). But then…her one step is countered by 3 steps back (boooooo hissss booooo). It kinda makes you just want to throw your hands up (not party style…more like in exasperation).

The other day, while at brunch with a friend, as we walked from car to restaurant we both felt it. We both felt the pull to be her. She, this woman I speak of, has the freedom to do what she loves, take care of her family and enjoy little slices of life. She has a positive bank account balance, no real worries or cares, and a plan. She travels and does community work. She breezes through Target buying necessities, but the name brand kind. She doesn’t have to choose between paying her power bill or putting gas in the car. Matter of fact, she can actually fill up her tank.

I need to be that woman. She is in there. I just need to find that thing to squeeze her out…like a big fat zit.

~SM

26 Point 2: Chicago Bound

It has taken me a minute to actually write this down. It has actually taken a moment for it to sink in (which it still hasn’t just yet). On October 11, 2015 I will be running (or crawling…whatever) 26.2 miles through Chicago (or as The Boy likes to say Chiraq). I get butterflies just thinking about it.

I applied for the Chicago Marathon lottery on a whim. Who ever really gets picked for that anyway? Well, obviously people do or else there wouldn’t be a race, but you know what I mean: I would never get picked for that anyway. But…I did.

Because I got picked (Brooklyn did too btw), I certainly cannot turn it down. Why would anyone do that? It is the Chicago Marathon after all. From what I heard it is a great first marathon, it is a beautiful run and it’s Chicago. I have never been there. I get to experience something new.

So, I paid for the registration, bought a plane ticket, booked a hotel and started marathon training via Nike+ on Tuesday. Will I make it? I dunno. I’m damn sure gonna try though. Why not? Besides, I also have the Rock n’ Roll Savannah Marathon in November and the Peachtree in July so I have to start seriously training anyway. Might as well throw another race on the barbee.

Hi, I am Sadie, and I am running the 2015 Chicago Marathon. Yes…on purpose. Yes that is 26.2 miles. Yes…I think I am a little crazy 😛

~SM

Happy Anniversary Sadie May!

Whelp…we made it. We made it through The Split, The Boy’s and The Girl’s antics. We made it through the confusion of Life and the possibility of New Love. We moved out of our old home and tipped our hats to good times. We had discussions about sweaty armpits and naked vaginas. We grew a little stronger as time passed. We learned that thinking too much is definitely not a good thing. It has been a fun, full ride. We made it.

A lot can happen in a year. It is safe to say not only did I manage to pack away a marriage, but I also opened myself up to love again. I managed to grow up a little and be okay with who I grew into. A lot can happen in 365 days.

Kay, a good running buddy of mine, suggested (well…pushed is more like it) I write in this arena. I am so glad she did. She said it would do me some good to get it all out. I can’t say she was wrong. I am pretty sure you don’t always want to hear about what goes on in my life. There are real life tragedies happening out there everyday. Reading about random things like what to wear on a first date or wearing The Boy’s deodorant is not exactly life changing. But just knowing that you stuck around to take a peek anyway means the world.

So, cheers to us because we made it! Here’s to another 365. Who knows what will happen next 😉

Yours Truly,

Sadie May

Goin’ To The Chapel And We’re…

No. Not me. I am not getting married, but a friend of mine (Big Show) is and I voluntarily immersed myself in the sea of wedding stuff. It has been a conversation between Big Show and I for the past month and it has me thinking….is marriage all that bad?

Truth be told, my parents have been together for about 40 years and they are both relatively young (in an old person young kinda way), so they might have another 40 years to go. That’s 80 years with the same person….day in….day out. Their mud butts, their farts, their snores, their laughs, their illnesses, their boogers….80 years. The thought of that makes me sweat and break out into hives.

But the flip side is (and yes, I am officially acknowledging the actual flip side to marriage–ugh) love. My parents love one another. The two recent couples I witnessed jumping the broom clearly love one another. Marriage is complicated, no doubt about that, but if the bond is love….isn’t that enough?

Sifting through all of this wedding crap is fun in a girly kinda way, but in the end when everything is stripped away and it is just the bride and her groom that is where the fun begins. Thinking of it that way doesn’t make it so scary. Could I actually consider marriage again? Mmmmmmm……idunno. That 80 year thing kinda has me spooked. For now, though, I will leave the fluffy dresses and flowers to Big Show. I’ll giggle and sift through a bajillion bridal mags all the while pretending not to be breaking out into hives 😛

~SM

 

What IS This, Exactly?

I am not one for a bunch of emotion. I think these past two years have been the most outwardly emotional I have been in quite some time (or maybe ever). I know what those look/feel like. I know what fear looks like; I know what joy feels like; I know what anger says….but as of late I am a walking cesspool of butterflies and smiles. WTF is that???

I caught myself smiling at the ceiling at work one morning–lost in thought. I found myself battling butterflies and squishy insides one afternoon. I called Brooklyn yesterday and literally screamed in her ear for no reason other than just to get whatever this crap is out. What is happening to me?

I left my car keys hanging in the car door. I left my office keys hanging in my desk drawer. I can barely string together a sentence or comprehend what people are saying because my brain is like scrambled eggs (gosh that sounds good right now…I’m starving…see what I mean…lost focus). My heart skips beats and I swear I blush about 50 times a day. I am a walking, barely talking skin bag full of squishiness and fog.

Even now I sit with butterflies in my belly, floating from one end to another. Do I have some sort of disease? Is it Shingles? I have had chicken pox, you know. Scarlet Fever? The Flu? It’s not crabs because my gentiles don’t itch. And, no, I am not with child–this uterus is on lock down. Perhaps the Zombie Virus is a real thing and my body is fighting it with a vengeance? Whatever is happening, it feels funky but it feels good. I feel like I am floating beyond Cloud 9.

~SM

The Nutty Professor: Step 3

With The Kids pulling the growing up move on me and with my life starting sorta over from scratch, I took an inventory of where I stood and where I wanted to end up. Clearly there was a gap. I work a part time job that does not quite capture my attention. My bank account sees more negative signs than a false E.P.T. My debt to income ratio is hysterical and I don’t see any of this getting any better without some work on my part. Enter the never-ending BA quest.

The first step in changing anything is to actually want to change it. The second step is to plan to actually change it. Step three is holding your nose and jumping in (with intention that is). I recognized something had to change. I had the opportunity to re-do somethings and rearrange some others. I had a second shot at this and I wanted to do it right.

I pulled the trigger and stepped back into the classroom–virtual anyway. I decided it was not too late for me to move into the educational system (teaching adults…not kids….I shudder at the thought). And, sure, I had attempted to go back to school before, but this time it is different. I have no partner to hide behind. No kids to use as an excuse. No more years to waste. There is just me and the goal. That is it.

So for weeks I have been reading, studying, doing homework and making a real effort to be an intentional student. I have kept up with assignments, read during baseball tournaments, spent off days writing papers, and stayed late at work to finish up homework. Presently, I have purposefully made room for obtaining a degree so that while The Kids are off doing things college kids do, I will be settling into The Beach House teaching at a University.

Plans change. We know this. But I am willing to take the steps to make the plans possible. It is exciting and rewarding to know that if I keep pushing there is an obtainable goal at the end of the yellow brick road. Dr. Van Dunk never sounded so good 😛

~SM

PTRR: New Found Independence Like A Motherf***er

I have probably told this story 90 million times, but for those who do not know I was pretty fat (293 lbs to be exact) for my height and I needed to get rid of it. I had tried everything on this side of the sun and figured the only thing that would get me moving in the right direction was to challenge myself with something way outside of Zone Comfort. So…I did. I decided to run.

I got picked for the Peachtree Road Race that year. I trained. I ran. I wobbled for two days. I ran the following year and the year after that. The third year was the most emotional year. During this time The Marriage was in undeniable trouble and my life was coming apart at the seems. That year, I ran the entire 6.2 miles and Cardiac Hill (killer hill at mile 3). I ran to the finish line with Kay who pushed us and when I crossed I broke down. If I could have laid in the road and wept I would have. I was happy because I had beat myself and won, yet I was sad because I knew that at that moment everything had changed. The Spirit never lies.

The next year I didn’t get in and I didn’t really care to run either. I was sad and angry and I did not have the energy, nor the respect, for the process of running the Peachtree. But oh what a difference a year makes. This year I am celebrating my new found independence the only way I know how. Running. Running my race.

When the email came through congratulating me on making it in, I leaped out of bed and squealed with joy. I get to celebrate independent Me from where it all began. I get to do this not to prove someone wrong or to lose myself. I get to do this on my terms, for my reasons and be present for it all. When I cross the finish line this year, I cannot guarantee I won’t break down again, but I can be sure of one thing: nothing will be the same.  I can’t wait to see the amazing things in store.

It is cool how Life works. It is even more astounding how the Universe rises up to meet you where you stand. This phase of my life is about celebration and enjoyment and pacing and exploring. I cannot possibly see tipping my hat to this phase in a more fun, liberating way.

~SM

Going Crutchless

Remember that whole spiel on being focused? Well, so far I have been, especially with my health. Understanding the many facets of health helps a person make good decisions about what they are willing to allow into their space. I decided that poisoning my mind and body was not at all a good decision. When forced with making a hard choice, people often say ‘pick your poison’. Well, it is safe to say I picked several and one of which I have put down.

I am not sure when it happened. I think it was the day I stood in the booze isle of Kroger and saw my fave bottle of wine as addiction rather than a relaxing evening. Alcoholic, no, I don’t believe I can claim that title, but I could very easily see myself fitting the description in a few more years at the seemingly innocent rate I was going.

Some people are born with addictive personalities (imo) and I am one of those some people. Mostly due to emotional issues (which I am happy to announce I have less of these days), but also due to genetics. I clearly saw a path to self-destruction in a way that would not end well for anyone.

Of course, that does not mean I cannot enjoy an occasional drink now and then, but it does mean that I cannot enjoy it frequently. It was a necessary crutch for the time and space I was living, but not now. Said crutch is no longer needed.

I am focused on having a better life, a better body, and a better mind. Those things are essential to happiness. I crave happiness much more than I crave voluntarily poisoning my body. It is sort of strange how things and views change in what seems like an instant. Sort of miraculous to actually witness it happening to you for you. God is certainly good–all of the time.

~SM