Quiet Please!!!

The house is- just that- quiet. Sienna is napping in the kitchen under the table, Morganna is curled up near my pillows on the bed, and Skijit is napping in the basement on top of the pellet stove. There is a quiet hum of the dryer running and all the guinea pigs- exhausted from their morning of cage cleaning turmoil, are all napping in various positions and places in their newly cleaned "rooms". The grand father clock ticks and tocks in the green living room and there is an intermittent chirp from the scanner running in the kitchen... It is quiet.

But still, my mind is too restless to focus on starting or finishing any doodle drawings, too anxious to find my center and do yoga- which will no doubt ease the throbbing of a muscle spasm in my back... My brain is a flurry of nerves and emotions...

From what? The most recent addition- is a troublesome bunch of bullshit that happened at work yesterday. Something I am carrying with me far too heavily, and that I am far to focused on for my own good. Being fixated on the issue isn't going to resolve it any faster. I have to force myself into having patience and letting this problem run it's course and to not bash in the face of the individual responsible for the causing the problem- promising to "fix it" when half the time this person cannot remember what they had for breakfast or their own name.

Now- the deeper, darker bundle of crap that's floating around in my head slapped me awake at 5:30 this morning as I listened to my husband leave for work. On April 25th, we passed the mark. The mark that my ridiculous subconscious created longer before any man came into my life after my ex husband was escorted out of it by a flurry of curse words and tears. April 25th, last Friday- marked the 6 and a half years my first marriage lasted. To be more accurate- 11:25pm in the 25th (original date being November 25th, 2004). That's when my subconscious created that fail safe etching of time in my brain as the door slammed closed on my apartment in Spring Lake, the engine firing and speeding away of my ex-husband's car- leaving me there sobbing pathetically in my sad red polo and khaki pants that I had just gotten home in from my shift at Meijer's. The glass vase that had moments before held the $65 bouquet of flowers I spent half my measly pay check on for my mother-in-law's Thanksgiving Day centerpiece- shattered against the door, leaving a dent and water pooled on the fake wooden floor. When my world stopped- my response being anger, screaming, tears, and curse words like no dignified white woman should even know much less use. After that came the chain smoking, vomiting, and phone calls.

Why this all came back to me this morning, there in bed, wrapped up in blankets with a snoring dog at my side and purring cat by my head- I have no fucking clue. But it did. All this time I have been terrified of what would happen when Hubby and I hit that mark- 6.5 years of marriage. Would I get trigger happy and nervous? Would every little thing set me off looking in the direction of divorce? My guess is no. Since we are happily five days past the bench mark and nothing has set me off. If anything, now that I am letting this all out (in my blog of all places) I am feeling lonely. As Hubby puts it I have a horrible case of "The I Miss You's".

I needed to get this dark little cluster of crap out of my head so I can do yoga tonight... Figure that out. It's like typing this all out, is a deep breath of fresh air to settle my brain long enough to focus. I cleaned the house, cleaned the pig beds, now it's time to clean out the emotion filled craptastic cobwebs in my brain, right? Ugh- I am such a damn girl. I really am. As much as I try not to be...

So I guess to end this little case of keyboard diarreha... I will end it in a dedication of sorts. To my ex husband... Thank you for trying your best and failing at ruining my life. Thank you for cheating on me. And thank you for the divorce. For if you hadn't done the above list of things- I would no doubt still be your dutiful, miserable wife- suffering through verbal beatings from your parents and disgusting perverse looks from your half brother.

And to Hubby- thank you for being my husband. or supporting me though every creative mishap and adventure, for having a glass of wine poured for me after a rough shift at work. For letting me rant and scream when I need to. For being my shoulder to sob into. And for holding my hand and getting me through the rough patches life has thrown at me and at us... Thank you for loving me. For not clipping my wings (like the last one did) and for letting me be me. I love you more than any word in any dictionary could define... Elephant shoes and blue tutus, Honey.


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