I keep meaning to write — really, I do… And then I go into a funk because it’s rained for like six days straight and I might lose my ever-loving mind if we don’t get some sunshine and a high pressure system soon.
So here’s what’s going on (as might relate to this blog): not much.
Meaning: my life is busy and full, as usual. I enjoy time with my girlfriends and family, spend a bit of time at sporting or other school events with my children and occasionally do some work around the house. Or pay someone to.
This last weekend, I clicked through a link in my Facebook feed and found myself answering some questions and ultimately realized I was in the process of completing a profile on a dating site. Momentary freakout… because as excited as I can get for the vision of my partnered / mated life, as good as that feels to imagine / remember how amazing love can be, I still can’t seem to get myself excited about the prospect of online dating. It just feels like so much work! Still I hit “submit.” And I was fine. The world didn’t come crashing to a halt… nor did the heavens open and angels sing.
The next day, I happened to be in a place where there was a psychic. Okay, I drove to a place because I heard good things about a certain psychic. So I sat down for a few minutes and found myself becoming quite emotional as I asked about this “other half” I’m eager to meet and share my life with. The psychic looked at me with my teary eyes and said, “You need to focus on your own happiness right now.” And this was my exact in-that-moment thought:
It’s not that I’m unhappy; I’m just really sad.
Because, unlike what we’re taught when we’re growing up, happy and sad are not polar opposites; they are not mutually exclusive. I’m living proof that it is entirely possible to be happy and content with life, and to be sad that there’s one part that feels … well, frankly… cursed.
The psychic said of my experience with Lee: “That experience had a purpose — it was to give you a glimpse of how great love can be.”
To which my response is: “F&$# that! I didn’t need a trial run or a dress rehearsal; I was ready for the real thing…and for it to last.” He also assured me that it was very real — for Lee, as well. And that he got scared. Which was like, DUH.
(All of which should probably make me question whether said psychic is really psychic, because it was approximately as informative and “true” as a daily horoscope. But some days I take comfort where I can find it.)
At any rate, the next day I checked my new dating app, read a few messages, looked at the potential matches within my parameters (scant) and, then, I unceremoniously deleted my profile. Because even though I’m pretty happy most of the time, I wouldn’t say I’m feeling vibrant, in love with life or excited at the prospect of meeting new men.