My spouse is having an affair with a co-worker 25yrs younger than him. Decades ago we both had our pick of mates. We chose each other and I just don’t know why anymore. I’m too wise and zen now to care about his void he cannot fill. I don’t really care about what’s going on, it’s not about me. But I want to warn young women out there , don’t get involved with men in midlife crisis. You’re hurting yourself and why? Learn to love yourselves so you don’t have to find yourself in this kind of desperate relationshituation. You may have been told some kind of back-story, but what you are doing is wrong. Check-in with yourself, be kind to yourself and others. Two wrongs don’t make a right partnership.
I’m changing my personality and outlook for the better. During these past few years, I let a lot of stupid people take advantage of me. All they ever did was suck the life out of me physically, mentally emotionally and financially. But ever since I woke up and cut them loose, my life has improved. My bank account has increased and I’m a lot more confident than I ever was before. I’ve learned to create healthy boundaries out of self respect. Not going to associate with idiots just for the sake of not being alone. Once you cut stupid people completely out of your life, you do not go running back to them. If it takes a while for me to find decent people to hang out with who value me for who I am, then let it be damned.
They are everywhere right now along sea walls, and patio's and parks. They are so obvious by their clashing clothes, their awkward paired walking. I freaking love it. No FOMO, no envy, just warms my heart seeing the world and spring emerge. Even the cynic in me does not care the percentage that will make it to date 2. Spring has sprung. Nothing lasts, but watching love trickle out of isolation is helping my heart beat.
I recently found out that I am not the eldest of two children, but the middle child of three. My mother had an abortion before I was born. I’m only here because my dad wanted to have children and told my mother he would divorce her if she had another abortion. I feel like this explains my childhood and really my whole life.
In the last couple of months my earliest memory of life has been flooding back to the forefront of my mind. The first thing I remember is my baptism when I was a baby. My parents decided to baptize me in the Greek Orthodox Church. All I remember is the priest clutching my body with his big hands. I’m cold, naked and wet just crying my eyes out, while being watched by all those people sitting in the pews. Some old friends and relatives who passed away in the last couple of years. All I wanted was to go home and be in my warm cozy crib. That’s all I wanted. Nothing more. My mom had told me years later that I had a cold. She didn’t have time to cancel the occasion at the last minute so she decided to make due with the situation. It scars me in some respects, and I’ve often wondered if perhaps talking to a psychotherapist of some sort might help me learn to cope So that I’ll never have to think or cry about my first living nightmare ever again.
These pride parades are too boring for my liking because I’m not gay. There I said it.
Just like it took time to adjust to keeping away from people and staying home for 2.5 years, it is taking time for me to re-enter the world in normal activities again. Forgive me friends, for overdrinking. I spent the last 2 years drinking all my drinks with 50% ice. So drinking everything full strength and not diluted, I was a wreck and ended up puking all night. Next, I tried a group hike, which sounds like a fun fresh-air idea, but after 4.5 hours of talking and being with people I don't know, I was completely and mentally exhausted by the end of it. Not used to being with people for so long anymore. I am sorry that I stopped talking at one point; I literally could not think of anything else to say. Hadn't we talked about everything that needed to be said? Was life really like this before, pre-pandemic? How did I get so socially weakened? Next, I tried the club. The music was *deafening* and made me exhausted. I could not hear any of my friends without them yelling into my face. Did I really pay money to seek out this environment before? The food that I eat in restaurants have weird additives (probably msg) that keep me up until dawn. So used to everything I eat made from scratch. Everything is sensory overload, from the way people look at me up and down, to deciding how much to tip. Last night again I found myself out of words with friends. I am not this odd, truly, the pandemic really altered my previous social brain into something I don't recognize. Reintegrating "back to normal", I'm trying, I'm trying, but not doing it very gracefully. Apologies if I appear slow or catatonic or want to go home early... it is Me, not You.
On rainy days like this I love opening the windows and blinds to watch and listen to the rain. The awed hush it brings to the environment, the muted and potentially electric light in the sky, the smell. It’s the greatest feeling in the world for me. Somehow I become more awake, alert, keen. I breathe deeply and my body relaxes.
Once upon a time they cared about their community, volunteered, engaged with others, gave to the less fortunate. Now they're angry, resentful, isolated, addicted to conservative YouTube podcasts, think the world is against them, only give to extreme conservative causes. Don't know who they are anymore.
Most parents have likely been guilty of this at one time or another. Congratulating ourselves on doing a much better job as parents than our own parents did with us. Patting ourselves on the back as we assume that we did it purely on our own. But as I’ve grown old and have watched my own children raise my several grandchildren, it’s occurred to me that my parents didn’t do such a bad job after all. Without their teaching I wouldn’t have had some of the skills I did to raise my own kids. I learned far more positive things from them than I gave them credit for. Yes, they made mistakes and they weren’t perfect, just as I made mistakes with my own parenting. But obviously if they raised good people then they did something right. So now, instead of blaming my parents for everything that went wrong in my life, I’m thanking them for all of the good things they did and acknowledging that they tried their best when raising me and my siblings. I raised some good people too, in spite of the mistakes I made while I was young and not as wise. So well done to all of us who tried our best!