Echoes.

I believe my brain has become incapable of making plans and sticking to them.
Things that I want to do often get overruled by the tiredness in my body or in my bones.
Because they’re too different things you know.

My social life used to be varied and colorful.
Full of different people and places and events and situations.
But the Mom factor has kicked in and I’m afraid that lately I find myself at work, in the gym, consoling my 12 year old, or sitting on the couch knitting or reading.

There isn’t anything wrong with that – other than the fact that you don’t simply sit and read. You sit and read and eat Oreos.
It’s a law. Google it.

So, this lifestyle has led to a great many complications – I’ve disconnected with people I love, people that make me laugh, and a life that provided a lot more energy than I seem to have at my disposal lately.

I got my hair cut yesterday – always a fun event for me, since it’s a luxury I rarely allow myself, but I’ve never been able to carry on conversations with hair dressers and am not sure that it will ever improve.
But with this new hermit ability of mine, my lack of talking earlier has now become a good imitation of a deaf mute.

How rude have I become?
How out of touch?
Even here, this place that is so totally my own, I have aspirations and plans for what I’d like to do – and absolutely no knowledge.

How does one sit on their butt and live solely for the life of their family?
What happened to me saying I would always keep a part for me? To keep myself from becoming one of those women with no friends who lives entirely vicariously through their children?

I have two subjects of late.
Abbey/custody battle (which to me run one and the same) and the wedding.

And what SANE person wants to hear about either?
The people that love me can pick up the phone, but you – the absolute public – stranger danger – don’t give a rat’s ass.
And I don’t care about your wedding either.

Weddings are stupid.
Marriages are something else.
Why do the two ever have to meet?

So the point is that I feel as though I have no point.
No reason.
An ability to answer the phone at work and to knit socks and such in the off time is hardly a lifetime pursuit and the one avenue I can even see myself heading in at the moment has been derailed by my fiance and his need to plan everything and fit everyone into their own globule.

I know so much of who I am and like so much of what’s inside of me and my character at this point in my life that is seems a shame not to share it with everyone else.

:: cough cough ::

Okay.
I really mean that it seems a shame not to find something that makes me truly happy – that I can count on, that pays more than the bills, but doesn’t rip out my soul.

Telling someone they’ve lost everything they’ve worked for – well, it rips at you.

And so I guess the real quandary at this point would be where I go from here – this job, this story, this point in my life.

And no one makes a ‘find Lish a perfect job’ dartboard.
Which has made this search entirely more difficult than it needed to be.