When I was a little girl, I would tape (yes, tape) the top 50 song countdown each year…and, then like many young girls, would dance around the house to my favorites, daydream about what my young brain thought were the meanings behind the love songs and dream about who my prince would be. Fast forward a few (no counting!!) decades and my love of countdowns is still the same…but this time I DVR the CMT top 50 video countdown and sit with a glass of wine to enjoy them. The dancing around the house still happens sometimes (a little less this year as I really don’t want “my guts to fall out”) but, unfortunately, the wondering about the lyrics has been replaced by an understanding of why people write about heartache and sorrow, and, as we all know, I’ve realized there are a few more frogs than princes in the world.
But, last night a song actually struck me as one I need to listen to and pay attention to more often. Of course, it is a country song so I would be more drawn to it than I would be a Nine Inch Nails or Death Cab Cutie song (hey, pretty impressed I even have heard of those bands, aren’t you?!) but it spoke to me, really. I’m not always a huge Reba fan…which is pretty sacrilegious for a country music fun but this one is my new favorite. It was called “Somebody’s Chelsea” and it was about a woman sitting next to an older man on a plane ride who told her about the wife he’d recently lost who he’d loved for 60 years. A woman who really was his world…and how it felt to be the woman sitting next to him on the plane who’d settled more than once but wasn’t going to settle again. She was eventually going to be “Somebody’s Chelsea”. We know that I can’t be someone’s everything (that would give me waaaay too much control) but this song was the musical analogy of someone who’d cover me with a blanket if I fell asleep on the couch. I want, no deserve, to be why someone can’t wait to get home at night, to be who he thinks of periodically during the day and who he talks about when he is on a plane to wherever. And, I really do believe that person is out there…somewhere.
New Year’s Eve can be looked at two ways (and, as it is coming up soon, I’m thinking about this). You can either look at it and reflect on the things that didn’t happen in the past year or look at it as the door to a new tomorrow. I, personally, am going to be excited about the adventures that await me…and maybe this will be the year I do meet that prince charming from dreams long ago…but only if I will be “His Chelsea”.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Just add tissue
What happens when you take the ingredients for a complete emotional meltdown and then add a cute but sappy chick flick to the mix? You get me last night, having a full on crying jag in the parking lot of the movie theaters. Thank goodness it was after the movie though as I am just not one of those pretty crying types…I don’t have the lone tear drop softly falling down my cheek look. You don’t see me crying and think Renee Zellwegger from “Jerry Maguire”. And, fortunately, it was a short lived waterworks session that I think I just needed to release before heading home.
I guess I should start with why I was a walking time bomb of stress and pent up tears. First, after years of putting off the inevitable I am going to the hospital tomorrow to have a partial hysterectomy. Believe me, I know, in a few weeks I am going to be so happy to have this behind me. But, right now, I’m freaking out about the procedure, struggling with the finality of this decision, about my kids if something happens, about my mother coming to stay for gosh knows how long…maybe I should have started with that! I don’t handle people taking care of me well at all…as a matter of fact, I’m kind of mean about it. Add that predisposition to patient witchiness and add in the character who makes me crazier than usual and well, pretty sure I see a recipe for extra pain killers in my future. But, of course, the key to my independence is no narcotics so I can drive so I will be in quite the pickle.
Adding to the hormonal roller coaster was an out of the blue, completely unexpected text from Alex. Yes, Alex, my Mr. Big…the one I hadn’t texted in months and was so proud of myself that I was thinking a pair of Michael Kors boots should be on my Christmas list (c’mon, Santa, I’ve been that good). Anyhow, here I was sitting in a very important meeting, giving a presentation to a group of our board members and being what I would like to assume was incredibly impressive when I saw I had received two text messages. As this was the day of the recent Virginia Tech shooting I had been getting check ins from family and friends so casually glanced at the sender list and literally dropped my phone. There, in bold print was his nick name with a five word message saying he was sorry to hear about the shootings. My shaking hands picked up the phone, hit end and I sat back in my chair feeling like I’d just been punched in the stomach. Really? After months of not responding to my occasional hi text with no contact on birthdays, holidays, Tuesdays…this was when he chose to send a check in. And, of course, like alcoholic who can’t resist the allure of his favorite drink, I texted back. Nothing too personal but a text just the same. And, then, of course, silence…and numerous mental rereads of the message. Why now? Why that? And, why nothing else? Was this because I hadn’t checked in for months? Knowing him and knowing his control/hold over me, I knew part of it was for that exact reason…to make sure I hadn’t completely forgotten him. To make sure I knew I hadn’t really shaken him from my system. And, for that, I was so mad…at him and at me! But, like that same alcoholic who fell of the wagon for that brief time, I started over and am now at day 6. I can do this…and Michael Kors boots are in my future.
Now, we get to the finale, a great night with wonderful girlfriends seeing “New Year’s Eve”…a cute movie about love in all shapes and sizes and living life with no regrets…wow…do you see why I went through a box of tissues?! Here I am, 2 ½ years after leaving Alex and I’m still alone. Alone, by choice, really, but alone nonetheless. I realize I just sat through 90 minutes of fictional happiness but I still couldn’t shake the temporary fit of despair regarding my current position…wondering when I’ll be able to find someone to kiss under the mistletoe.
Depression is not a state I like to visit, let alone live in, so I wiped my tears, turned up the music and started to head home. But, first, checked my phone to find a very sweet smile inducing text from Tony Soprano and really, for now, I’m going to think that is all I need.
I guess I should start with why I was a walking time bomb of stress and pent up tears. First, after years of putting off the inevitable I am going to the hospital tomorrow to have a partial hysterectomy. Believe me, I know, in a few weeks I am going to be so happy to have this behind me. But, right now, I’m freaking out about the procedure, struggling with the finality of this decision, about my kids if something happens, about my mother coming to stay for gosh knows how long…maybe I should have started with that! I don’t handle people taking care of me well at all…as a matter of fact, I’m kind of mean about it. Add that predisposition to patient witchiness and add in the character who makes me crazier than usual and well, pretty sure I see a recipe for extra pain killers in my future. But, of course, the key to my independence is no narcotics so I can drive so I will be in quite the pickle.
Adding to the hormonal roller coaster was an out of the blue, completely unexpected text from Alex. Yes, Alex, my Mr. Big…the one I hadn’t texted in months and was so proud of myself that I was thinking a pair of Michael Kors boots should be on my Christmas list (c’mon, Santa, I’ve been that good). Anyhow, here I was sitting in a very important meeting, giving a presentation to a group of our board members and being what I would like to assume was incredibly impressive when I saw I had received two text messages. As this was the day of the recent Virginia Tech shooting I had been getting check ins from family and friends so casually glanced at the sender list and literally dropped my phone. There, in bold print was his nick name with a five word message saying he was sorry to hear about the shootings. My shaking hands picked up the phone, hit end and I sat back in my chair feeling like I’d just been punched in the stomach. Really? After months of not responding to my occasional hi text with no contact on birthdays, holidays, Tuesdays…this was when he chose to send a check in. And, of course, like alcoholic who can’t resist the allure of his favorite drink, I texted back. Nothing too personal but a text just the same. And, then, of course, silence…and numerous mental rereads of the message. Why now? Why that? And, why nothing else? Was this because I hadn’t checked in for months? Knowing him and knowing his control/hold over me, I knew part of it was for that exact reason…to make sure I hadn’t completely forgotten him. To make sure I knew I hadn’t really shaken him from my system. And, for that, I was so mad…at him and at me! But, like that same alcoholic who fell of the wagon for that brief time, I started over and am now at day 6. I can do this…and Michael Kors boots are in my future.
Now, we get to the finale, a great night with wonderful girlfriends seeing “New Year’s Eve”…a cute movie about love in all shapes and sizes and living life with no regrets…wow…do you see why I went through a box of tissues?! Here I am, 2 ½ years after leaving Alex and I’m still alone. Alone, by choice, really, but alone nonetheless. I realize I just sat through 90 minutes of fictional happiness but I still couldn’t shake the temporary fit of despair regarding my current position…wondering when I’ll be able to find someone to kiss under the mistletoe.
Depression is not a state I like to visit, let alone live in, so I wiped my tears, turned up the music and started to head home. But, first, checked my phone to find a very sweet smile inducing text from Tony Soprano and really, for now, I’m going to think that is all I need.
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