I read this quote this morning, by author Chrstine Arylo:
The reality was that, although I accepted the wake-up call, I was still a broken bird with twisted wings and a sad, sad heart.
And that's exactly how I feel. I'm the female version of Ted Mosby who proclaimed that he believes "a little less, and a little less, and a little less" each day. I very much want to experience the butterflies of love over again, but I don't want to be a desperate woman. And like Ted and Christine I want to believe that my journey will find me with a partner, but this isn't a CBS sitcom nor is it a self-help book written with hindsight.
And I'm still doing embarassing things every day:
- I read books with titles such as Choosing Me Before We: Every Women's Guide to Life and Love. And then get mad when even these seem to cheery and lucky.
- I STILL let favorite pieces of jewelry sit at the bottom of the box because I can't be trusted to look at a reminder on my wrist every day.
- I haven't claimed a dresser that is rightfully mine (let alone a couch) because the money and the hassle isn't worth the afternoon of anguish or annoyance.
- I am a little jealous of those friends and family who have husbands and boyfriends to plan extravagent dinners, gifts and parties for 30th birthday. (Though, more grateful to have wonderful friends who taking me away in October).
- And I still think about him once a day. Not with tears, or an overwhelming sense of sadness, but with the understanding that I lost a person in my life forever. It's a little like death; a sadness that you can't talk about the mundane anymore, a bit of relief that suffering is over and a whole bunch of memories that you don't know what to do with anymore.
So readers, share some embarassing things this morning. What do you hate admitting to yourself? We're all in this together.