17 June 2016

backyard musings


I love watching the sun set while sitting on the back porch. It's always gorgeous. One of the perks of a corner lot-- the view is not completely blocked by neighbors' houses.


Since Dad came and Tommy sprayed the bejeezus out of the yard to get rid of any roachy critters, I've spent most of my evenings lately enjoying a beverage on the back porch.

The dog can hardly contain herself simply because I'm hanging out.


There has been no real opportunity for getting out of the house, and my desire for drunken abandon in public has waned. Going into work early the last few days probably had something to do with it. And my credit card bill.

Plus, as this afternoon so boldly exampled, being distracted at work can kill someone and get you fired. Completely plausible and narrowly avoided. Kind of taking myself a bit more serious when it comes to rolling into work hungover. At any rate, I'm in a better place so I think that danger has passed.

I have spent the last couple of months preparing myself mentally for the worst-case scenario. For a while there I was convinced I would need to sell the house and move. Why give a fuck about something I'm about to leave behind? Embrace the change in scenery, leave this entire shitshow behind. It's ironic, because I keep calling it the worst-case scenario, but it's actually the easiest. Leave, give no fucks. Start over.

With all of this back porch sitting, I got sick of staring at the jungle in the flowerbeds one night. I went on a bit of a clearing tear. Rearranged some things. I plan to fill those empty pots with flowery gloriousness.


I came to some sort of internal agreement with myself at some point this week. I don't know when or how it happened. I let my guard down-- mostly because I'm so fucking exhausted from having it up-- and I decided that if there is a chance that I'm staying, I might as well enjoy the scenery. So flowers. All the fucking flowers. My downfall might as well be flowery, right? [Plus they're in pots so I can take them with me.]

I became incredibly apathetic about a lot of things after I had my little breakdown. Everything I used to stress about got wiped out all at once and I gave no fucks about anything. Like a clean slate was created. Or, you know, a vacuum of depression. Except I didn't really feel depressed. It was more like a struggle to find my strength and come to terms with my reality. Anyway.

So I came to terms with it and I fully prepared myself mentally for that reality. Except it hasn't happened yet. So my brain is like, well, I'm bored and nothing is happening. Let's explore other options.

I'm still not convinced things will be ok, but for some reason right now it feels right to let a lot of shit go and have a little faith. Maybe my mind is telling me I need a bit of a break? Like I said, I've been pretty steadfast in my "shit is beyond repair" attitude, and I've been pretty adamant about preparing for the worst, mentally. What else could I do?

I'm not exactly sure what changed my mind. Maybe I just got tired. Maybe being alone for a while idealizes things. Maybe I noticed a few things that indicated change and effort and as much as I want to write them off as not good enough, I can't.

I'm not saying that it's enough. I'm not saying that things will work out. I'm not saying that I even believe that they will. I'm a realist. And when things go this far south, is there anything worth saving?

I don't know. This is new territory for me.

But goddamn, I still take comfort in the idea of the offchance that I might still have someone to call home. THAT might be my downfall but in the meantime, it's keeping me sane because the other option hasn't come to fruition yet. I'll take it. And I'll probably change my mind tomorrow.

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