Dispatch From A Velveteen Lined Rut

The stories I tell, and they're true mind you, would have any old body singing my praises as a woman who has cracked the code on the good life. And I would chuckle, nod and whole-heartedly agree. Except I don't really live in adverbs. And when I take the time to sit all by my lonesome, it is better described as hole-hearted.

Yes, I earn a semi-competitive salary, doing work that is creative and mostly dictated by me on a schedule that is flexible with a community of family and friends that make sure I can travel.

But any story is only worth the subtext. The secrets lining the vivid panorama are that I am often lonely for adult companionship. No, I don't mean getting laid. I mean a real partner in crime so I don't have to have exclusive rights and responsibilities to having my back. Or covering the costs required to make now and then happen. Being a single parent means you attend lots the family mandatory events but generally are not included in the extra curricular social stuff- the weekend outings, the summer fun. The good news is that my Dare Devil Daughter is a magical human being, so she tends to be included. The not so good news is that the feeling you remember from being excluded when you were 14 years old and couldn't help but internalize as a fatal flaw? It comes out of hiding when your favorite social media timeline reveals that you were not included in the most recent fill-in-the-fun activity.

And now our house is small so we won't really be hosting any get togethers. I get the feeling that the local moms (Dad's won't come within 10 feet unless their S.O. is in tow) find me amusing (I would) but don't consider ours a friendship worth pursuing beyond pick-up and drop-off overlap.

I get it. We are all taken up with having our lives and there aren't many resources for accommodating the skill of bringing on a third wheel. People like even numbers. Truth be told, it simply doesn't feel good. Then it gets overwhelming when I want to dream of a time when I am eligible for such camaraderie, or even the option to do it on my own and it occurs to me that raising a child on my own in the Bay Area working for a non-profit...means that we are just getting by and that sailboat or weekend cabin or mortgage are not likely.

Unless I work my ass off on the MIRACLE. Yes, I am an optimist and I believe. Except I'm exhausted and I'm suffering from short-sightitis and dog-ass-tired more often than not. I'll get over it. I'll get fit. I'll get the pages written. I'll get out there. My unicorn is looking for me just like i'm looking for him. Just not tonight.

Courage, Confidence or Crap

Tonight I am awarding myself with the Mediocre Mom award. It's the prize you give yourself when:

• your kid has been home sick and plugged into an electronic device instead of being given any real loving attention.  
• you've been on the phone most of the day, mostly catching up with friends about the confusion you are suffering under after a magical whirlwind weekend that your to-do list couldn't accommodate. 
• You impatiently sprinkle lavender on the pillow and sent the poor kiddo to sleep with a YouTube meditation
• Barely make it to your laptop, glass of grapes in hand, only to find out the Internet is broken because EVERYBODY is trying to stream the season premiere of SCANDAL.

I try not to down the wine like it's last call and give up on the streaming. The soft frustrated teary sniffles of the kiddo summon me. Off of the elliptical (everybody streams TV with wine and a workout, right?), and I report for duty. She cries it out, I suck it up and before you know it, she is super snoozing.

I've got a Godzillion things I could do and be productive or creative or both. But I don't wanna. Getting shit done is not compelling to me tonight. I'm fucking drained. I'm spread thin and flavorless like ketchup and water passing as soup. Long story short- I have to admit that I am keeping myself busy, engaging in fabulous, rewarding, smart-as-shit activities and adventures to be a good mom, a good steward, a good daughter, a good friend, a good employee, while building a handful of careers and feeding my soul with creative pursuits and magic as often as possible- to avoid the potential for finding myself lonely. The rub is that given the opportunity to connect on an adult level, let alone an an intimate sense - I'm burnt. I'm running on cheap fuel and it's low at that. My energy is being rationed.  

Like most red blooded humans with more social media accounts than fingers,  I consume the prayerful, grateful, motivating media so I know what to do: eat organic, run, surf, pray, ask the universe for whatever you want and get over yourself and get out of the way. Guess what? That shit takes time, more than that it requires focus and attention. I'll get to it, just not today.

Thanks for reading all the way through this excuse to feed two birds with one worm - writing and whining with wine.