Thursday, August 16, 2012

The Return to Me

Hello Everyone, I'm Sam, and I'm Having a Mid-Life Crisis (even though technically I'm not old enough for that, nor do I have a jazzy sports-car to prove it).

For the record, if I DID have a jazzy sports-car it would be a sunset orange 350Z two-seater, because you can't bring kids along when you're driving your crisis away. I'd also be listening to some Five Finger Death Punch and/or intently composing stanzas of HIGHLY meaningful poems in my head.

Alas, lacking the requisite Crisis Mobile, I'm writing in a blog read almost exclusively by family and/or Europeans. Returning to my writing was one thing that I determined I would do when the Children of the Corn started school - it's a promise I intended to keep. What writing you ask? Currently it's my blog, but I plan to also work on some lengthier projects.

(Even my kids know my plan: write a book, get published, best-seller, sell the movie rights, go on Ellen. Repeat with the next book.)(This plan lacks certain major components. Like a plot. Why is it that even loose plots with HORRIFIC prose can fulfill my Brilliant Plan? Sadness.)

Since my therapist refuses to move into my basement and become my Basement Life Coach, I turned to a lady who boils stuff down to its essence. A woman with no tolerance for extraneous bullshit. My partner in crime, as it were: T-Jo.

She's gone through this whole thing, about four times. So she knows from whence she speaks.

She said, "When *Name of Her Youngest Son* started school, I thought I was going to die. My baby was in school. Forever, it had been all about either *Her ex-husband* or about the kids. Now it was about ME. What do I want to do? And now it's about YOU. What do YOU want to do today? You'll figure it out."

Have I mentioned I love her? The next margarita is on me. (Especially because the merest whiff of tequila causes me to dry heave violently.)

So I guess I'll do what I want, whatever that is. I'll write, again. I'll read, again. I'll paint, badly, again. I'll work out and try to heal the bones that splinter and crack if I look at them the wrong way. It is, once again - and only after 8 years and between the hours of 7 and 3 - all about me. And maybe if I don't focus so much on the answer, it will come to me - the way a word you're searching for (reticent) appears in your mind once you've given up and started another task (dinner). Cheers to me! But not with tequila. Can we all agree to mentally imagine toasting with coffee?

Comments, questions, what are you doing with your life?

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