i’ve been thinking about my first husband lately.
no, not in that way silly. i’m pleased as punch with my man and our life. it’s just that sometimes i think about the soul that i spent nearly 8 years with and wonder how he’s doing.
this tends to happen around this time of the year because he just celebrated a birthday yesterday. it’s as if another year has gone by in his life and i wonder how it’s all treating him.
it’s not out of the ordinary for exes to not have friendships or even talk at all and i realize that, but he’s someone i do sometimes wish that i could connect with now and again.
breaking up with someone really is one of the hardest things to do. no matter the circumstances (and whoa baby did i play a huge part in our marriage ending), at the end of the day, the person we end up saying goodbye to was once someone we couldn’t wait to get our arms around. funny how radically those things change.
as i sit here and write this i can hear my son and husband playing in the next room. i smile as i hear my son’s laughter and my husband doing things to make that laughter go on for even longer. there’s just something about that laugh that fuels our days. there’s something about that laughter that reminds me that i’m right where i should be in my life.
thinking about my ex doesn’t mean that i want to be with him again. or that i want to leave my husband. or that i’m secretly wishing my life were different somehow because none of that is true.
thinking about my ex means there was this person in my life who was my best friend for a number of years and who i no longer have any contact with anymore.
i did a silly thing last week. i reached out to him on facebook. (oh facebook, you make life a little too complicated sometimes).
i let him know i knew he had a birthday coming up and that i was wondering if the five years that had passed were enough for him to consider rekindling a friendship. i also added how hard it was for me to write to him because i knew the risk of him not responding at all.
and you want to know how he responded?
what i love (and hate) about facebook is that i know he read my message and that it didn’t get lost in the dark cyber world. in fact he read it within minutes of me sending it. but he chose not to respond.
there are probably a number of reasons he didn’t write me back. maybe he was busy. maybe he forgot. maybe he plain just didn’t want to (the most likely of the three).
and i don’t think we ever will be friends again. and i’m learning to be okay with that.
i realized once again how different i am from when he and i were married. and the truth is, he probably is, too. and sometimes old memories really are best left in the past. or at least left to once every april.
so here’s to letting go…again. and to holding on even tighter to what i have in my life at this very moment.
and that’s more than okay because the laughter in the other room is all i’ll ever want and need.
what’s funny is that as soon as i declare a big writing project, i tend to lose my writing juju-ice. it never fails and i’ve seen this phenomenon in myself many times before.
i’m going to be a speech writer! and so i get a job doing that, do well, and freak out in a way that causes me to lose all confidence in myself.
i’m going to write every single day! macbook left cold, journals gotten dusty.
i’m going to be a journalist! and so i get a job at a local newspaper, do well, and freak out in a way that even my doctor says i should leave the job.
i’m going to write the next great american novel! *crickets* that’s NEVER gone well.
the thing is, i love writing, i really do. but i’ve noticed that when i put pressure on myself to do so, i end up buckling, not enjoying the process, and eventually do less writing than before any great proclamation. this really freaks me out because it sort of dashes any dreams of being landing a book deal and then writing on a deadline.
but really, at the end of the day, i don’t really care anymore. i don’t need to be the next great american novelist, journalist, columnist, satirist, or even smart ass-ist. i just need to trust the process and do what i do best — enjoy writing because i enjoy writing.
i don’t need the pressure of wondering if what i’m writing is going to offend who knows who or going to make me look like a royal bitch. i don’t need the pressure of wondering if what i’m writing is going to be unpopular — or worse — that no one is reading it in the first place.
i’m going back to basics here. where i should have gone years ago. i’m going back to that place where the five-year-old version of me sat with her little notebook and pencil and wrote poems and stories because they made her smile.
i mean really, if i’m not smiling, what’s really the point of it all anyway?
i talk a lot about how fear is a liar and how it’s good to stand up to it. well, it’s time for me to put my make believe monopoly money where my mouth is and do it.
every year nanowrimo rolls around and every year i sign up. every year people bang away at their keyboards and every year i just stare at mine.
not this year.
while the actual nanowrimo takes place in november, camp nanowrimo will be taking place next month.
hello, april, it’s nice to meet you, i’m woz.
i’ve already got my cabin mates assigned to me (we’ll be sneaking out at night for late night s’mores roasting fo’ sho’) and have my word count declared (10,000 is the lucky number — if it’s good enough for the maniacs, it’s good enough for me).
so i’m really going to do it. i’ve spent this last year (just over a year now actually — happy blogiversary to me!) writing my little heart out and getting practice at this writing business and now i feel like i’m finally ready to stop flirting with nano and actually give him my phone number and go on an actual date. who knows what this might turn into — a lifetime romance perhaps? one can only hope.
i have a favor to ask — so many of you have been AMAZING at cheering me on through so much of what i’ve been going through over the past 12 months and i was hoping i could ask you to cheer me on through this camping (writing) adventure next month. feel free to post on my facebook wall (friend me!), tweet me up on twitter, or just leave a comment here on this post.
as much as it might seem like it’s easy for me to put words down on paper (or the screen rather) the prospect of this project truly scares the hell out of me and i could use some support. can i count on you? i promise to repay the favor when you need support and i’ll send you love letters from camp, too. i hope you don’t mind a little gooey s’mores on your envelopes.
welcome to the “courageous and kismet” series here on simply woz! i’m excited to feature guest posts from amazing people who know that telling their stories can be healing, courageous, and kismet.
today is brought to you by ever brilliant and amazing amanda krill:
Hi there! My name is Amanda. And I had a debt problem. Whew. It always feels good to say that.
You’ll notice the past tense in that sentence – I HAD a debt problem.
To be more specific, about nine years ago, I was spending money like crazy. Money I didn’t have. I used credit cards. I think I had five of them. One was a joint account with my husband, so I never used that one (in the beginning, anyway). At first, I was able to pay them off every month, but eventually it got waaaaay out of control.
At the seven year mark, I sat down to tally it all up. The total was roughly $64,000. Yes, you read that right.
Panic set in, and I started working something like 80 hours a week to get it paid off. No, I didn’t tell my husband. I didn’t want him to find out till it was paid off.
You can imagine that I was not exactly nice to be around during this time. Working like mad, mom to three young kids, wife, etc – I was stressed.
Eventually, my husband did find out. And eventually, I paid it all off. But that isn’t really what the story here is about.
The real story is that in my journey, I learned a lot. And I don’t regret that journey one single bit. I have no thoughts about “what-might-have-been” if I’d never gotten into debt to begin with. Because the fact is, I needed it to happen just as it did.
I’m very open with my story. I tell everyone – including people who think I’m nuts for telling anyone. In fact, one gal actually said to me, “I can’t believe you tell people you racked up over sixty thousand dollars worth of debt. Aren’t you ashamed of it?”
“Nope. Not a bit,” was my response.
It’s exactly the opposite actually. I feel like a freaking super star for paying off that much debt. Obviously, the fact that I spent a ton of money on a bunch of crap I didn’t need isn’t my finest hour – but instead of berating myself, I am proud that I didn’t require assistance to make it go away. I did it all by my freaking self. And I want everyone to know that.
Not only does it make me feel awesome, but I know that it helps other people to know that I did it. Because if I could do it, they can do it.
You can do it. Whatever you stumbled over, you can pick yourself up and climb higher than you were when you fell.
Just get up. Start moving. And climb.