Becoming the best version of yourself

“It’s Never Too Late To Be Happy”? So This Article Says:

I know, I know – my moods and reflections on life swing back and forth about as crazy as a coiled up spring that’s been suddenly “sprung free”!  Go figure!  I think it’s due to my nature of always trying to find the positive, or live with hope?

If the article says it’s never too late to be happy, then of course we should believe it . . . right?  But it’s such a struggle at times.  Even though in the grand plan for my life, I’m sure there are valid reason’s why I’m alone right now, why none of the jokers I go out with work out, why I get to spend one more holiday season skipping parties because I hate going out alone.

I know deep down that I have many many blessings that the good Lord has granted me and I should sit back and rejoice in them.  I have two amazingly wonderful and successful sons, two daughter n’laws who adore them, and two beautiful healthy grand babies!!  I have two sweet rescue dogs who love me unconditionally and want nothing more than to be by my side 24/7.

Do you hear the operative number here?  Every thing in my life seems to revolve around the number two – except for a relationship with a “significant other”.  Do I need one to be happy?  Probably not, and at this point it’s looking like I better hope not.

At the end of the day though, I have to go back to those “three C’s” that I mentioned in a much earlier post.  “You didn’t cause it, you can’t change it and you can’t control it”.    Life happens and I may not like it – but I do have to learn how to deal with it.   I am alone right now through no fault of my own, and I’m much better off being single than married to a chronic adulterer, right?  If only being happy with being alone was easier . . .


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Oh So Lonely . . .

11755080_857285891027414_4806141563168382120_n  This photo really grabbed my attention – it is SOOO me!   I grew up watching my Mom do the same thing.  Always caring and worrying about everyone else, doing very little to take care of her own needs or keeping her own dreams alive.  My Dad’s dreams were therefore her dreams.

I remember once being very young, and finding my mother sitting in a darkened bathroom, perched on the edge of the tub, just sitting there crying.  It was scary for a little girl, not understanding but wanting to comfort.  Later on when I was older I realized she has just suffered another miscarriage in their attempt to bring a second baby into the family.  To this day it’s one of the saddest things I’ve ever witnessed.   Silent tears and feeling that alone – I couldn’t imagine it nor understand it at my young age.

Now I get it.

My loneliness is a living breathing thing that I fight down, or attempt to, all the time.  Married couple “friends” hang out with “married couples”, it’s just what they do.  My single GF’s suffer the same as I do.  Don’t get me wrong, we do get together and try to help each other get through our lonely times – but just not the same as having your own “person”.  I so miss just holding hands with someone.

Humans need touch, we need people.  We were not built to be alone.  One of my biggest fears as I get older is that I will die alone.  The other day I lost a good friend to cancer, she had been battling it a long time but did it with such beauty and grace.  She had been a lifeline to me during the TYOTD, and was one that helped me hold it together.  She was my horse trainer and a gentle soul.  I would cry on her shoulder and she would offer gentle non-judgmental hugs whenever needed.  They were needed a lot that summer . . .

I never had to ask, she just knew I needed someone.  I don’t ever ask.  It’s wrong of me to assume that people will know I’m hurting, that I’m lonely, and I need them.  But I am like the photo above, always caring for others, trying to help others, and hiding from my own needs.  Can’t people see how hurt I am, how alone I am?  I mask it well, many years of practice and I learned from the best.

I’m so blessed that my Mom is still alive and almost 97.  She knows the “adult” me is here for her now, she doesn’t have to cry those silent tears.  And maybe someday soon I won’t have to either?

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A New Vocabulary Word – “Luv’yabut”


That’s right – I’m now inventing words.   It’s been fun writing for my blog, getting my feelings out there, knowing that others are actually reading and listening to my thoughts.  It’s never been about getting you to necessarily agree with me, but just to listen.

I’m a very symmetric person – yes I’m the one that straightens paintings on the wall.  I alphabetize my spices, I load the dishwasher a certain way.  I like balance, evenness, routine – things and people I can count on.

In my writing I love alliteration, abbreviations and making up words that just seem to sum it all up.  Last night I had the “luv’yabut” epiphany.  It explains so many things about relationships.  Prior posts have generated comments on this blog about trusting animals more than trusting humans.  I know how that feels.  Hence the photo included above.  So true.

Back to the “luv’yabut” – it’s true definition would be along the lines of, “I love you but . . .” and then add the criticisms or demands.  No one ever just likes you for who you are, they want you to change into THEIR version of who you should be.  They want you to act the way THEY want you to act.

I love you but . . . I really wish you wouldn’t dress that way, wear your hair that way, do your makeup like that . . .

I love you but . . . I want you to do it my way because it’s better, faster, smarter, simpler, easier, cheaper . . .

I love you but . . . shouldn’t you be eating healthier, less sugar, more protein, veggies and fruit, working out?

I love you but . . . I don’t want to go on that trip, have dinner with that person, visit your parents . . .

I love you but . . . I don’t want you to be friends with that woman, buy a ticket to that event, enroll the boys in camp . . .

I love you but . . . that’s the stupidest idea you’ve ever had . . .

I had a lot of “luv’yabut” in my 30 years of marriage.   Now that I’ve been out of it going on 8 years, I look back and realize just how many times I capitulated because it was easier being his version of me, than my version of me.

I still make mistakes, and still do crazy things sometimes – but I own them.  Now I live my life for the “luv’yacauz”!  Hoping you do too!

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