Wasted Summer

Four months.  Four months have pasted since we got married – tied the knot – locked it down – or what have you. It seems like forever ago but, yet, it feels like yesterday. So much has happened and so much has changed.  But, again, nothing really has happened or changed.

We had big plans for this summer, just like we do every summer.  We were going to get more use out of our tent, get those bikes off the garage ceiling for at least one trip, cram in an extra round of golf (or five). Somehow the summer slipped away and we didn’t get to accomplish any of those bucket list items.  The coveted warmth is quickly exiting, the trees are losing their fashionable shades, and our list of goals is now becoming unattainable.

I find myself feeling guilty about wasting our summer.  I know a large majority was spent lounging on the desk, guzzling wine, and attempting to heal my broken soul. And it was exactly what I needed.  What WE needed.  Each other.  That is all.

Yes, our “honeymoon phase” is marred by the pain of loss.

Maybe it is the soothing comfort of time but I am beginning to see a larger picture.  We managed.  We SURVIVED.  We supported each other and came out the other side. We dealt with it, and still deal with it, in our own ways.  But at the end of the day, his arms are the ones that comfort me when I breakdown and support me when a kind person casually asks me when we plan to start expanding our family.

I am trying to let go.  WE are trying to let go.

Hoping one day you’ll make a dream last
But dreams come slow and they go so fast


Fatal Flaw

Patience. I hate patience.  Mostly because I have so little – my patience bank has been overdrawn since the day I was born. Since, I have tried to build my patience skills but normally that fails because I am unable to patiently learn a new skill.  Vicious circle, I suppose.

Wait until your body recovers.  Wait until your body releases the correct hormones & cells. Wait until your travel schedule actually allows you to be in the same state, let alone the same house. Wait until you have to go and, finally, wait until the timer stops counting.  I H.A.T.E. waiting.

In the meantime, all I can do it hope but I feel like my “hoper” is broken.  If I hope too hard, I am afraid I will break my already damaged beyond repair soul. What if I hope so hard that I believe my dreams will be fulfilled and am disappointed?  Will I be able to recover from another loss? 

So instead, I stress. I am really good at stressing and worrying. It is the virtue I was given in place of patience.  I am told this can only make things worse and harder. Great. Which leads me to start stressing about stressing.  Dear lord, the cycle is unending.

Good things come to those who wait. Really?! Ain’t nobody got time for that.

Summertime Sadness