Confessions

So I have a confession...(don't we all?)

Several years ago I nearly got married. And for various reasons, I walked away instead. It was the right move, but goodness gracious - it was the hardest thing I have ever done.

For over a year after that, I didn't have any contact with the person I once was so in love with. Mostly because I am somewhat of a coward, but also because my walking away had nothing to do with not loving him anymore - I didn't walk away because I didn't love him. On the contrary, I did it because I loved him enough to do the right thing.

But here is the confession...I still talk to him. Not terribly often, but often enough. And it makes me feel horribly guilty and I know I shouldn't. But I just can't seem to ignore him. I know that he doesn't tell anyone that we have any contact - he is recently married and I am quite sure that my name doesn't come up in conversation. I am also quite sure that the contents of our conversation are not information that he sees fit to share with his new bride.

I know that I should just walk away, lest someone's feelings get hurt. But I can't seem to do it.

Bad Habits

I try to be nice. I am also an expert and biting my tongue. Most of the time. But one of my worst habits by far is having really AWFUL thoughts/wishes about people who tick me off. And I don't mean "I wish you would disappear". I'm talking more along the lines of "I wish you would get run over by a bus. A really BIG bus." Which isn't a very nice thing to think. I guess it's better than actually telling someone that I wish they would get run over by a bus. Right?

On Being Anonymous

I wondered if I really needed a pink apartment, since I think that most of the people who actually know me don't read my other blog anyway, although there are a few.

But just knowing that I have a special pink place where I am totally anonymous is strangely comforting.

Apparently sometimes it is nice to be faceless...

Losing It

Have you ever had one of those days that you think you are seriously going to lose your shit? I am talking about the days that you find yourself yelling at the drop of a hat, when normally those things would just roll right off your back. Instead of "oh, spilled milk? no problem, we'll just clean it up" you revert to "ARGH! Could we not have a spill for just the next five minutes?! ARGH". I find it no coincidence that ARGH! sounds very much like something an orge might be yelling, since I am feeling a little bit ogre-ish myself now that you mention it.

I think that if someone could invent patience in a pill that I would keep some - a big jar - on hand just for days like these....

Bitch, moan, whine, whine. I should just get over it already - a day that tests your patience is not all that unheard of. And tomorrow is another day to try again....

Welcome to Suite 13!

I have decided that I perhaps have enough bad luck in real life, so in my special pink apartment in the city, in the building full of pink pals, 13 will be lucky. Or so I'm hoping...

And because I have these great new digs, where I can say whatever I want, I will answer the question that the lovely Swistle posted the other day.

I was unmarried and a college graduate, living up the life that all young, single people think that they will have upon graduation. I had a great job, a sizeable expendable income, and loved every minute of it.

January 9, 2004 (coincidence that the original question was posed on January 9th as well, no?), and I was running an errand with a friend. I stopped cold before walking into a store and blurted out "Oh my God, I'm pregnant." Luckily, she was several steps ahead of me, and didn't hear a word I said. How she never noticed that my eyes were as wide as saucers and I was shaking like a leaf, I have no idea.

I don't really know how I knew, I wasn't even late at the time. But I knew. I KNEW. I had plans for the rest of the afternoon/evening, and it would have raised quite a few eyebrows if I had backed out, so I continued on like nothing was out of the ordinary. Although in my head I was going a million miles an hour....

The next day I went to Target and picked up a test. Which of course was instantly positive. Luckily I knew that was going to be the result, or I might have fallen over right then and there. Although instead of falling over, I just sat on the bed and thought about how lucky I was. I was going to have the thing I didn't even know I was missing, until it found me.

I made an appointment and saw an OB (and my background is in OB, so I was very careful about selecting someone that was not in any way affiliated with my job or the jobs of anyone that I knew who worked in OB...which was actually a lot harder than it sounds) and started to think about what it all was going to mean - I wasn't married, and I don't have any family around here.

I didn't tell anyone that I was pregnant, and was very careful not to let anyone ever suspect. I loved it, but it was like a secret just for me, that I could wrap up in whenever I wanted. Not telling anyone turned out to be the best decision I ever made, as I had a miscarriage early in the second trimester. The fact that no one knew saved me from a lot of explaining that I really didn't want to do.

I don't have any children of my own, and although I miss the one that could have been, I am alright with things as they are for now. And this is the perfect way to use my 'secret spot' since no one who actually knows me has any idea that I have ever been pregnant.