Dating a Pot Head: I don’t MarjiWanna Do It Anymore. I Just Cantabis Take It.

Dating a Pot Head: I don’t MarjiWanna Do It Anymore. I Just Cantabis Take It.

Warning: This is a ranting whiny relationshipy post. Sorry.

I’ve known this fact but denied it for months. I feel  I can no longer continue my journey with J.

I wanted this to work. Not because it was convenient. Not because it was a rebound. Not because I need it.

But Continue reading “Dating a Pot Head: I don’t MarjiWanna Do It Anymore. I Just Cantabis Take It.”

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Home.

Home.

Cliches annoy me. They roll too easy off the tongue and involve little thought. But they exist because they are mostly true.

They say that:

Home is where the heart is.

It’s like a stupid sign I would hang in the living room as a decoration. I had certainly bought into that idea without putting thought into. Like, yes my address where I live is also where my family lives.  And until the divorce the idea of “Home” was simply a structure with walls and roof. A home was a thing you paint and fill. Something you pay for and something you can sell. Continue reading “Home.”

The House. His House. Our House?

The House. His House. Our House?

I went to the house to help label things to keep and things to junk. The floors need a good cleaning and the walls need a fresh coat of paint but otherwise its a nice simple home.

There was a few times I felt so rigid, stiff and uncomfortable I wanted to crawl out of my body and run away. But I didn’t. Life is hard. Things are hard. Running solves nothing.

But this house isn’t about me. It’s his victory. And I will let him have it. He’s a homeowner and he has a place that is HIS. To do what he wants with it.That’s awesome. I had my turn years ago with that. (And now it’s gone.) Continue reading “The House. His House. Our House?”

Pink Shirt At The End of The Bar.

Pink Shirt At The End of The Bar.

I met J one year ago today.
My Aunt is always kind and has always looked out for me. She is sweet and I enjoy the fact that she lives closer now. She went through a divorce recently so we have been sharing each other’s war stories, comparing “scars”.

She saw that last year I was finally on an upswing. I was going out, enjoying life again. I was still stuck in an angry patch about the divorce but I was ready to get out in the world and date. Continue reading “Pink Shirt At The End of The Bar.”