From one strong woman to another

Dear J,

I know that life is hurting right now. Every waking breath you take hurts. You hurt for what you have lost, for what you will never have. For the dreams that you held and then watched slip away from you because of someone else’s decision.

You feel out of control, like you can’t put the pieces back together. That maybe you were meant to be stuck where you are right now, because that’s where he put you with his choice.

That you can’t go back and you aren’t strong enough to move forward.

But you are and you will.

He left, true. But he left because of a deficit in him. Whether it was a restless soul, a lack of being able to commit, a want for something that he didn’t think that he had where he was.

But, the bottom line here is that he left because of a fault of his. Because he couldn’t hack it where he was and he decided to leave.

I know that you loved him and that your future seems so dull without him. I know that it hurts you when you wake up in that bed and realize that he is not lying there beside you. I know that it feels weird to do things around your house with no expectations thrust upon you by another person.

All of those things make you feel lost. All of those things, maybe, make you feel weak because you wonder what he would think about the new curtains that you hung, or the dust catcher that you bought.

I understand. I understand all of what you are feeling and what you are going through. I know how hard it is to stand on your own without that idea, that feeling, of someone being there at your back. I get it. It makes you think that you aren’t strong enough to stand on your own.

But you are.

You are strong enough. You can stand on your own.

Look at you! You’re already doing it. You’re doing it and didn’t even realize that you are.

He left and you didn’t fall down in a ball on the ground and die. You lived! You chose to live without him. You chose to have a life that didn’t include him. You are strong.

You are strong enough to get up every day. You are strong enough to do the things that need to be done: go to work, shop for groceries, do the laundry, take a shower, shave your legs (never underestimate the power of a smoothly shaven leg. They do wonders!).

You are strong enough that you make plans with your friends for the future. You are strong enough that you plan a menu for the month, to start shopping for Christmas gifts in June, what you want to do for your summer vacation.

You are strong enough that you are looking to YOUR future. Where you want to go, what road you want to take, things that you want to experience.

And here’s the cool thing about that: THE SKY’S THE LIMIT! You don’t have to wait for anyone or anything to do these things with you. You can do them on your own.

You can take those cooking classes you’ve always wanted to take, the dance classes you thought would be cool, the water aerobics class that you’ve been eyeing for months.

You can do all of these things. Why?

Because you are strong.

Strength is not about being bold and flashy. That kind of strength is fleeting, forgotten as quickly as it came.

Your kind of strength is the strength that moves mountains. It is quiet, fluid. Like water, it may not work quickly, but it is powerful, carving valleys out of solid rock. Your strength is the kind of strength that everyone wishes they had because it will carry you through all of your days. It will flag, sometimes, this is true. But it will come back, stronger than ever.

Nothing can hold you back. You are a force to be reckoned with.

Keep getting up, going to work, doing laundry, shaving your legs. Keep doing these small things. They are the foundation upon which your strength will stand and assert itself. Sometimes when you least expect it to.

That quiet strength will take you through the rest of your life, with no room to look backwards because your future is taking all of your energy and concentration.

You are strong. You inspire me, and everyone around you, with your strength.

Don’t ever doubt it.

Sincerely,

Miss Independent (formerly The Forgotten Wife)

PS: Demi Lovato has a great song called “Skyscraper” that I think pretty much sums it up. And with a much prettier singing voice than I could ever have. I’ve included it here for you. I hope you like it and that it helps strengthen your resolve. Listen to the words. You are a skyscraper. Don’t forget it!

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The Weirdest Dream EVER

For those of you that have been reading my new and improved blog, you’ll know that my pipes have frozen up for most of the past two weeks.

They thawed for approximately 20 hours the other day and we threw a party, complete with showers, laundry and dishwasher running.

Yeah!  I have a mop and I'm ready to party *said no woman ever*

Yeah! I have a mop and I’m ready to party *said no woman ever*

I mean, really, when I get excited about cleaning the house, you know it’s been a ridiculous time for us. I mean, I hate housework. No, that’s not right. I LOATHE it, with a passion usually reserved for Stalin and idiot racists.

But, that’s not the point of this post.

Because the pipes froze, we have been unable to shower at the house. Yes, the shower was out of commission, the toilet was not refilling, the washing machine, the kitchen sink and dishwasher were all out of commission. Pots and pans are stacking up, we’re eating with plastic silverware and off of paper plates to keep the dishes to a minimum.

But it was the showers that were killing me. Or, lack thereof.

Not to say that I wasn’t keeping clean, shaving all that needed to be shaved. Applying soap in all the necessary places.

Needless to say, it wasn’t anything like Julia Roberts in Beverly Hills.

No, it was more like Laura Ingalls in her Little House.

I would boil a tea pot of water on the stove. I had to fill said tea pot in the bathroom sink because it was the only one with running water. I then had to wait for it to boil. Then, take it back to the bathroom and pour it into a bowl, a little at a time, and use it to wash my hair (mixed with cold water, obviously) and shave, and PTA bathe so that I could be seen in public.

It was a ridiculous amount of work and got old very quickly.

Obviously, the idea of the shower not working was taking up a lot of space in my mind, consciously and subconsciously, as evidenced by the dream I had last night.

I dreamt I went to a whorehouse. No, I didn’t work there. I was a customer.

Yes, women can frequent whorehouses, too

Yes, women can frequent whorehouses, too

I talked to the lady at the desk and paid my money. I then stuck my hand in a big jar, a la Hunger Games the reaping

I came up with a doozy. It was the perfect man. Beautiful blue eyes, hair that you want to run your fingers through, amazingly straight teeth. And, he spoke fluent French.

Yes, I drew out the name Bradley Cooper.

Who wouldn't volunteer to be with him???

Who wouldn’t volunteer to be with him???

Bradley Cooper, who is an orgasm on a stick, was to entertain and please me all night long.

It was my personal wet dream come true.

So, I took the name that I had drawn out, picked up my bag (cause you never know what you’ll need for a night of sexual fun and pleasure) and stepped through the curtain into the whorehouse proper.

And immediately stopped.

I never got to have my night with Bradley Cooper. I never knew his sweet, sensual touch on my skin.

Because the whorehouse had the most spectacular showers on the face of the earth.

Do you understand? I gave up a night of sexual healing with Bradley Cooper to TAKE A SHOWER.

I chose a SHOWER over BRADLEY COOPER.

There is something so wrong with that.

Now, excuse me while I boil some water. I need to clean up the remnants of my dream….

Woot! I did it!

When I first moved into my new place and took a shower, I realized that there was a small lake outside my shower stall door. My friend took a look at it and determined that the rubber stopper on the door was rotted out and needed to be replaced.

So, today I went to Home Depot and bought one. It was fairly cheap. About $3 and seemed fairly easy to install. You just remove the old one and slide the new one into the grooves that the manufacturer so conveniently put there for that little piece of rubber.

Yeah, nothing in my life is easy, so why should this be any different?

I took off the metal piece from the bottom of the shower still door. That was easy. A Phillip’s head screwdriver and I was in business.

Once it was off, I proceeded to realize how freaking NASTY that metal piece was. Like, it had never, ever been removed and cleaned in all the years that this trailer has been lived in. Seeing as how this trailer was produced in 1982, that’s about 30 years of crap that was built up on that. Soap scum, mildew, hair. OMG it was totally gross!!!

So, first order of business, Clorox wiping the hell out of that thing!

Then, moving on to pulling that rubber thingy out.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to come out easily. It had rotted in spots, torn away in others. It took me a butter knife, flat head screw driver, Phillip’s head screw driver, box knife and 5 damn hours to get that thing off of there.

I never before realize that rubber could literally fuse with steel. I had no damn idea that that was even scientifically possible.

But, after much elbow grease, and much frustration, I finally got that track clear enough that I could put the new one on.

It was beautiful! Clean and fit perfectly. I put it back on the bottom of the shower stall door and closed the door to admire my handiwork.

And realized that the damn door is cockeyed. 😦