Confessions of the non-Usher kind

It's been a long while since I last wrote much of anything, save the grocery list-but last year was a rough year in some ways. I can't say that I don't write because I don't have the time...the truth is in the last year I have had more time on my hands than I have had since I was a child. I only worked in the afternoons at a private academy teaching English, but my mornings were entirely free. Well, perhaps free isn't the word. I always found things to occupy myself with like my OCD cleaning or organizing my then future husband's house. Taking out the dog for really long walks. Working out. But there were so many struggles last year with making it legal for me to stay here in Spain. Adjusting to a new life here without the support system I had at home. Last year I also came to the sad realization that some of my friends weren't really my friends. One of my so-called closest girlfriends friend-dumped me a few months before my wedding which may sound silly to an outside person, but was fairly devastating. Mind you, after several nasty emails in which she described what a disappointing friend I had been. I've learned that for the most part, women as friends can't be trusted with a few beautiful exceptions. That same girl went on to befriend what I thought was another friend of mine and continues to have a relationship with them. Some people really are a smack in the face.

Then a family disagreement/misunderstanding having to do with a wedding date led to the final severing of a long-strained relationship between one side of my family and the other, with me being the scapegoat this time. For years, I had been the only one trying to mend something that was impossible. A regular Humpty-Dumpty I was. I didn't stop writing for lack of things to write about, that much is clear.

Maybe I don't write or paint for lack of motivation, or rather a lack of energy. In March my doctor here diagnosed me as hypothyroid and while I am happy to have a reason for all of the things that were making me think I was going crazy, I am afraid that now it is a thing upon which to lay all of my excuses for everything although every bodily-instinct tells me otherwise.

My mind is scattered all the time and my memory which was never much to speak of has kind of gone down the toilet. Sometimes the depression is stifling and I usually can find no reason for it. It's like living in a permanent and dismal brain fog...pulling myself out of quicksand. To add insult to injury, I moved to Spain last September to marry but I still don't speak much more Spanish than I did in high school. Being around a second language when you don't have much energy to try to learn to communicate better can be exhausting at times. Other times, I am relieved to be on the other side of the Atlantic where I have removed myself from the past that was haunting me there. Speaking of high school; sadly I don't remember much of it. No no, it's not because I had TOO much fun or that I am choosing to block it out. I would love to remember my friends that I had then and maybe some of the reasons why many of them drifted away sometime after 9th grade but all of that is lost in the past and perhaps better off for being there- I'm not sure. As it is, there is only the one left that I still remember well and that is mostly because she is the only one that is still in my life. But that is another subject altogether.

I know that the universe has a plan for all of us and blah blah blah, but these days I believe that less and less. These days all that it takes to depress me is a glimpse into a person's happy Facebook life and a Wilco song. I am comparing myself to an age or stage of life and what that should mean -certain things, of which I have only accomplished one. Real or imagined, it seems like everyone is ahead of me in this non-existent race that I feel that I am running in.

I see most of the people I know moving on with their lives, having their 2.5 children and I'm just stuck between not knowing if I want to take that step and knowing somewhere deep inside that if I choose to it is going to be at struggle for me. I'm not allowed to even try to have kids until they regulate my thyroid, but now that I am 34 I feel like time is against me. Maybe none of this is worth worrying about. If things are meant to happen they will. Everything happens for a reason. It's just that sometimes I wonder if that's true or not or if it is only something we tell ourselves to make things softer.

Before I depress the crap out of even the trees outside, I have to mention the several good things that did happen too. I found a person that is able to make me happy which is a pretty difficult task sometimes, I have to admit. We got married; something I thought I would never do after a rather dreadful dating history. He has a nice family who despite the language barrier have always made me feel welcome and for the most part comfortable. I found a job in a country with a less than stellar economy and I work for a woman who is both compassionate and wise who has also found me a private lesson with a student whom I both enjoy and learn from. My dog is annoying, but lovely. Both of my brothers are growing up to be nice men. My little sister got married to a wonderful guy. I care less and less about what people think of me and I don't feel the need to explain my actions to anyone. I rediscovered my love for reading and have properly devoured several books. I ended a long dispute with a former employer in my favor and can now close the door on that. My world has gotten bigger and New Jersey ain't the whole world.