We invest, we love, we fuck up, we lose
Then hopefully
We learn, and we move on.
Over and over, an endless repetitive cycle
It’s like some perverse Groundhog Day.
We are given a Ferrari and treat it like it’s a Chevette.
We are sat at the table of a five-star restaurant
But we’ve eaten in front of the TV or out of the pot over the stove
For so long we don’t know which fucking fork to use?
We rarely appreciate how amazing a gift is
How lucky we are at that very moment.
We truly never really know what we have until it is taken away
Or worse, when they decide to leave you...
Maybe it’s a subconscious form of masochism
Self-loathing doused in self-pity
But inherently, we ‘discarded folk’
Reflect on when it all started
When it was good.
Happy.
We mutter introspective things like
“How the fuck did we get here?” or
“Why does this continually fucking happen to me?”
We sit there feeling sorry for ourselves
Licking our wounds and attempting to convince ourselves
We are better off, another door will open. I
Seeking that so-called silver lining.
You know, the one you manufacture to make your fuck up less awful.
It’s that ‘we learn, we move on’ part I continually struggle with.
You’d think I’d have a Ph.D. in relationships by now?
I should be touring the country and lecturing on the subject.
Book signings, tweeting helpful hints and
Have a permanent guest spot on Super Soul Sunday.
And yet, I don’t.
I’m not.
Instead, I am hunched over a dusty keyboard
Chicken pecking while my mind does mental gymnastics.
I’m one of the dumbest smart people I know.
Seriously I am a forty-something fucking toddler.
I’m the one everyone comes to seeking advice, yet I’m a never-ending dumpster fire.
Life can be a conniving asshat sometimes.
Too often, it feels as if I am putting together a puzzle without the box top.
Cluelessly pressing pieces together in hopes of miraculously seeing
The complete picture.
Nope.
Instead, I fumble.
Fail.
And then there you.
Spoiler alert: I fucked up and… surprise surprise… I lost.
This is real life, not Disney after all.
But this time it sincerely felt different
I’ll save you the melodramatic lamenting and therapy catchphrases.
This time
(And yes, I know that those two words have been uttered before
And only time will tell if I’m full of shit)
The ‘we learn, we move on’ part is a priority.
Not an afterthought
Not a broken promise I’ll rationalize not fulfilling.
I’m tired of licking wounds.
The next time I’m fortunate enough to sit behind the wheel of a high-end sports car
I’ll cherish it.
Now, I’m still not sure of placement but I do know this
The dinner fork is the bigger one
And my wine glass goes on the top right.
Right?
Regardless… that look of indifference in your eyes haunts me still.
A painful clarion call.
I think we are given a handful of Zen-like pivotal moments in our lives.
The kind that Karma justifiably curb stomps you for ignoring.
So, with big girl panties and a humility sports bra on
I learn and I move on.
PS. The dinner fork is also referred to as the place fork, you savage!