Endings

I've never been so happy to see a month end. This past November was one of the worst months of my life, and I've lived a few doozies, let me tell you.

I missed a very important deadline in the academic world, thus ending my streak of always having my grades in on time to date. I was officially called upon the carpet for it and have officially apologized to parents and students alike. Safe to say, I will never make that mistake again.

Also ending this month was any free time that I ever had - now with another person hanging around the house, an adolescent person who needs a ride to and from work, swim practice, and school, I've found I've less time to indulge in my afternoon winding-down rituals.

Scarily, almost ending this month was my marriage. For nearly 20 years now, my union with the WCM has been stable - boring at times, irritating as sand in your swimsuit at others, but always stable. It was rocked hard this month, and the sad part about that is that he doesn't even know it. Suffice it to say that I should have a fucking Oscar on my mantelpiece for the acting that I can do. Believe me when I tell you that he knows what the problem is. He just doesn't know the magnitude to which it affects me. I've told him. Repeatedly. He just. doesn't. get. it.

Lastly, a few of the illusions I've had about myself have ended. I've had the chance to look clearly at myself in the mirror and examine the parts of me (physical and not) that have been giving me agita for a while. I've accepted that I'll never wear a bikini, but that I can look damned sexy with the right lingerie. I've accepted that I'll probably never find what I'm looking for within my marriage, but I don't know what I want to do about that at this point. I've accepted that I could and should work a little harder at my job, but am not sure what I'm going to have to give up in order to do that.

So many endings without subsequent beginnings. No wonder November was bleak.