New year resolutions. I always found them a little odd. Like, you go to bed on the 31st and with the turn of the hands of time, you wake up someone different? I’m not jaded, I just think I understand human nature a little. Bad habits (and good ones) are part of your character. Your personality. Unlikely to magically overhaul because a new year is born.
I should have done this work better when I first arrived in Texas. But you see, I was married. My social life was my husband and my twin step-sons. And then any other social opportunities came from his family or friends. And so, one of the things I blame myself for is social deprivation. I wanted to fit into his life, rather than balance my own and create my own circle of friends.
That was clearly a mistake. Because my social life wasn’t mine. It was a hand-me-down from my former, by proxy. I was running a house, trying to be a good stepparent, wife, daughter in law and aunt. I thought that was what I was supposed to do. Assimilate.
Resistance is Futile Canadian Girl
You think I am exaggerating right? What if I told you I stopped making and eating my favorite foods? If he didn’t like them. I stopped going to open mic poetry (spoken word) which is a root passion of mine. I stopped many things because frankly I was exhausted. I was working my business and clawing in every dime I could. Where did it go? I spent it on indulging my family. And you know, paying 99% of everything.
That was the dynamic of our relationship. I felt like an ATM machine because I was one. In retrospect, I gave up my family and friends to “boldly go. I gave up my energy and life balance, to compensate for his lack of financial contribution. I gave up everything except hope.
And then one day, that was gone too. And I began to grieve the shadow of myself that I had become. Who is this girl? Not Skylar. Why is she tolerating all these bad things? Because of my stepchildren actually. I think that’s the root cause of my tenacious attempts to fix a dying horse. When in reality, I should have taken a NERF gun to the relationship in 2017. I would have sustained less hull damage.
What Is This Shy Stuff?
If you told any of my family and friends back home that I was acting shy, they’d probably fall off their chair. Knowing this is true, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this. Specifically, last night, I think I counted 8 serious blush attacks. And a few minor ones.
What the actual hell? That’s not me. After a few drinks, one girl kind of laid into me about being apprehensive and reserved. But that is easy to say when you’ve had a few drinks. I was stone cold sober. And still trying to figure a few things out in my head.
Because I have diabetes, I try to steer away from booze these days. Delta-THC is (this week) legal in Texas. So, I default to using Delta-10 (happy synthetic) to elevate my mood. Problem? I live about 30 minutes away from the town I like to go to events in. And since impaired driving has never been my thing (and Uber would be super expensive round trip) I tend to stay sober at the events.
And talkative, but more reserved. The thing is that for me, it is hard to let loose and be NOT sober, when I have to get home on my own. And when I am surrounded by people I don’t really know that well (yet). You would have thought it was my first bar or something. I did talk. Toward the end of the night I unwound a little and hit the karaoke mic. I sang a duet with one guy that was a little smitten in me. Was flattering. Seemed like a nice guy, but I didn’t feel the attraction. I was nice. I told him I was kind of hung up on someone else. He accepted that… after the fourth attempt to get my number.
That is a lie, by the way. I’ve moved on from the pursuit of someone because we’re clearly not a match. And that’s fine. There is no resentment in my heart for him. No anger. At this point, there isn’t even any disappointment. It just is what it is. I am not his flavor. Life goes on. And I’d rather be pursued by someone who vibes along the lines of “holy crap she’s awesome… I want to get close to her”. I want someone interested. Someone who makes those overtures. Someone who thinks I am exceptional.
And I got a little dose of that last night from a couple people. It was flattering. Inflated my ego more than a little. What? I am cute? Seriously? But I am fat?!?! Sure, alcohol was involved but the overtures that were made last night were appreciated. I’m not used to having guys gush over me. Actually, kind of makes me uncomfortable. I’d rather they didn’t. But I got gushed on. And it was nice.
The crush is gone. And I am relieved. It felt crappy. And I am 10000% positive that the object of my unexpected attempted affection will be breathing a sigh of relief also. We can both forget it even happened, and maybe be friends. Now that my wacky fever for him has passed, I’m no threat. And I’ll continue to enjoy his banter on Facebook without being invested in any hopeful outcome. Last night shifted that gear into park. And I am glad it did.
Learning to Let My Hair Down (A Little)
So, if a man reaches to touch me, I jump. Weird right? Well, maybe not so weird. I was someone’s wife for 8 years. I was used to one person touching me. So there is a default setting in there. I actually feel like I conduct myself as a married woman still. Or I did in 2021. I’m not doing that anymore.
My former has moved on and found himself a fabulous relationship. Not that I needed that to happen for closure, but it advances the mindset. He’s not mourning the end of the marriage. He’s getting his pickle-tickled and doing fun things. And I am done with being excessively reserved and denying myself joy, laughter and fun.
But that’s the blame-game I have been playing with myself. Punishing myself for a failed marriage. For perhaps, marrying him at all and moving to the United States? I miss home, but Texas has become home to me now. And clearly, I intend to stay, because I am putting down roots like a MF now. In my social life.
Toward the end of the night, I let loose. I sang one of my favorite songs…
And then I was invited by a flirty fellow, to do a duet of “Summer Nights” from Grease. We killed it. The only time I messed up (because of COURSE I know that song…by heart) was when he playfully started tickling me on stage. Revert back to the lyrics… “noo nooo nooo… you’re not the one for me”.
But he was sweet. And I was polite. He was persistent. I was politer. I know my barometer. I felt that lit up circuit board recently. So I am trusting that response. BING! BING! Then yes, receptive. No bing? Sorry… let’s laugh and talk but … sorry…
I’m enjoying the events. And the people I meet. I am so grateful for that. Because now, for the first time in so many years, I feel like I have a reason to step away from work. Step away from my projects… live. Laugh. Meet people. Make memories. Let my hair down. And enjoy the beauty of being around open, fun, smart and down to earth people.
And that feels really (really) good.
