A Bit of An Explanation

For those of you who read regularly, you've probably been a bit confused by my constant talk of how bored I am and how frustrating these first few weeks have been for me. Lord knows, I spent the last nine months talking about how I couldn't wait for all of this to happen. It must seem strange that now that it has, I'm not enjoying it.

I feel like I need to explain. All human beings are multifaceted, and I am no exception. There is the part of me that is so in love with this time in my life. That blissful mother who loves to be so needed and who enjoys the tasks that come with caring for our daughter. There is also the other sides, too.

One of the parts of my personality that has plagued me since I was a kid was the side of me that needs to feel intense energy occasionally. Unless you're one of those people, you probably have no idea what I'm talking about. You've probably never craved, and probably couldn't understand, the level of intensity that I'm talking about. And that's fine. But, it's a reality that part of who I am includes this need for intensity.

When I was a teenager, this translated into some serious self-destructive behavior. When I was in college, one of my best friends was the fix. Whenever I'd get in one of my moods, I'd call Jose. She and I would go out to the lesbian bar in town. This was such a trashy little dive, and the DJ wasn't great, but would play Top 40 stuff and even some of the golden oldies (think Push It by Salt 'n' Pepper!). The women who frequented this place were by and large 30+, flannel wearing, mullet haired couples looking to escape their normal lives. LOL - it was trashy. BUT...the music was so freakin' loud, you couldn't hear yourself think. The beer was seriously cheap. There was a $2 cover (who can't handle that???). And it was women - no men allowed. We would go and get shitty drunk - start the night off with lemon drop shots and then move to beer once you've reached your peak drunk. Then, Joce would grab my hand and we would dance out onto the dance floor, muscling our way into the dead center. And we would dance. All night long. The music would pulse through my feet, the smell of beer and smoke and girls was intoxicating. We would dance for hours, stopping only for more beer and the occasional bathroom break. When the bar closed, and they threw us out, we would stumble home (yep, it was stumbling distance) and pass out together. Now, don't misunderstand. Joce and I were never together, have never been lovers and wouldn't want to be. She's bi, with an emphasis on boys. But she got me. She got that need for intensity - for loud music that blew my brain to shit, and for hours of dancing that left my legs feeling like jelly and my body aching for days after. She got that, and for years, that's how I got my need for intense energy taken care of.

Well, life changes. Joce is out west and I am here. I'm a mother and a wife now, and clubbing just isn't going to happen. Even if Kelly indulged me and took me out dancing, it wouldn't be the same. I'm not a college student anymore. I can't get shitty drunk and stumble home.

Unfortunately, the need hasn't changed, but the circumstances have. I'll get it figured out. I'll find my outlet - the one that fits into my life now. I'll figure out how to meet my needs and still remain safely within the framework of the life I have worked so hard to create. The boredom comes from not having found that yet, but we're getting there. It's getting easier and easier.

I'm not one bit unhappy with my life. I am living the dream that I dreamed for years and years. How could I be unhappy? I am merely trying to put the pieces together in a way that works. So far, I'm not doing too badly.