Three years ago yesterday I made a choice.
People were getting really sick and tired of what was going on, and I was losing my footing very quickly. There was nowhere else to go but down.
Ultimately, it had to come from me, but really, I owe it to God and my family. I think I had very little to do with it myself.
I won’t get into specifics here, because they are personal and painful, and I’m saving the really good and juicy stuff for my book, which you will have to buy if you want to know what the hell I’m talking about, and because I have my eye on a king bed that is just to die for. So I hope your curiosity is peaked.
And if you already know, then shut up.
Anyway, the day passed by uneventfully, and that’s just the way I like it.
Because once I climbed out of that chaotic darkness and back into the “real” world, my first concern was that I was going to be bored out of my freakin mind.
And you know what? Sometimes I am bored.
Bored with the same dinner menu.
Bored with the same dishes stacked in the sink.
Bored with the same phone calls that come in, each day, like clockwork.
Bored with checking my email when I wake up.
Bored with my lesson plans at school.
Bored with Superman’s whiny voice asking for fruit snacks at 6:30 a.m.
Bored with my size 12345 jeans
Bored with taking the same road to the same place with the same people
I get stuck in a rut like anyone else and suffer from discontent.
But I would never wish for that life back, the one I left three years ago. The one that prevented me from feeling this boredom, reveling in the mundane, taking comfort in a life that moves forward, like clockwork and expects me to show up and deal with it.
So yesterday I humbly celebrated three years of freedom and a sometimes boring life by hugging the hell out of my husband and thanking him for sticking it out.
Then we had boring old broccoli and bbq chicken for dinner.
And it was Delicious.