I was sitting in bed tonight, reflecting on a big ass milestone and digesting how it feels. Unsettling? No just... unbelievable. My writing partner and I completed writing our television pilot after years of development, and so many hours of reconstructing and doubting. I read the last draft and felt nauseous and emotional all at once. I guess that means it was right. Or I sure bloody hope that's what it means. Maybe it sucks, but regardless it is done.
I remembered I blogged once upon a time. I'm not sure who I blogged for, but upon reflection I kinda think it was just for myself and anyone who got a kick out of the shit that goes through my head. I started this before Instagram, before Twitter, maybe even before Facebook? Nah, that dates me.
It was the only way for me to feel connected to the people who wrote me, admired my work (or bashed it, but meh whatever). It's a good way to get your voice out right?
I'm turning... 34 next month. Gross. I can't believe I got here so fast. Kidding, I'm grateful I'm alive and wise and whatever else I'm suppose to say. But no, really I am. It is kinda funny cause my last post was around my birthday too. I must get thinky this time of year.
My dad isn't alive and he was last time I wrote. That was a shitty journey, and it occurred to me tonight that he won't get to read my pilot. I started it when he was alive, several years ago. He wanted to read a book I started to write, but I kept it all from him and everyone else. I wish he could read it now. I think he would be proud. He'd for sure tell me some annoying constructive stuff that I'd roll my eyes at but then secretly take into account and likely adjust. I miss him. I wish he could read my story and annoy me with his notes tonight.
I've had some relationships since my last post. Learned that I am the best parent to my kids and no-one else needs to help me. That was a big lesson. One that us single moms need to eventually learn. We are capable and we are enough. My kids don't have a father and that's okay. It's not ideal, but it's okay. The love I have for them is enough to make up for a million fathers or men and they are going to be just fine.
We as women need to apparently get to a nice age of semi-ripening before we can learn the big lesson that we are truly amazing and capable and strong and kick ass on our own. Or at least I had to. My dad always wanted that for me and he'd be happy I finally got super comfortable being solo. In fact, I like my bed and bathroom to myself and I like my own Netflix cue so... there ya have it.
On that note I'm going to end this very random and odd post and say good night. Hopefully it won't be another 4 years and I will have something better to say for the next one.
Thanks for reading if you are and remember life goes on past heartache and break and loss and loneliness.
Peace and love.