random thoughts while on a trip to nowhere really

I am  embarking on a week's vacation with the children and use this time to try and mend my soul. 

So far it's not working. 

There are a million other places I'd rather be right now. The first place is wrapped in the strong safe arms of the man who broke my heart.  I play over the words and all the things he told me in the deep steady murmur of his voice and it pains me. Because I wanted to believe everything he said. I dove off this cliff into this thing called 'love' and I think I went splat. I feel so lost as I stare out of the window of this airplane. I need someone to catch my emotions as they tumble down full tilt from the sky. I have saved a few lives doing my job. Who  can save mine now?  

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Dark heavy clouds loom over my heart like the plague.  Not even my children's exuberance can pull me out of this funk.   Rather, I feel impatient and curt with them because I am lost and consumed by my thoughts.  I feel like the worst mother and person in the world. I don't want to hold it together anymore.  What is wrong with me? I am in another country by the beauty of the ocean and all I want to do is wail.  

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I do not want to be around strangers, buffet lines and least of all tourists in their loud mumuus and hairy banana hammocks smelling of coconut oil and cheap rum.  I swear I will smack the next person who tries to grab me by the hand to do the cha-cha or two step or whatever the fuck the dance of the moment is on the Lido deck.  I need to be alone with my thoughts. But it only magnifies how lonely I am now that I am away from my daily distractions that allow me to escape on a certain level. Here, in the middle of the ocean, I feel like I can't run from myself because wherever I go there I am which goes to show that I am stuck with me whether I'm at home or on a rocket to the moon so I better figure out something pretty darn quick.   

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Aha. Maybe i have figured out why I am feeling so cuckoo.  Sex. Or rather lack thereof. A giant roll in the hay would be a great salve. But lovemaking, sweet sweet lovemaking would be a cure for my soul. Can you tell it's been much too long since I've been laid? Ugh. I am going to die an old maid. Ugh.

Ironic and funny and kind of sad and pathetic that while  married I made a thousand excuses to get out of sex. And now that is all I can think about. 

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You'd think with having worked with nothing but men for the past 10 years that I would have them figured out now. 

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I feel somewhat better this morning. Sleeping with the  lull of the ship, being rocked gently back and forth among the waves reminds me of once upon a time being cradled in someone's safe arms. 

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I see octogenarians walking hand in hand along the beach without speaking, yet somehow I am sure they have been together for so long they speak telepathically. They seem to carry the quiet certainty of love that is forever and a day. And I am extremely jealous. 

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I stare out into the ocean and somehow feel tiny and insignificant. But being so small compared to the sea heals me because I see how my problems are just a flash in the universe. Still, they are MY problems. And they swallow me whole. 

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Once again I stare out into the ocean and  I pray for a sign that I will be ok:  A dolphin? A rainbow maybe? A volcanic eruption? Sigh. Nothing. 

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This is crazy. I am yet again suffering from insomnia so I am hunkered down in the 4x4 foot cabin bathroom writing this so my kids can sleep in the dark. And also so that they can't hear me cry.  I stare at the mirror under the harsh fluorescent lights and wonder, who is this woman who looks back at me. I look deep into her tired eyes in search for a friendly smile or a glimmer of hope.  None. 

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Maybe I need to get plastered. As in rip roaring drunk. But then again, I hate drinking alone.  Besides, I say stupid, stupid things when I am drunk, which is why I don't drink much in the first place. 

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Maybe I am a massachist  (sp?) in that I choose to be in pain. After all, pain can be exquisite. But I've decided pain of the heart is not

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Maiya asked me what I wanted Santa to bring me. To which I replied: 'Tall, dark and handsome'. She just looked at me quizzically and scampered off to get another helping of ice cream. 

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Life is looking up. Now I'd love to say I met the man of my dreams but nope, found a chin up bar at the very top front (forward?) of the ship in such a secluded place I finally felt like I could breathe. I didn't shout 'I'm the King of the World' or anything stupid or cheesy like that. But rather, I did one hundred burpee pull ups like a badass GI Jane. Did my first 3 finger pull up. Ok six if counting both hands. Hey, gotta find happiness where it comes. 

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Just realized that maybe this yet again painful period in my life is my Phoenix rising. Maybe I am being transformed!  Hopefully whatever I am in the middle of right now passes quickly because this clenched fist over my heart blows big time.