A Thousand Miles From The Place I Was Born

Once upon a time, there was a darling little princess named Lauren.

She was born to a lovely Queen who fell immediately head over heels in love with her and vowed to give her anything her heart desired. The Queen loved Princess Lauren so much, in fact, that she spent an entire weekend hand-stamping these flowers on the walls of her royal bedroom.

It was a room fit for a Princess, and was loved and cherished by the Queen’s beloved child for many, many years.

Then one day, Princess Lauren exclaimed, “OMG! I so totally hate these flowers!” It brought the Queen much heartbreak to think that her beautiful little child was no longer charmed by the quaint garden on her walls. She tried ignoring Princess Lauren, then bargaining with her, and finally pleading in desperation — all to no avail. The Princess was determined to have a “Teenager Room.” The Queen was devastated.

But being a doting, loving parent, The Queen bravely began to cover the lovely flowers with a coat of bright blue paint. In the process, she created quite a mess, dripping paint on every surface of the room. Frustrated, she gave up and determined that she would need to pay someone to do the job for her. She was, after all, a Queen — what did she know about painting??

Then one chilly December day, she met a fine Knight in Shining Armor who swept her off her feet with his gallant gestures and penchant for sushi. She was charmed and before too long, invited him home to the castle to see where she lived. When the Knight came upon the half-floral, half-blue bedroom, his eyes narrowed and he asked what on earth had happened. The Queen regaled him with horror stories of being covered in paint and shuddered as she explained that she had given up on the room altogether. The Knight laughed and informed her that he was, in fact, quite talented at painting and would gladly repair the room for free. The Queen was no dummy, mind you. She said, “Yes, thank you!” and left it at that.

Months later, the Knight and the Queen were becoming a couple. They spent nearly all their free time together and finally got up the nerve to say the word “relationship.” It was lovely and the Queen was enjoying herself very much. But alas! The room remained in its semi-painted state. The Queen was embarrassed to ask the Knight what happened to his offer, so she just kept her royal mouth shut. Since then, the Queen has come to understand that the Knight is something of a procrastinator, but will always get to the task at hand if you wait long enough.

But I digress.

Just days before the Knight was to leave for battle in the Land of Texas, he surprised the Queen by announcing that he would be painting the Princess’ bedroom that day. The Queen left to address her subjects and figured that when she returned, she would see a little progress if she was lucky. Imagine her great surprise when she saw this:

It was a beautiful bedroom with hand-painted clouds on the ceiling and a lacy canopy under which the Princess could lay her royal head. To Princess Lauren, it was the ideal “Teenager Room” and worthy of the loudest squeal of approval. But to The Queen, it was so much more. It was a kind gesture from The Knight to her beloved child, and it made her fall in love with him even more.

And they all lived happily ever after.

The end.

When I started this blog, a hundred million years ago, it was because I wanted an outlet for all the words that were bouncing around my brain.  I had always envisioned myself a writer, but never had the discipline to do anything about it.  I have always come to solutions through the written word, either by making a checklist to organize myself, or by carefully listing the pros and cons of any given situation in order to find the answer I needed.  Words have been my companion and my solace.

And then they left me.

When I went through my breakup with CCB, I came as close as I’ve ever been to a nervous breakdown.  The rug had been pulled out from under me, and I was utterly abandoned.  I nearly lost everything that mattered to me — my daughter, my home, my job.  The depression was so oppressive that I could barely make it through a single day.  But somehow, I did.  I held fast to the frayed strands of my life and hoped that something would snap me out of it.  My dear, wonderful friends were the ones who did that for me.  They loved me and supported me and told me I was better than my current circumstances.  And slowly, I began to repair my soul, piece by piece.

But my peace — my comfort — my words.  They didn’t return.

Is it possible that I can only write when I’m content?  That unlike so many great writers, depression only serves to silence me?  I suppose that’s okay, and I should be grateful for the ability to write whenever it is gifted to me.  But oh, how I miss it when it’s gone.  How easy it would be to cope with life’s trials if I could find the words to express myself.

And yet, they always return.  My words are always in the background, sometimes dust-covered and neglected, but always there.  Waiting for me to trust myself and use them again.  Truly, what a blessing to know that they can and will return.

So what has changed, you ask?  What has brought my words back to life?? Well, I’ll tell you…

First, a kicky new car, 100% paid in full and belonging ONLY to me!

Next, an adorable daughter who is becoming a lovely young lady before my very eyes…

And last but not least, love…

Yep, that’s Music Man. Bein’ all Rockstar and sexy. He’s going to kill me when he sees this, because he doesn’t like that picture at all. But I do, and isn’t that all that matters?? I mean, it’s my blog, ya’ll… I can do what I want!

We’ve been dating for almost six months, and although neither of us wanted a relationship, here we are. And we are to-the-soul, ‘aren’t-we-disgustingly-happy’ happy. Lauren loves him because he’s silly and tickles her. And I love that my two favorite people are becoming best little buddies (picture tweaked with iPhoto, ya’ll — they don’t really look like that!!):

He feeds and waters my guinea pigs and dogs when I forget. He makes sure I have enough cash for lunch at work. He spends hours tracing my arms with his fingertips until I fall asleep. He drives hours without complaining just so I can see Them Crooked Vultures in Vegas, then soothes my angry temper when I spend half the concert staring at the stupid girl who is dancing and preventing me from seeing my beloved Dave Grohl!! And when my temper flares up and I’m inches away from decking her trailer-park butt and she gets her boyfriend involved because she’s askeered of me, he silences her punk-ass boyfriend with one look that threatens “You don’t even want to mess with me, kid” while I get the delicious satisfaction of seeing them flee from us in terror. He is The Awesome, people. He’s sweet and bad ass at the same time. He’s funny and makes me laugh every day.

Music Man, in a nutshell, was totally worth the wait.