Don’t Stop Believin’


Year 1, Month 3, Day 5

Sorry for the cliché Journey song…but it is perfect for this post. LB

Turning fifty is a milestone; one I will celebrate A LOT in the coming months since most of my friends are hitting the half century mark this year.

In fact, I went to my first fiftieth birthday bash last night.

Holy-Bleep-3-Ply-Lunch-Napkins-50th-Birthday1

Last night’s birthday girl has had a bad couple of years.  She discovered her husband of 32 years had been having an affair.  She has always struggled with depression and fell into alcoholism after discovering her husband’s cheating.  Her hubby, also struggling with depression, had to get his shit together to help my friend find her way back from the brink.

They aren’t out of the woods yet, but seeing them together last night did my heart good….and gave me hope.  They are fighting to save their life together.   And even though they still struggle (my friend fell off the wagon about a month ago), they are walking proof of the tired old cliché, “If at first if you don’t succeed, try again.”

And, like most clichés, there is an element of truth in it….especially in your love life.

Think about it like this, Gentle Reader.

If you had given up on learning how walk after the first few times you fell on your ass you would still be crawling on your hands and knees. Or, if you had stopped learning how to use a knife and fork at meals, you would be eating like an animal on business lunches and dates.

But you didn’t give up… because it is human instinct to keep going.

As you learn, you always stumble and fall…until you find your feet and you take a few steps forward.

The same thing applies to our romantic relationships.

You will kiss a few frogs…you will be heartbroken a few times…you will want to crawl into a hole and vow to never get involved with anyone else.

But if you don’t allow yourself to be vulnerable, you’ll never enjoy the happiness at the end of it all.

Seeing my friend and her husband last night made me realize I shouldn’t hide myself away. I don’t need to settle for superficial “FWB” relationships and being second best.  I need embrace the falls and heart breaks when they happen and learn from them.

Loving myself and opening my heart are the first faltering steps into my next fifty years.

And I’m going to make fifty look fabulous.

Here Comes the Sun


Year 1, Month 3, Day 1

Welcome back, Gentle Reader.

I’m surprised you’ve returned, considering how gloomy my last posts were.   I guess all the wintry weather and Valentine’s Day got to me more than I realized.

But, I’m over it now.

I guess it was another case of the menopause blues.  🙂

When I woke up this morning, I could see the first rays of sunlight streaming into my bedroom, I could hear birds singing outside my window, and I could feel the warmth in the air.

The “long cold lonely winter” is nearly over.

Granted, I’m still not in a real relationship…I’m still in love with Peter… and I’m still looking for a full-time job.

But, the flip side is:

  • I know what I am looking for in a man (and I’m not going to settle)
  • I have the wisdom gained from my past relationships to guide me
  • I had a very promising job interview last week

In other words, things are starting to turn around for Lizzie.

I know it is trite to say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, but it really does.  I recognized the signs I was about to slide into another extended period of depression, and I’m nipping it in the bud.   I am going to live in the present and let the past go.  I am actually grateful for the experiences I have had over the last six years.

I look back and smile, because the last six years made me who I am NOW… stronger and wiser.

I KNOW I’m not a silver medalist.  I KNOW I’m not second best.  I KNOW I am going to find my Mr. Darcy.

Here comes the sun…
Here comes the sun…and I say…
It’s all right…

Going for the Gold


Year One, Month 2, Day 29

Gold, Silver, Bronze

I enjoy the Olympics…particularly the Winter Games.

I love the grace and beauty of figure skating.  I admire the sheer bravery of the sliding athletes (bobsled, luge and skeleton).   The stunts in Freestyle skiing and half pipe snowboarding are astonishing.

It’s great to see the best athletes in the world compete and win.   And, I always feel a little bad for the silver medalist.  To paraphrase Jerry Seinfeld, “You’re the best of the losers.  Nobody lost better than you.”  Sure, it’s funny.  But it’s true.

These kids work, train, and give up their lives to achieve their dreams of Olympic glory. And then to miss the gold medal by 1/100 of a second must be heartbreaking.

While they make the medal stand and glad to be there, part of them has be a little sad at coming up second best.

That’s a feeling I know all too well, Gentle Reader.

And I hate it.

I have had a few stark reminders the last couple weeks that I am, for some reason, always second best when it comes to men.

I waited in vain for Robert to propose. I settled for being Peter’s dirty little secret…. not just last year but when we first dated in 1989.   Troy had other plans and things that were more important than me. I fucked a married guy and allowed him to walk away scot-free. And I now find myself in a sexual relationship with a man while I continue looking for my Mr. Darcy.

I’m not sure why men never see me as the prize.  I’m intelligent, funny, not unattractive, loving, loyal, passionate and caring.   I’m a great cook, and not afraid to use power tools or change a tire. I don’t need a man to complete me…but I do want one to complement me.

I am a happier and more stable person than I was this time a year ago, but I know the chances of finding love, at my age, are slim.

Why do men ALWAYS see me as the back up girl…the bridesmaid…the silver medalist?

Is it because I see myself as second best; not worthy of being a man’s first choice?

That’s a thought that’s going to fester, Gentle Readers.

I’m tired of coming in second.

I want that gold medal.