When Something Isn't Right

Lately I've been feeling discontent. I couldn't pinpoint what exactly my discontent was about. Yes there are the job issues, the unknown, but part of me has expected that. M keeps saying I am running from something, by keeping myself too busy. Lauren and I talked about a similar state for a shared friend, running from the unknown. Recently, I've found myself unhappy, slowly I started to return to my trust worthy friend, food. I ate taco bell. Sober. If it sounded good, it went into my mouth. Alison described it perfectly, feeling like a stuffed sausage in its casing. My new slim clothes were feeling tight. I tried to put on my freshly washed skinny jeans, nope, not unless I lied down were they closing. I got pissed. How did I let this happen. 10lbs. From my low weight. Not acceptable.

Friday I had the honor of being a guest at S's cottage. Immediately when I walked in and gave myself the grand tour, I pin-pointed one of the problems. Motel 6. I found myself envisioning what it would be like to live in one of the cottages. Flowers adorning the front yard. I could grow herbs. A real fireplace the centerpiece of the small yet homey living room. I watched as she cooked us a delicious homemade meal, her kitchen filled with recipes and the ingredients for meals. I could envision the same thing. I never said I loved my apartment. Yes, I like my location. Not my home. I am never here. I am ghost in my own surroundings. Love living alone yes, however this apartment is not me. I knew that from the beginning, I could afford it and I was rushed. Now its time to start looking, find something that is me. I've only been here a few months, but the answer is crystal clear. I never cook nor entertain. Tonight as part of my efforts to start eating healthy again, I made a simple green salad with some Uli's chicken sausage. Super easy. As I chopped the garlic for my dressing, I couldn't remember the last time I had done this, months ago. Literally. My favorite knife rests in the drawer collecting dust. Instead I eat sweet potato fries and chicken nuggets. When was the last time I baked, months, I think once. I want to start cooking again. I enjoy cooking. Today as I wandered the Ballard farmers market I thought of all the delicious meals I could make- fresh summer greens, tiny creamy potatoes, glorious summer fruits begging to be turned into a crisp and local free range meats/fish. However I hate cooking for one.

Being alone is something I struggle with. After volunteering on Saturday none of my plans for the weekend turned out. I found myself lying in bed watching Weeds. I was bored. I didn't know what to do with myself. All of this time at home. Sent a few texts, people were busy or didn't want to go out. Realizing this morning that I had the day to myself, it was sunny and beautiful, I needed to exert some inertia. I have company coming in less than a week. The apartment needs cleaning, there is laundry to be done. I started the laundry got dressed and decided to wander around Ballard alone for the afternoon. Bought myself some fresh sweet red raspberries (my absolute favorite), pizza at Veraci, then Stumptown coffee and a mini cupcake at Royale (conscious decisions). Went into a few shops. My phone rang but I didn't answer, this is me time. After hitting 24th I wasn't quite ready to go home, it was still sunny out so I kept going on Market. Weaved my way back home, quietly enjoying the sunny day. I need more days with this. Often the hour alone feels like eternity. Learning to make my days that I have off from the slew of social activities mine is always going to be a challenge. A night home, I forget what that means.

Single. No plus one. We spend some much time and effort looking for the one. I'm thinking about eharmony. It's going to be a process. Why not give online dating a chance again. I'm missing that someone in my life. As I watched couples plan meals picking out bunches of greens, smelling the ripe tomatoes, I yearned to do the same thing. I was relishing my walk alone, but I quietly envisioned my own farmers market story. We'd wake up, have morning sex (I'm not a morning person and I love it), read the NY Times over freshly brewed coffee then finally walk to the farmers market to buy our local ingredients for the week with our re-usable bags then wander home, maybe entertain friends in our 1920's craftsman later that night ending the weekend with a delicious homemade meal and good wine. My snow globe fairy tale with such intricate details. Fast forward a few years, add a baby. I'm ready to nest. My discontent lays deep within. I'm not going back to where I was a year go or even two. As Sherrie says when I put my mind to something I do it. Well its back to the gym/trying running (its nice out why not) and working on my nesting (home & men).