For Tjparis French Friday love quotes. Some lyrics from J’ai dit oui. It is from the French musical Robin des Bois sung by Caroline Costa.
Category: Uncategorized
Wildflower Wednesday
This is for tjparis at La vie est trop courte pour boire mauvais vin.
I received these lovely flowers today from a friend for my birthday.
A Map as my Muse
Start in Kingsville, Texas on a long ago October 1st
Then 18 months later move to Oklahoma City to be near your mother’s family.
Then a couple months after you turn 8, move to an entirely different place and suffer culture shock in the Twin Cities of Minnesota.
Learn to speak with a new accent and use different slang, learn to love snow but you stay there for a short time and when you are 11 and finally fit in, you move to Denver,CO.
While you live there you go to 5 schools in 3 years and live a middle class life right smack in the center of the wealthy. It’s the first time you understand that some people have opportunities you’ll never have. You really never get settled. Then halfway through 9th grade at the age of 14 you move further west to Las Vegas, NV.
Now the above photo doesn’t represent what Las Vegas looked like when I moved there. It was a town of just 300,000 and not 2 million. You live a fairly normal life despite what people had predicted. You learn The Strip is the adult equivalent of Walt Disney World and if you lived in Orlando you wouldn’t go every weekend. You live here 8.5 years, go to high school, graduate college and then marry a man you barely know because you feel in your heart this will never be home. So you marry and move to Cedar Falls/Waterloo, IA.
You are surprised that you suffer from homesickness since Las Vegas never really felt like home. You have culture shock again. You adjust to the sub-zero temperatures after having lived in the desert. You’re disappointed that your new husband is totally so self-focused he doesn’t hear the sadness in your voice. You wonder if you made a mistake but you won’t admit it or accept failure. Then you get a job, get pregnant, and five days after you have your baby you move to Davenport, IA for your husband’s new job.
It’s known as the quad cities because two Iowa cities meet two Illinois cities at the shore of the grand Mississippi River. You know no one. Your husband travels and then leaves and goes to Texas for a new job a mere 8 months later. Alone you pack up and drive with your 11 month old to Irving, TX.
You remember the awe you felt when you saw the Cowboy stadium. You remember the hope you had in your heart that here your husband would be more in tune with you and connect on a deeper emotional level. 1 year later you buy your first home in Lewisville, TX. Then 5 years later you buyer a bigger home for your expanded family of 4.
Again your heart is full of hope that now things will change. Life is full with love for your children, your friends but there is still a misconnect with your husband. You ignore the signs. You try to fix it. And you wonder where it is that you belong. Are you a misfit like your husband seems to believe? Is there a place for you? Would your husband ever love only you and be faithful? You are here for 28 years and build a life then your husband’s secrets become too much to bear and he leaves you. He doesn’t want to change or stop drinking or give up erotic massage parlors and prostitutes and porn and peeping tom activities. He finds a younger woman and pretends that his family doesn’t exist. Your daughters are grown. You are left alone and forced to start again. But where do you go? Where do you belong? You go to Austin, TX with no idea if this is the place but you try to find the hope for happiness that was lost so long ago.
Will Austin be the bridge to my future? Is there happiness on the other side? I don’t know. I’m still on the journey.
Confirmation
If I needed any confirmation that age discrimination is happening, I got it today. I’ve been searching for three long years for a job, any kind of job. I’ve applied to be an apartment leasing agent multiple times and never even got an interview. I’m definitely qualified.
So I walk into my apartment complex office today and I see a new face, a very young pretty face. She didn’t even know how to take care of my request!! I can’t do anything about my age. I’m two days away from my 56th birthday and this totally sucks. How am I supposed to move on from my old life when NO ONE will take a chance on me and give me a job?
Why don’t I listen?
Our assignment in writing 101 was to look back at our posts and stats. Clearly the letter I wrote to myself was the most popular. As I reread the post I am slapped in the face with an ugly fact, as good as the advice is, I don’t take it. I need it. I definitely need to take my own advice but I am fighting an internal war.
Little battles are raging and I can’t seem to find the energy and focus I need to not only win a few battles but to ultimately win the war. I have to completely rethink who I am and what my life meant and what it will mean. It’s like I have spent 30 years looking into a warped mirror so the reflection I saw wasn’t the real me. It was the warped image controlled by my ex-husband that I saw. I saw only what the narcissist wanted me to see.
Now it’s imprinted on my brain. All those warped messages are carved deeply into the recesses of my mind. Can the damage be undone? I am not sure. Websites about narcissistic abuse have helped but finding a counselor that understand the seriousness of the damage done by a narcissist isn’t easy. I only have health insurance through the end of the year so if I don’t find someone soon that can help me see my reflection as it truly is, I have no idea what I will do.
So fellow bloggers, keep me in your prayers. I haven’t found a job and I am weary of the search. I am weary period.
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One Day a Decision
The air was still heavy with humidity. 10:30 pm and the temperature was still hovering around 98 degrees. I had decided to walk the short distance because I was confident it would be much cooler by now. Seriously it was October 1st and it felt like the middle of summer. My heels were killing me. I wanted to take them off, but without street lights my fear of stepping on something disgusting kept them on.
I didn’t need an alarm clock, not once I had children. Prior to that time, an alarm clock was a necessity. Now that the girls were in school, my own body clock woke me everyday without fail around 6:30 am. The sun wasn’t quite up yet. We still had another month before we moved the clocks an hour backwards. The darker sky always made rising a little more difficult. My husband snored soundly next to me. Getting up with the girls wasn’t something he ever did and I had given up trying. I made my way upstairs, carefully kissed each of my sweet daughters, rubbing their backs and instructing them to get up for school. They never complained, not yet any way.
I took my time walking. The cooler temperatures indoors should have made me pick up my pace, but I couldn’t face home yet. Having just spent several hours in the company of eleven other women made me question my judgement. This happened every month, every first Wednesday. It had happened for the past ten years, ever since we started meeting. The sighing came naturally and without much thought. I was just happy to be alone so no one could question my mood. Somehow I always managed to stay lighthearted on these nights. Even after all of these years, no one had ever looked beyond the surface to see the unhappiness behind the eyes.
Breakfast was always a quiet time at our home. I read the paper, the girls ate and it wasn’t until they were finished any of us were awake enough to talk. Quickly upstairs to finish getting ready for school, I cleaned up the kitchen while they finished. I had already been up an hour and my husband, their dad was still in bed. I had stopped resenting his lack of help in the morning and had begun to cherish my time alone with the girls. There was something almost sacred about those morning hours. There hadn’t been a chance to muddy the day with worries or responsibilities that at times felt overwhelming as I faced them alone. We lived close to the school, but it was my joy to walk them through the park, over the creek bridge and through the small grove of trees that separated us from the school. A quick kiss and hug, and they headed off for the last of the walk alone.
However, I had hoped someone would remember, but no. The evening transpired like always. We chatted, got ourselves a beverage and took our places at one of the three tables. The night was punctuated with yells of delight as someone had rolled three sixes, a bunco. When had first gathered to play this silly game of bunco, we focused on the game and seemed to complete many rounds. If we won, we moved to the next table, losers stayed. But as the years passed, we played fewer games and spent the majority of the evening talking. My feet wouldn’t make it much further in these heels. I needed to pick up my pace if possible. I was surprised to find myself filled with disappointment. I was almost 40 years old, much too mature to be disappointed over something so childish. However, I had hoped someone would remember, but no.
My husband was waiting for me when I came back from dropping the girls off at school. He was waiting for me to make him breakfast. He wasn’t much of a talker and while he read the paper religiously, he never really expressed any opinion about the world, national or even local politics. He announced he had made plans to meet friends that day. They were going to have lunch and go look at the newest boats. As a pilot he was often off during the week and this enabled him to meet his fellow pilot friends. He never asked me what my plans were for the day. He never did. I swear I could feel the crack in my heart grow. My day was spent at home with the typical responsibilities you’d expect a full-time mother and wife to have.
Turning the corner I could see my house. My shirt was now dampened all down my back and clung between my breasts. I made the last of the walk without my shoes. The pain finally over ruled my fear of stepping into something I’d regret. I couldn’t bring myself to go inside, not yet. I sat on the bench in our yard and looked at the sky. It was cloudy so the stars weren’t visible and it made for a darker night. Was that a message? The darkness of the night? I couldn’t see a point of light anywhere. I could feel the tears begin and I fought with all I had to hold them in, but to no avail. I sat on that bench as it neared 11 pm that Wednesday night. Crying for what I had didn’t have and crying for the blessing I did have.
After school was filled with homework, snacks and dinner. The girls talked animatedly about their day. I never failed to ask the same two questions. What was the most interesting or unusual thing you learned today. And what was the silliest thing you learned or did today. Those questions always managed to bring forth a fount of information. I had learned early on the simple how was school, never elicited more than a blank yes or no. The three of us had a lively conversation and after dinner I waited, but nothing. My husband left the table, grabbed a beer and headed upstairs to his home theater. The girls were old enough I didn’t need to leave written instructions for my husband but I did it anyway.
Now sitting on the bench, I realized I had to make a decision. Would I continue to live a life that on the surface looked wonderful but underneath was empty and lacking in love? My gut said it was time to go, to leave. My heart said I was being silly to be upset over something so childish. My head argued back that this was not a one time oversight. This happened year after year and it was a sign of something deeper. Just like the darkened, starless night was speaking to me and telling me there would be no light in my life as long as I stayed. My heart spoke back reminding me of my beautiful children, comfortable life and the promise I had made all those years ago. My heart said I was being superficial. My head said it was just another strong message of how little I was valued. All I knew, was at that moment I couldn’t make any decision. All I could do was pick up my shoes, unlock the door and head upstairs for a quick shower. I would consider everything tomorrow in the light of the day. I would reexamine my life but not today, not on my birthday.
Living with Crazy makes you Crazy
I lived in the Dallas-Fort Worth area for 30 years. My life was built there. It is where we bought our first home, had our second child, made friends and enjoyed the fruits of our labor. I stayed home and took care of our daughters, our life and my husband when he was home. I was so proud and grateful for all his hard work. But time and time again, a terrible secret would be revealed about my now ex-husband. I convinced myself over and over that all men used porn. He told me all the pilots went to strip clubs and I needed to understand. I learned he had cheated on me with flight attendants but he convinced me that it was my fault. Then the phone call came from the police detective. Turns out all those trips to the hardware store, were actually trips to spy on girls at an apartment swimming pool and masturbate at the same time. He was a peeping tom! Of course you say, she definitely left now. Sad to say, I didn’t. He convinced me he would get help and he also said it was my fault. If I hadn’t married him when he was so young, (24) he wouldn’t feel like he had missed out on all the available sex.
Time and time again, I’d find porn and it escalated. I found rape porn. I threatened to leave but here is a piece of advice, do not make a threat if you don’t intend to follow through with it. Again he agreed to go to counseling but it didn’t last long. His drinking increased, more strip clubs and our relationship slowly deteriorated. After one full year of counseling with a pastor/counselor, he confessed to using prostitutes at erotic massage parlors. Now hold onto your hat for this one ladies and gentlemen; it wasn’t real sex because he only paid for hand jobs. Did I leave? No. By now I was fully buried and not able to make a sound decision. He had eroded away any sense of value I had. We spent $7,000 going to The Meadows Clinic in Wickenburg, AZ. He never did any of the things they told him to do to get better.We ended up living separate lives but in the same house for two years. I know I should have left him countless times, but I loved him and hoped to work it out.
Now for those of you who have never lived with a narcissist, you will never be able to understand. But imagine standing on a sandy beach and slowly over time the sand begins to sink. It happens so slowly, you don’t even realize it is happening. You are busy enjoying the sunset. You are busy watching the waves. You are busy thinking about the life you have. And then one day you realize that you’ve been buried alive underneath the sand that has slowly been eroding away. That is life with a narcissist. If you go to Living with a Narcissist or Life with a Narcissistic Psychopath you can find more information. It will help explain why I didn’t leave. Why I waited for him to leave me.
After the divorce I spiraled out of control. I had written my life story and the chapters I saw in my future included my ex-husband, our daughters and their future families, travel, our friends and a secure life. When he left, he didn’t look back. It was as though our daughters and I never existed. At the age of 54, he walked away from 30 years of marriage and a life we had built. And I am not exaggerating. He lied to me and took $3000 of the $9000 cash I got in the divorce settlement. Our daughter had to try to explain to him that he had lied about needing the money. He never got it. Our daughters and son-in-law met with him and told him they would be there and stand by his side as he got help. But he never, even to this day has admitted he has any problems. Classic narcissistic behavior, he has no empathy for others, nor can he ever see or accept that he might have a problem. Sadly our daughters have fully cut him out of their lives.
I did lose it for a while. I spiraled downward as he went right into a new relationship with a much younger woman. I stalked him. I harassed him. It is not something I am proud of but after you have lived with someone whose goal is to slowly drive you crazy, it can’t be surprising to end up crazy. I got myself together and left the country for 3 months. When I came back, I was still sad but no longer a crazy lady.
Why am I telling you all of this? Because if you are unhappy and feel bad about yourself, if you feel like you walk on eggshells in your relationship then start reading the articles on those links. Don’t let a someone steal years of your life from you and then discard you like a piece of trash without batting an eye. You don’t want to end up where I am. I am almost 56, unemployed, living in a new city with no friends and worry things won’t change. That is why I am blogging. I am hoping it helps me begin to rewrite this new chapter of my life in a positive and good way.
If we were walking in the garden. . .
If we were walking in the garden, I would tell you how good it feels to have company, to not be alone for another 24 hours.
If we were walking in the garden, I would bring you up-to-date on my job search. You would learn I received another rejection with the same lame excuse. We have decided to move forward with another candidate. When I ask for specific suggestions, they give no feedback. I listened to NPR the other day and the entire broadcast on my way home was about the fact age discrimination is real and active in the job market. So where does that leave me at almost 56?
If we were walking in the garden, I would ask for a hug because now that 
I no longer live with my daughter or near my other daughter, I am completely hug deprived. I always told my girls you needed 10 hugs a day to be happy and healthy,
If we were walking in the garden, I would be quiet. I would listen for birds. I would listen to the waterfall. I would take in all the sounds and allow them to quiet my spirit.
If we were walking in the garden, I’d ask if money was no object what 
would you do and where would you go? I would listen to your dreams and encourage you to follow them.
If we were walking in the garden, I would thank you for taking some of your day to spend with me because we know we make time for what we feel is important. If your friends aren’t spending time with you, contacting you or remembering you even in a small way, you know your friendship is not important to them.
If we were walking in the garden, I would ask would you like to take a walk again on another day>
Speaking up or Fitting in?
I made a comment on another book review blog. Bookowly The blogger had reviewed a graphic novel that she had difficulty deciding if it was written for older teens or younger kids. She didn’t like the book despite all sorts of positive reviews on other sites. I responded that reviews are so misleading. I believe too many people are afraid to speak up and say they don’t like a book or movie if most of the reviews are positive. I have read too many bad books and seen too many bad movies after reading a host of views singing their praises.
Why are we so afraid to speak up and go against the grain? We live in a society where individualism is preached yet when it comes time to be an individual, people shy away. We do it all the time in all the aspects of our lives. We think as individuals but tend too many times to act as a group. When was the last time you disagreed with a group of friends? Not a one on one basis, but in a group?
I remember being with a group of women in my age group and they were discussing Hooters. Not a single woman had anything positive to say about the young women that worked there. They were busy passing judgment and talked as they knew these young women’s life situations. Now Hooters isn’t my choice of restaurants but I spoke up. I said that they were doing nothing illegal and didn’t we all trade on our looks from time to time in our lives? They berated me because the girls are so sexual. I can assure you that there was only one woman (devout Mormon) in our group who hadn’t at some time worn short shorts, tank tops and more sexual clothing when we were young. I stood my ground. I said they were judging young women who were doing the best they knew how to make a living. Maybe they were supporting a family, paying for school etc. We didn’t know. And if they didn’t like “breastraunts” then they should take action and create other opportunities for young women.
I created some enemies that evening. And it wasn’t too many years after that evening our group broke up. We had met the first Wednesday of the month for 13 years and it had taken me that long to realize I didn’t want to be in that mindset of women. So stop and think. Ask yourself if you always go along with the group, the majority opinion or do you really speak up for yourself.
The Need to Vent
Excuse me but I need to vent. I have been seeking a job for the past 3 years. It is necessary that I support myself since my ex-husband left me after 30 years of marriage for a younger woman. There is no spousal support or alimony in Texas. I am almost out of money. And if you think I am trying for jobs out of my reach, I am not. I can’t even get Target to interview me.
There is definitely age discrimination. I realize I haven’t been in the active workforce for years but I have lots of skills. I went back to school to update my computer skills. I have a college degree. I am personable and friendly. I don’t know what to do. I just read a really bad eBook, so maybe I should give that a go. No one can discriminate against my age or experience then. Sorry for venting. I am just afraid.
“There’s such a lot of different Annes in me”
“There’s such a lot of different Annes in me. I sometimes think that is why I’m such a troublesome person. If I was just the one Anne it would be ever so much more comfortable, but then it wouldn’t be half so interesting.”
― L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables
The quote on my homepage is a L.M. Montgomery quote from Anne of Green Gables. I always identified so much with Anne. While I was not an orphan, I never did feel that I quite fit in anywhere. My own mother has told me all of my life that I was difficult when I was young, she didn’t know what to do. So she had to take me to see a psychologist. Now I don’t know what could possibly make a 5-year-old so difficult, her mother would feel the need to take her to a psychologist and the need to remind her over and over again.
Anne always had trouble holding her tongue. She would speak without thinking and it would get her in trouble. She also had a way with words and many times could talk herself out of a situation. She loved to write. She loved Octobers. She loved reading and loved learning. Sometimes I think if I had red hair, I would change my name to Anne (with an e) Shirley.
I think most of us aren’t monotone and one dimensional people. We are multi-colored and three-dimensional. There are facets to our personalities that shine under different circumstances. And sometimes those facets need a lot of polishing before they truly shine.
Long lasting effects of Abuse
The blogging assignment today was to add a widget, change your header etc. In some way we were to personalize our blog. I changed my header. It doesn’t show as much as I’d like but I could not get it sized right, so I posted it above. It is a photo I took several years ago in Paris. It is still one of my favorite pictures. I still find it difficult to believe that I had to beg my ex-husband to meet his French aunt and American uncle in the south of France. It took me several years to convince him to go. Now he flies the 777 internationally and goes to Paris all the time. I will admit it is a thorn in my side. He always wanted to go only to beaches or lakes. I was the one that wanted to explore the world. Now he is the world explorer and I am left to struggle to make ends meet.
I have promised myself I will not make this blog just a b*tich fest. I did suffer from narcissistic abuse (30 years) and it has very long-lasting effects. Narcissistic Abuse Syndrome If you are depressed, unhappy, have low self-esteem etc and can’t really figure out why, I suggest you follow the link and read. I’ve been through countless counselors seeking help. Now that I know what the problem is, I am hoping this new counselor will actually help me get better.
From this point forward I will share happier thoughts and ideas on how I try to actively explore the world around me even if it’s just a few miles away.
Where do I write
I write mostly on my laptop in my living area. I live alone, so no one bothers me unless you include my cat, Finn. I also keep various journals for different things. I use one for doodling even if I can’t draw well. If I am out and something hits and I realize I want to write, I use my iPhone. I’d love to be a writer but right now I lack the discipline of a real writer. Why I think writing is a waste of time, but watching TV is not, I have no idea. Maybe doing this daily WordPress writing exercise, will help me develop the discipline I need. The assignment also said we were to include a poll, so I hope I did it correctly.
Tweet Response
I have no idea if I added the twitter link correctly, so I copied and pasted the actual tweet into my blog. I went to a meetup group tonight. If you don’t know what a meetup group is you can find out by going to http://www.meetup.com It is a place where you can find people in your area with similar interests. There is a wide variety of choices, so there is something for everyone. I went to a writing prompt group. There were just 3 of us which made it much less intimidating for a first time visitor.
The group leader gave us our first prompt. He used story dice. I got an eyeball and a man thinking. The tweet above was definitely true for me tonight. How do you begin a story based on an eyeball and a man thinking? Each of us got different things. I definitely had the worst roll. From where would the words come? Should I even be there? Could I really write something someone would want to read?
As I watched the other people write when we began our second prompt, lines from a song, I was amazed at how quickly they could put their words to paper. And then when they read them, they were so good, so creative. My story sounded like something an 8th grader would turn in for a creative writing project. Would my writing every mature?
Our last prompt was a collage of photos. We could write something in general about all of the photos in our collage or we could select just one photo. I wrote about one photo and when the young woman next to me read her story, I was blown away. She had chosen to focus on the fact almost all of her photos had blue in them. Where do people get such creative ideas?
So I agree with the tweet. It seems that writing comes so easily for other authors. Their stories, their blogs, their books all seem effortless. My stuff reads heavy, like a bag of trash someone has to drag behind them. When will the words mature and the story come?
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New Theme
I tried several themes, all free. I have paid for a theme in the past and then abandoned my blog. I don’t mind paying but want to make sure that I am not going to abandon my blog this time. The most difficult thing for me is to get my own photos sized correctly so they look right in the header. I have another photo I’d prefer to use but can’t see to get it just right.
Only One Way?
Maps. Directions. Roads. Lost. GPS, yes, GPS. Living in a new city my GPS has become my new best friend. I have never had a good sense of direction. When I was 14 years old, my family was driving from our home in Las Vegas to Disneyland. With my map reading skills, we ended up outside of San Diego. That is NOT close to Disneyland.
One of the first things I did when I moved to Austin was to buy a map. It is large and I stand and look at it, trying to get an idea of where I am located in reference to where I am going. Studying the map, I determine there are endless ways to reach my destination. When I plug-in the address to my GPS, it even gives me options. It is up to me to decide which route to take.
Of course our route can be interrupted by road work, an accident, one way streets etc. So we are forced to find another way to our final destination. GPS of course makes it simple. But when there were only maps ,no GPS, and I would get lost, I had to pull over to the side of the road and study the map to find a new route.
That is my life right now. I am pulled over to the side of the road studying it and trying to find a new path, a new direction to reach my destination. What is my destination? A life with purpose and lived with passion. Prior to my divorce, I was on a one way road and believed the life I was living was the only way to experience happiness. Since my divorce, I have slowly discovered that there are endless paths to living a new purposeful life. Just like when the GPS gives me a choice of routes, it is up to me to select which road I will take now because joy, purpose and passion lie just around the bend.
Exploring Life 101
Blogging 101 assignment: Identify my audience. Hmm, even though I’ve had blogs before, I have never considered the possibility I would actually have an audience. So this is an intriguing assignment. We were told to add media, try new styles etc to keep the reader interested. So I thought maybe learning a little more about me and where I am going with my life might help me connect with similar bloggers and people.
Me now and me a million years ago.
There are several things I typically tell people about myself when asked for the most unique or unusual thing about my life. I was on a national pageant representing Nevada. I was on a national TV game show. I was interviewed for the CBS evening news with Dan Rather. Those facts typically create quite a few questions. If you are interested in any of it, leave a question in the comment section of my blog.
At the age of 40, I spent a week trying to improve my French in Roanne, France. It was beautiful and fun, but my language skills were still poor. Then at age 54, nine months after my divorce, I went to Tours, France. I spent 3 months doing my best to improve my French. Again it was a lovely time, but I have come to the conclusion my French speaking skills aren’t going to progress past advance beginner. Below are photos from my time in Tours. Yes that is a photo of a snake. I found it in my bathroom. Again if you want more information, leave a question in the comments.
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I have lived in several states, but have spent the past 30.5 years living in Texas with 30 of those being in the Dallas-Fort Worth area. I moved to Austin in June to try to find a new life path. Austin is completely 180 degrees different than Dallas. It is down to earth, eco-friendly, creative and hilly with lots of trees. Dallas is flat, superficial, (who has the biggest house, diamond, boobs etc), not eco-friendly and has just recently become friendlier to the creative arts.
I have no idea what the future holds. I have been unemployed for over 2 years now and just learned I didn’t get the job I wanted. So I am still seeking a new purpose. I am no longer someone’s wife. And while I am still the mother of 2 incredible young women, they have successfully gone on to live their own lives. Purpose. I think that is what most of us want. We just want to have a purpose and be loved. It doesn’t matter whether it’s here or halfway around the world in some remote village, we all seek those things.
I have no idea who my audience might be. I am hoping people who are want to explore life either on a new path or an old path will be my blog followers.
Uncertainty -writing 101
One word prompt: Uncertainty
Plans made. Plans lost. Plans revised. Plans denied. Dreams made. Dreams lost. Dreams revised. Dreams denied. Love made. Love lost. Love revised. Love denied. Trust made. Trust lost. Trust revised. Trust denied.
Fear slowly creeps across my path like poison ivy. It is entangling me and choking me and killing me. Uncertainty is an unwelcomed guest.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Young and the Rested.”
I have sat here pondering the daily prompt and I am ashamed to say I can’t remember the last time I felt rejuvenated. It is not for lack of trying. After a heartbreaking divorce, I spent three months in France at a language school. It is something I had wanted to do since college. (I am 55). And as much as I loved being there, it didn’t give me the new outlook for which I have been searching. I moved to a new city with a completely different vibe three months ago thinking new place would mean new energy. Again nothing. Maybe It’s just not in the cards for me to find a rejuvenated life.
My life on an unexpected path 
