I am a much better communicator when I write than when I talk.

This might surprise some people who know me, because off and on over my lifetime I have been accused of being a chatterbox.

I am much more comfortable writing than talking; whether it is talking in person or on the phone, most of the time I find myself wishing that I had the option to just put it down in writing. I’d much rather chat on IM or text than pick up a phone and call someone. I’d rather write a letter than converse on the phone… I find talking about “serious” matters fairly difficult out loud…

Other than 2 message/emails on Facebook Reg has never emailed…

The best part of my day used to be the 20 seconds in the morning where I would be smiling because someone cared enough to text me and let me know that they still cared… even when they were far away from me all week.

 Now that time is more often anxiety related than joyful. More often lately I am let down instead of buoyed up.

I find that the days he cares enough to text me in the morning I feel happier and more satisfied by our relationship. The days he doesn’t care enough to do it I see myself wondering if the relationship is going south again…

This one thing was (is?) the best signal of the health…

I have been feeling pretty bad lately… I haven’t been making the time to write and I have been feeling rushed and confined by a lot of the duties of my daily life. While I realize that my life is what I make of it and that if I want to change it I am the only one who can do so, a lot of things are getting in my way right now and that’s a bit frustrating. Between caring for The Man while he’s been sick (for going on SIX weeks now) with his various colds and things, work, family, home improvements, activities, and other social expectations it often seems like at the end of the day/week/month I’m running…

All around me things are shedding – my cats are in a constant state of sheddy-goodness, the trees have released their leaves to the ground (and the roofs, the bottom of boots, the street… and pretty much everywhere else), and the fields have yielded whatever harvest will be eked out from this summer’s dismal bounty.

As Samhain approaches I become more and more conscious of the wanting to let go, to leave things behind in this year and step through the veil into the new year.

So what do I wish to shed?

I wish to shed the desire for perfection. I realize that this is one of my “all or nothing” views that I have been oh-so-slowly and painfully…

I have been struggling to find a new blog title/domain name that better describes where I am going right now that I am no longer in the winter-styled, loneliness that was my life when I started Frozen Nowhere…

THEN: I was a 33 year old woman who had done the seemingly impossible by walking out of an almost 10-year marriage with an “upwardly mobile” engineer. I was living in a tiny town in the middle-north of Saskatchewan, sleeping on my parent’s basement couch. I was practically broke, because the husband that everyone thought was SO wonderful had decided to try and break me by not paying child support while spending as fast and furiously on our joint accounts as he…