20 years

Sounds like a long time right? That’s a bit less than half of my life. I spent the first 20 figuring out how to be an adult, a functional adult, that is. I spent the second half adulting, trying to live the life I thought I should have and making a ton of mistakes along the way that I have learned from. I also have my mother who has done her best to show me first hand what I do not want out of life.

So hear I am, a daily practice of staying in the moment, so I don’t miss the really good stuff. This needs to be balance with a need, a must have to plan for my future.

I like to tell people at work my outlandish retirement plans. To have a vineyard, a baby goat farm and yoga studio. I just found out there’s a vineyard on a roof top near by. I say I’m moving to Montreal, or opening up a brothel with a friend. She has an equally Irish last name and it’s really catchy. This week I combined them and said we will by a warehouse, a vineyard on the roof, with a goat farm, the next lower floor a yoga studio, under that a place for wine tasting and yummy goat cheese, in the basement the brothel. On the floors in the middle a boutique b and b. Hell, I’ve even gotten three people in on this scheme with me.

This is not the real plan, I talk a lot of shit when I’m stress.

The truth, I’m hitting middle age, most of the people I’ve known are watching their kids in high school or going off to college. They are on second marriages. They have issues, but they have  a path.

I don’t.

So the person I am, I’m going to make one. I said I was a year in without knowing. So I’m setting benchmarks. At 45, I will have good credit again, I will save all of the money the last raise gives me and continue to put into my supplemental retirement. I will purchase a co-op near here with a view of the city. Please Sir, no village lecture, read on, this works. I’ll do a 15 year mortgage, then by 60, I’m done. All I have is the maintence and if my neighborhood gets gentrified, I sell and get the hell out of here with at least double in my pocket.

I do the smart thing and wait until 45 and file for divorce, since we all know he will never bring the paper work back that has already been signed. This assures he has no right to my property. I will stay in this apartment until that time. Finally throwing the paint up and making it home.

So the first cross road I reach is in 20 years. I reflect and then decide. If I am at the same or even better physical state, I teach yoga here and become crazy lady, minus the accent. If I move, maybe open a studio in my house. I’ll have options and money, so it works.

This is the point I take this virtual conversation off-line to sir.

First a side note- or two-

You like to refer to the old me. The girl you first met. Do you know I wasn’t always like that? Did you ever think, I wonder what she was like before a failed marriage, losing her house, losing her multiple pregnancies, having a failed D/s relationship that almost ended in hospitalization?

I’m really sorry you met me at rock bottom, but that’s what that was. The real old me was strong and had goals. I took life by the balls and had fun.

You build me back up (quicker than I would have on my own)and for that I thank you, but that wasn’t old me, I’m just me, up or down, this is who I am. In time I would have recovered, I always do.



2 thoughts on “20 years”

  1. I can truly relate to you. And you are right…in time you would have recovered. Because you always do. (Such a powerful statement…it really resonates with me)
    I’ve spent a big part of my life treading the same water. I love your ideas…let me in on the brothel plan. I have quite a bit of experience there, you know? Lol

    Liked by 1 person

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