It has officially been Way Too Long since I’ve posted. I apologize for that, but I’ve just been in a place. Yes. A place. A place from which it was nearly impossible to escape, even for just the few minutes it takes to share a thought here. A place where I’ve been loathing my stressful job so much that I’ve made myself ill. A place where I’ve mourned my miscarriage long enough that I’m finally ready to try again (interesting timing given the fact that Jason and I are just about to hang up our galoshes and move out of this rainy, rainhole – more on that later). A place where I’ve hated my husband and our life together and contemplated throwing away our relationship and moving back to Utah to live out my life as a lonesome spinster (a fantasy I’ve realized has nothing to do with him and everything to do with My Fears – more on that later).

But. Here I am. Apparently back from that horrid place and ready to share again. This is the week where I can give notice if I want. I told myself I’d wait until somewhere between 6 and 8 weeks before the move and here we are at that time (ohmygod). Really. We probably won’t move until close to the end of October, but I really need to be done with this place, this job, these responsibilities, this job-sized burden sitting upon my shoulders  so I’m shooting for October 15th as a last day. Meaning, yeah. It’s time to have the dreaded conversation. In my head I picture my boss being either so angry she can’t speak or so shocked and horrified that she bursts into tears. Either of these scenarios are equally ridiculous and neither of these scenarios are at all realistic. So anyway. I’m thinking maybe tomorrow. Or Friday. Or next week. Can you tell I’m dreading the whole thing?

So yeah. I had a miscarriage. You can read about it here. It took me a while to not be angry and sad about it. Mostly angry. Really. For three months I was off kids. Period. Wasn’t gonna have ’em, was just going to go back to school, get a kick ass job, makes lots of money and travel. Or something like that. But then the clouds parted, somebody brought their baby to work, somebody else had a baby in the grocery store (by which I mean was lugging a kid around while doing their shopping, not giving birth in the produce section) and baby fever is officially back. Bad. Like, despite the fact that I’m going to quit my job and move to a different state not knowing when I’ll have steady income and health insurance I was still a little sad when My Monthly Pal showed up today. I’m trying hard to convince myself to wait just a few more months. That loud ticking noise you hear? It’s my biological clock. It stops for no man. It throws all logical and reasoning out the window.

My husband. I love him. Despite the fact that sometimes I hate him. Oddly enough, I don’t think it’s ever him that I hate. I think sometimes I hate that I’m not a miserable, lonely person living by herself and complaining about everything. I realize that you as a regular person, without the Ormond gene for lonerdom (yeah yeah, not a real word)  reading this probably can’t make sense out of that last bit. I know. But it’s true. Sometimes the simple act of being in a relationship is too hard for me. Too painful. Like, living, loving, making joint decisions, compromising – it all becomes too much and I just want to say fuck you, fuck your family, fuck marriage vows, I’m out of here. And I always want to move back to Utah, something I’ve come to discover is probably less of an actual desire and more of a security blanket. The closer we get to moving to an entirely foreign place the more I rebel, freak out and want to move back to somewhere I grew up, somewhere my family still lives, somewhere I know like the back of my hand. I’m a big fan of security. Quitting your job, moving to a new city, finding your way around, finding a new job – these things are all the complete opposite of security. Really.  So I’m scared. And acting out.

But anyway – I’m coping. I’m realizing what all of these things are and letting myself feel them. Feel them, but not act on them. Because usually the things that are scariest in the middle of the night when everything is quiet and dark aren’t so scary on the other side of the dawn. And I woke up this weekend realizing that as secure as I feel in my life right now, I really don’t like it. I really don’t want to live in Portland anymore. I really don’t want this job anymore. And why stay and be miserable rather than break out and be insecure?  The insecurity will eventually fade, the misery will merely grow larger and darker. So. Heave-ho. We’re out of this bitch in 8 weeks. Just in time for rainy season. So glad I’ll be missing that. Especially since, according to Ray Ray (the meteorology expert) it’s a La Nina year – extra rainy and wet. EXTRA. Rainy and wet. I’ll be in Vegas, lounging by the pool y’all.