Happy FriendsGiving!!


What do you do when you aren’t able to spend Thanksgiving with your family??

Why, you host a FRIENDSGIVING!!

Apparently it’s the new “it thing” to do. Who cares if its a fad. If it won’t be a thing next year. What matters is that I feel like today I was able to make some people’s Thanksgiving, including my own, just a little bit better and brighter.

Let’s start with the back story. Before Mr. Chocolate and I went our separate ways I had planned on staying in town with his family for Thanksgiving. My mom and step-dad were leaving to go out of town early on Friday morning, I hate Thanksgiving traffic, my dad’s family doesn’t celebrate until Sunday. I didn’t want to fight the traffic to go home for one day. My mom tried to make it happen. I was stubborn.

So they changed their plans to leave on Thursday instead of Friday. I don’t blame them. Long drive. Smart thinking there Ma. ANYWAY! After the split, plans were offered to be changed. I was still stubborn. I still hate driving in all that traffic. It’s awful. Horrible. Ick. (Hey Ma, what do you say next year you come here??)

All of my stubbornness meant that I was going to be alone on turkey day. Which isn’t so bad, until you realize it’s the first BIG holiday in the holiday season. Then it becomes kind of depressing. It becomes more depressing when you realize that just a couple weeks ago I should have been celebrating 3 major milestones with Mr. Chocolate – our anniversary, my 29th birthday, and our 1 year of living together. Thanksgiving was starting to sound super depressing.

So what does a get it done (sometimes with a little coaxing from others) kind of girl do when life is throwing lemons at her? (Ok, maybe I threw them at myself, whatever. This is my story, and I’m sticking with life was doing the throwing.)

I digress. So, what does a get it done kind of girl do in this type of situation?? She gets shit done! She talks to her coworkers who aren’t able to spend Thanksgiving with their families, she makes plans, cleans house, and cooks her happy little curvy ass off.

She makes a turkey (yes, you read that right, I made a turkey!). And mashed potatoes. She bakes a cake. And decorates a tree. Sets a table. She makes it feel like a home, minus all those blasted boxes.

We had friendsgiving. It was beautiful. It was short, sweet, and to the point. But more than that, it was nice to spend the afternoon with people who otherwise would have spent today like any other day. We came together like family. We ate, we played with a babe, we shared stories. It felt nice.

It was nice.

And then when my friendsgiving was over, I packed up my cake and took it to The Yikes and my boys. We had cake. Cake is good. I continued my friendsgiving just a little bit longer.

Friendsgiving. It’s awesome. It’s not the same as family. But sometimes, friends are pretty awesome stand-in family.



So I’m back in my house

And it’s pretty damn lonely.

I have so much I could should be doing, but I just don’t have it in me to do it. I should be unpacking boxes. Decorating. Putting things where they belong. And I have done some of that. But overall, I just can’t bring myself to do it.

Being here makes me sad. It makes me realize where my life is. How different I thought it was going to be at this point.

When I moved in with Mr. Chocolate I thought I’d never move back to this house. I thought other than playing landlord, my time with this house was over. I thought we’d be moving more towards a life together. Possibly renting this house for another year or two before trying to sell it again. Using that money to upgrade our home. Or for a wedding. Or honeymoon.

I thought when I left this house that my life was heading down the road to marriage and a family. I feel like I’ve back pedaled there. I feel like I took 1 giant step forward when I left this house. And I feel like my life has taken about 10 times as many steps backwards since coming back.

And since coming back here, I find myself not just being lonely, but angry. I’m angry at Mr. Chocolate. I’m angry that a year ago I left him because I wanted to settle down with someone and start a family. And he told me he couldn’t give me that life. I’m angry at him for not letting me be then. I’m angry that he came back to me and gave me hope that he did want that. No, I’m sorry, I’m angry that he said he did want that. And better yet, that he wanted that with me. I’m angry that he just woke up one day, or so it seems, and things were over. He claims to have been feeling it for a while, the whole “I can’t give you the life you want” thing. I’m angry that he didn’t talk to me about it first. That he just made our relationship hell for a few days before finally ending things by telling me he didn’t want to be miserable and resent me one day.

I’m angry that after 4 1/2 years he didn’t feel like he could talk to me about things. That he had to decide 100% on his own, push me away as far as possible, and then break my heart. Who does that!? I’m angry that after those 4 1/2 years, talking to each other feels more like a business deal than anything else. “You left this at the house.” “I found this while unpacking.” There’s no emotion. Good, bad, or indifferent. Ok, well lots of indifferent. But nothing. We don’t talk, which also makes me angry, even though I know it is 100% for the best that we don’t. But I don’t understand how just one day, that’s it. Done. Over.

After 4 1/2 years with someone you can walk away. Leave that life.

And more than being angry, I’m scared. Extremely scared. I don’t know how to date anymore. I’ve changed so much since I met him. I don’t know where to find guys my age. I don’t go out anymore. Online dating is a crock of shit. Seriously, I get messages asking me if I like anal (seriously, that’s all the guy said to me) or if I’m interested in a 3-some. Ugh, no fellas, I’m not interested in either of those options. Thank you.

I’m scared that by the time I find someone and do settle down, that it’ll be too late. That my 1 good ovary is going to give up and my chance at a family will have been wasted on someone who didn’t even want a family. Even though they told me they did!!

I thought moving back into my house would be liberating. Would make me feel empowered. But mostly, it makes me angry. Sad. Lonely. It makes me scared for the future. Overwhelmed at all that I have left to do in this house to make it feel like a home.

I’m over it already.

How do you live alone?

I’m not going to lie, the idea of living alone is one of my biggest fears right now. And I’m going to have to face it this weekend.

I’m not afraid of living alone in the way that I fear something will happen to me. Or that the bumps in the night will scare me. I’m afraid of living alone in the way that I haven’t done it in so long. I don’t know how to do it anymore. I don’t know how to go home to an empty house and just be me.

Yes, before and during a large part of my relationship with Mr. Chocolate I lived alone. But while we were together I got so used to having someone else there. It was pretty early into our relationship when I started staying over at his house, or he would stay at mine, almost nightly. And once construction started on the main road that runs right behind my house I psedu moved in with him. And a little while after that we took the plunge and actually combined households.

So, I’d say for at least the past 3, if not more, years I’ve been coming home to someone on the regular.

Shoot, even after we broke up, I’ve been staying with friends. I have someone to come home to. Someone to talk to. Talk about my day with. Spend time with.

I don’t know how to be alone. I have no idea how. I’ve forgotten how to do it and I’m really afraid of relearning it. I don’t understand both the freedoms and responsibilities of living alone anymore. I am excited to relearn those same freedoms and responsibilities, but scared also.

What do you do when you’re alone? What is acceptable anymore? Is it ok to veg out and Netflix all night? Am I supposed to be productive? Can I take a bubble bath at 8pm and be in bed by 9pm? Do those things start to seem lonely? Will I be lonely? What if I am? What do I do?

I need someone to just tell me how to live alone. Tell me what to do. I can make a plan for everything else. I can’t plan this one. I mean, I guess I could schedule out my bubble bath and Netflix time – but that just seems loserish.

I’m ready to be on my own 2 feet again. I know I’ll be fine. It’s going to take some time and some getting used to, but I’ll be fine.

Facebook Memories can be evil

Apparently lots of things are evil here recently.

But when Facebook brings up memories you weren’t totally ready for, it’s awful.

Yesterday I was supposed to move back into my townhouse. I was supposed to be able to get back up on my own 2 feet. I was ready. I can do this. I’m ready to take on the world. (BTW – all that didn’t happen, which is a story for another day.) I thought I was totally, 100% in control of my life. And minus the minor setback of not being able to move, I was 100% in control of my life.

Then today. Oh today. I logged into Facebook this afternoon. And of course the “See Your Memories” tab pops up. So I click. I knew this day was coming up. I knew it would pop up any time now. I just didn’t expect it to be today.

Today is the 1 year anniversary of when I moved to the farm. I move in with Mr. Chocolate. One year ago today, was what I thought was the first major step for the rest of my life. Instead, today I researched moving companies to move me back into my townhouse. Today I researched ways to start my life over. Alone. With Mr. Chocolate. Something that 1 year ago I thought we would celebrate and have as a special day in our lives, in turn was a pretty damn hard day to face.

I’d be lying to you if I said I didn’t tear up. I didn’t cry! But I teared up. I got emotional.

It’s still hard. So damn hard. I miss him. I miss crawling into bed with him. I miss his smile. His laugh. I miss the way he could look at me and I would crack up. The way he could look at me and I knew he loved me. I miss our home. Our life.

Each day is a little easier. And each coming day will continue to get easier. But today, tonight, it wasn’t easy. It was hard. And I know there will be those days also. I know there will be the days when I just feel like I can’t. Like I won’t find that with anyone else. And then I’ll remember that while today marks 1 year since I moved in with Mr. Chocolate, it also marks 2 months that he’s not been mine. That we’ve not been each other’s. It marks 2 months that I’ve been single.

And no, I’m not perfect since the breakup. I still have moments that hit me wrong, like realizing what today is. But overall, for 2 months, I’m doing pretty great. And for right now, pretty great is pretty awesome.

Who knows, maybe I’ll look back on my Facebook Memories in about 10 months and celebrate. (Or maybe not, who knows.) I won’t celebrate the end of my relationship. But the beginning of my new life. I’ll celebrate the chance to have the life I want. I’ll celebrate the fact that a man loved me enough, that when he realized he couldn’t give me that life, he set me free to find someone who could. I’ll celebrate my new life. The life where I’ve vowed to date myself. The life that includes cooking with peppers and onions again. Maybe I’ll celebrate many things. Maybe I won’t. Only time will tell.

But tonight, tonight I’m no longer going to dwell on what this day should have been. I’m going to focus on what this life still has to offer.

Want to know what’s hard?

Being an adult is hard.
Having your heart broken is hard.
Having to go back to the place where your heart was broken & face the man who did it – nearly impossible.

That’s what I’m getting ready to do this weekend. I’m not ready for it in any way, shape, or form.

I thought I was. I thought I could be strong. I thought I could be ok. I don’t think I can. I think I’m going to lose my shit all over again. In fact, I know I will. I almost did today when talking to him about it all.

Let’s back track some shall we?

This past weekend I went trail riding with some friends. Some mutual friends of Mr. Chocolate & myself. The friends I’m living with, as well as some others. Mr. Chocolate thought about going – but didn’t. I was prepared for that. I was ready to handle seeing him. To being around him. I knew there would be minimal interaction. He would be in a different truck. I would be with The Roommates. Things would be fine. He didn’t go for whatever reason, and that’s fine.

But now. Now I have to go back to the house. His house. Our house. I have to go back to the house that I have so many memories of. The house that I spent months cleaning out, painting, fixing up. The house that has so many of my blood sweat and tears poured into it. The house that I thought I was going to marry the man I loved in. Raise a family in. The house that I had my heart ripped out in. The house that I had to mourn the end of my relationship in. The house that I loved. The man that I love(d).

I have to go back because I have to pick up my mail. I have to pick up jackets and shoes that I forgot. I can’t ignore these things – ok, yes I can, but I’m choosing not to because I need these things. It would be so easy to ignore these things. My bills are paid, I’m not expecting any checks. I have a Jamberry delivery, but I can live without that. Coats? Who needs those – it’s not like it was 40 degrees this morning or anything. Besides, they sell those at the store.

Trying to arrange all of this, just talking to him again about something so simple as MAIL, has been awful. Not the conversation itself. The conversation has honestly been beyond dull.

“Can I come get my mail this weekend?”
“Sure. I’m out of town right now. How about Friday?”


But for some reason this dull conversation has pulled at my heart strings something massive today. I felt myself choking up about it. I could feel the tears behind my eyes. I THOUGHT I WAS PAST ALL THAT! Apparently not. Apparently just speaking to him, or maybe the fear of going back to that house, has me on edge.

It would be so easy to ask The Roommate to go do it. He and Mr. Chocolate are best friends. They hang out often. At least once a week.

But I’m better than that. I am not going to be a coward. I deserve my stuff and I’m going to get it. I’m going to put on my big girl panties, I’m going to go back to that house. Our house. His house. And I’m going to get the things I left and the things I need.

And more than that – I’m going to be ok.

In time I’m sure I’ll be ok with seeing and talking to Mr. Chocolate again. And I honestly believe that if I weren’t going back to our his house, I would be fine.

I thought I said good-bye to that place. I don’t know if I’m ready to do it again.


So yeah… I’m single

I have been for about a month now.

I’d be lying if I didn’t say I had some inclination towards the end that it was coming. I knew things were getting rough, but I didn’t think we were to the point of breaking up. I apparently had no idea what was running through his head.

I don’t fault him. I don’t have hard feelings. I hope one day we can be friendly since we have so many of the same friends. He told me he didn’t want to get married or have a family. And that’s understandable. I’m glad he told me now instead of 6 months or even 6 years down the road. I think telling me now was brave. He could have gone along with what society says we should do – get engaged, get married, have kids. Instead he did what was right for both of us. He ended things peacefully and gave me the chance to have those things in life with someone who does want those things. Someone who doesn’t have any reservations about having that life.

I haven’t really been totally ready to talk about it. Ok, that’s a lie. I was ready to talk about. But I wasn’t ready to sit down in front of a computer and type it all out. In all honesty, I’m kind of talked out about it all. I’ve talked to my family. To my friends. To my coworkers. I’ve talked to people who asked questions because I felt like I had to explain things and how they could just suddenly end. I’ve talked to people who felt like they needed to talk to me in order for me to be ok. I’ve talked until I was blue in the face and red in the eyes.

I’m talked out.

But I’m ok.


And each day I’m getting a little better.

I know, I know. Everyone says they’re getting better. And then in reality they’re over there like Drink all the wine! Sleep with all the guys! Pretend I’m fine when really I’m a giant ball of mess!!

I promise that’s not me. (Except maybe the wine part. Well, still no – not all the wine.)

I am currently displaced. And that’s hard. I’m living with some friends who were nice enough to take me and the two furbabies in until I can move back into my townhouse. I owe them so much. I’ve been trying to help pick up around the house, help with the kiddos, cook them awesome dinners. So far I’m doing great at the dinners part.

So far I’ve made an awesome meatloaf. Some amazing cheesy corn chowder (Go find the Pioneer Woman’s recipe. Now. Seriously). Tonight was quiche, asparagus, and potatoes. I’ve made chicken enchiladas. Every time I get told how awesome it is. I think they’re appreciating it. At least I hope so.

And I must say, it was pretty awesome to be told that I’ll have no trouble in finding a man who appreciates me. I agree, friend, I agree.


So now begin the interesting adventures in online dating!

Stay tuned my friends…


Seriously y’all, best advice I’ve ever been told.

And sometimes, it’s really hard advice to follow.

I don’t want to admit that my body has gotten to where it is. I don’t want to admit that I need size 20 dress bottoms. I don’t want to look at size XXL shirts. I want the cute size 7/8 and medium that I was when I met Mr. Chocolate. But, that’s not the body I have.

The body I have is bigger. It has more different curves. It is softer. And rounder. It doesn’t have much of a waist and it has giant boobs. Ugh. Both of those aspects make clothes shopping difficult. This body doesn’t like form fitting clothes. It doesn’t mind bright colors or patterns. But it doesn’t like tight.

My old body didn’t mind form fitting or tight. But it also wasn’t as fond of the bright colors and patterns. My old body still wanted to hide in the shadows.

Body Shapes Sketch for blogWhat I learned this weekend while shopping is that colors are great. Crop pants are fun. And shopping sucks.

I’ve also decided that I’m fairly rectangle shaped now. Maybe some apple thrown in for good measure. No waste. Big boobs. Big thighs. I decided that more fitting on the bottom with a little more flowy on top works for me. But I do also love a maxi skirt, and that’s when you pair it with a nice, more fitted, top.

But most importantly, I realized I can’t wear the size I think I am and still look good. I have to wear the size that actually looks good. And you know what, I got some super cute outfits. And I’m going to look downright adorable.

And my friends, THAT is what is important.