I’m actually highly embarrassed writing this blog post. It’s 2:14am, and this blog is 2 hours 14 minutes late (at least, since you also need to add how long it takes me to write it. But hopefully that won’t be too long at this ridiculous hour). I was only talking to my Life Coach, Jon Richelieu-Booth, earlier today about how I’ve pretty much managed to stay on top of these blogs, with only a handful of late blogs during this challenge. But here I go again, and the reason being, you won’t be surprised to hear, is a member of the male species.
As I finally switch off my iPhone’s Have You Blogged Today??!! reminder, which I’ve been snoozing every five minutes since 9pm, I realise that I have a history of making the same mistakes over and over again. During the time of my university career when I need to be focussed on my work, I have let myself get distracted by the idea of meeting The Perfect Man. I had just about given up; or at least parked the idea until after I was done with uni. But no. The internet dating site I was telling you about the other day, the one where you can’t actually talk to people came up trumps, with a rather good-looking guy sending me a message along with his mobile phone number. To quote an Eric Martin song, I’m a Sucker for a Pretty Face, and the idea that this particular pretty face may finally be the Man of My Dreams was just too much to ignore, even for two weeks while I rid myself of the dissertation that has been haunting me for the last two years.
So I started messaging said guy, and arranged to meet him this week. He doesn’t live nearby, so it would have meant a full day away from home. Long story short, something just didn’t feel right and I had to go along with my gut instinct, and actually walk away from aforementioned hot guy. He didn’t seem particularly upset, sending me a “Bye babe x” text. Babe. Even if it was only for two days, I enjoyed having somebody call me babe, and the excitement of thinking this could be the one.
Of course, afterwards, I went into mini meltdown. I couldn’t do anything, except cry my eyes out, and lay on my bed. I’ve somehow managed to snooze while snoozing my blog reminder. It’s a miracle it’s still going off to be honest, a lesser person would have just switched it off hours ago, but like the reminder for my tablets, I refuse to switch it off until I’ve actually done what the reminder tells me I should have done, otherwise I will forget (hence the reason for a reminder).
I realise that I let myself get distracted because, deep down (or on the surface really) I just want what I’ve always wanted – to be in a loving relationship with the guy of my dreams. Maybe the reason I’m struggling to finish off my uni work, is because it will finally mean doing what I’ve been trying to do for years, which is to escape from my home town and all its ghosts. After 34 years, 22 of them spent hankering after the guy I thought was “The One”, well I finally have to admit I was wrong. He wasn’t the one. He wasn’t even a maybe. By finishing uni, and moving away, I’ll finally be putting the last nail in the coffin on The One That Got Away, as I always thought of him.
I am prone to repeating the same mistakes and not learning from them. A reminder of that came in the form of a letter, received while I was away over the weekend, from a debt collection agency. It was asking if I was indeed the person named who used to live at blah blah address. Yes I am. But I worry as to why it is asking me this, in relation to a “Business Matter”. Read: unpaid debt. This is from a time when I was married, in fact I haven’t lived at that address for over four years, and I thought all our debts from that time were paid off.
At the time when my divorce is almost finalised, I’m less than impressed to receive something like this out of the blue. Almost like a reminder that your past will always be there to bite you on the ass.
After I finish writing this, I will switch off my laptop, crawl under my duvet, which hasn’t hosted me since Wednesday night, and switch off the touch lamp my mum gave me last time she came over. I’ll go to sleep, with The Bish next to me, and when I wake up tomorrow, I’ll start on my dissertation. Time to banish those ghosts. Get those last 2000 words written, and then time for editing, before getting it bound and submitted in time before the deadline. No more distractions. I can’t afford to lose focus on what’s important; that I am a third of the way through this challenge, and therefore a third of the way closer to being able to say goodbye to all past mistakes, and move on to a brand new page, and the chance to reinvent myself. I cannot lose this second chance at life. My parents are waiting to see me graduate this September, along with the person that matters most. Myself.
33andlostinlife 