Ten years on

Ten years is a lot of catching up to do, but in a lot of ways the last few years were similar to the years I blogged. I had another baby, went to uni, changed careers and left my husband again. Reading back over some of those posts I should have probably known better then. What I see as the biggest difference is how much less I believe in magic. I really wanted to believe in some sort of synchronicity back then, whereas now I see most behaviour as survivalist and our brains and bodies trying to follow patterns that don't altogether fit in the modern world. You'd think that makes me a pessimist, but I still think I'm pretty optimistic about my life. I'm just pragmatic.
So life now. I live in the same house I've rented for about 8 years. On the Gold Coast. I still don't get to the beach as often as I'd like but thats often more as a result of me being a homebody, or just the logistics of three kids who have other stuff they want to do. I work in a school library, which I love some of the time, and worry that it's not challenging enough the other half of the time. I'm vegan, and spend a lot of time thinking about eating, or cooking, or scrolling through social media feeds full of food posts.
I don't read as much as I think I should, but more personal reading than I did when I was studying. I survived 7 years of study with a small child by staying up late at night to study and am just now learning how to sleep normally again.
I dated! I spent months navigating the new world of online dating after not ever really dating as such even before being married for 20 years. It was fun, only a few minor disappointments and a few funny stories to tell of. I spent the first months of being single thinking I'd be celibate for the rest of my life, a few realising I was a sexual woman still, but no way was I going to let anyone get close enough to ...I wrote hurt me and then deleted. I think I didn't want to have to change me for anyone, as much as I didn't want anyone to have the power to make me sad. I bought a bed just the size for me to sleep alone, because I never intended to have the intimacy of having anyone wake up in my bed, or see me sleep. Then I met a guy who was really in love, unrequited love, with his wife. While he sleep-talked how he loved me/her I felt surprisingly sad that I was nobody's favourite, and I cried most of the next day. More than I had cried really since my husband moved out. So I tried dating to meet someone who might actually care for me, and found somehow, someone who made me question that I could communicate with anyone on an intimate level again, but I didn't give up and kept dating with the intention of meeting new people and working out what I was after at the very least. I met someone I was interested in, who seemed to have so many things in common and liked all the things the last guy had been annoyed by, who I feel I don't need to edit my thoughts. Yes he has baggage. I have all my own baggage and nervousness about that relationships don't last, and what people call romantic love is an illusion of society and brain chemicals....but I really like being with him, and it feels easy, and I'm learning more about myself, and I look forward to seeing him and overthink when I don't, and I trust that he wants the best for me and likes me. I figure no matter if we don't end up as a romantic couple I want this man in my life, and I want to enjoy the ride not hold back in case it doesn't last forever.
So perhaps this is a habit of rolling my ideas out into a keyboard again, or maybe it will take me another ten years, but right now it's storytime...and storytime doesn't wait.