I was called a free spirit by a woman who bothered to get to know me. I was shocked by her assessment. At that point in my life, I had "I don't know how many" jobs. I was a food service worker, cashier, bartender, typist, chiropractic assistant, rental assistant, real estate personal assistant, busgirl, administrative assistant, executive assistant to the president of an aerospace company, a business owner, a Mary Kay representative., need I say more? I was unemployed and looking with a newly-acquired accounting degree after 40. I was Alcoholismworking on my second marriage, blending-in my beautiful daughter, making amends, staying sober. Which implies that I was a drunk at some point in my life.
On closer inspection, following a bad break-up of my marriage to my daughter's father, I got kind of wild. I attempted suicide, fell in hero worship with my paramedic and learned about skydiving. Went skydiving and had it videotaped for posterity. Started hanging out with lower companions and learned how to ride Harley Davidson motorcycles. Drank to excess out of fear and loneliness. Lost a gorgeous 2,000-square foot home in earthquake country, moved two states away, began again.
Moved home, fell in lust often, contracted an STD, investigated and rejected an alternative lifestyle, navigated sobriety until it stuck. Reconstructed myself, bought a condominium, bought a Harley and rode the Hell out of it, dallied with outlaw bikers, wore "Property of" vestiture briefly, rejected the lifestyle, went mainstream. Renewed my love to crochet and knit with a vengeance. Became a shrewd landlord, went to college, earned a degree, graduated with honors, invested 401ks, followed the stock market, read lots of books, learned home design and home improvement, became enthralled with yard improvement, plant and bird identification, traveled spontaneously, journaled, photographed obsessively.
I guess you could call it that. I just thought I was trying to find out who I was. Bless her for her kindness.
On closer inspection, following a bad break-up of my marriage to my daughter's father, I got kind of wild. I attempted suicide, fell in hero worship with my paramedic and learned about skydiving. Went skydiving and had it videotaped for posterity. Started hanging out with lower companions and learned how to ride Harley Davidson motorcycles. Drank to excess out of fear and loneliness. Lost a gorgeous 2,000-square foot home in earthquake country, moved two states away, began again.
Moved home, fell in lust often, contracted an STD, investigated and rejected an alternative lifestyle, navigated sobriety until it stuck. Reconstructed myself, bought a condominium, bought a Harley and rode the Hell out of it, dallied with outlaw bikers, wore "Property of" vestiture briefly, rejected the lifestyle, went mainstream. Renewed my love to crochet and knit with a vengeance. Became a shrewd landlord, went to college, earned a degree, graduated with honors, invested 401ks, followed the stock market, read lots of books, learned home design and home improvement, became enthralled with yard improvement, plant and bird identification, traveled spontaneously, journaled, photographed obsessively.
I guess you could call it that. I just thought I was trying to find out who I was. Bless her for her kindness.
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