Ungrateful. She complained about her non-ending circle she called her life and all I could feel was: envy. How could someone have so much but still feel so unappreciative? She was so young yet had the perspective of a person who was on the brink of death. “I would.” I replied to her so simply. Before she could interpose I proceeded, “I wish I was stuck in that point in my life when I was happy. Waking up to my husband, go to work, come back home ignorant of his cheating ways, and cook us dinner. I would do anything to just click pause, rewind to that point, and stay there forever. I didn’t want to leave that country. I lie to myself every day, telling myself I hate that country, I hate him, I didn’t even like my job. When facing loss you are tricked into denial. I love him, I still do, I sometimes wish for some divine accident to strip me from my memory just to forget. I wish he loved me like he did before. I wish he stayed. I wish I didn’t even hire my secretary. I had my home, my job that I loved, my husband, even a coffee shop I went to regularly that knew my ‘usual’. Wishing, wishing, and wishing. Yet I’m still at my parents’ house, mourning the life I had. I gave up everything I had remaining from my previous life, and left. Now, I really don’t know where to go. I’m lost” the moment I said the last sentence I grasped how damaged I was. After several months of repudiation, I confessed my confliction.
I aimed, as I did my entire life, and achieved. Graduated, married who I thought and might as well think was the love of my life, and got a spectacular job that I cherished. In one week, I was stripped from everything I knew. The dreams I worked for and accomplished snatched away from me. My husband now loves someone else and is a father to that woman’s fetus who probably is building nest in my house (which he bought anonymously after I put it up for sale), my office is probably occupied by that degenerate sleaze Markovnikov. Stolen, betrayed, and inconsolable. I was always taught to fight, until my last breath, and in all my cases I fought vigorously and won continuously. Yet some battles demand surrender, sometimes waving your sword aimlessly left and right won’t allow you to take down your challenge. That’s why some people never fight for a lost cause because it’s…pointless.
To everyone I was a lost cause, my employers who once thought so highly of me, my husband that sought out affection from another, and my parents who can’t fathom the idea why I’m still under their roof. That is why I confessed that “I’m lost”, because actually I am. She was adamant that her routine life was dull and fruitless, the endless loop she is stuck in had no finish line, no delight from the journey, no zest. I was fine with routine. I loved it! I was accustomed to it, no sudden surprises, no jolts, no predicaments but the customary case or two that filled me with stress or a few charity benefits that needed premeditation in the manner of preparation, other than those few occurrences I was gratified, happy, content.
It’s how you look at things that matter I guess.
One year my husband and I spent our vacation in France. One might assume that we went to Paris, slept on satin sheets in expensive five star hotels, drank exquisite wine and ate appetizing desserts in over-acclaimed restaurants. We did all that, but also took the opportunity to marvel at the country side. The rural delights, the sights far beyond the boundaries of the major city. One afternoon we managed to reach a lavender field in Provence the south of France. I always had this fascination with lavenders. My husband knew how infatuated I was with the flower and always sent me a dozen every month at work, one of many redeemable qualities. We managed to stay at a lovely bed and breakfast, which was actually a house from the 15th century, in the Luberon, around the Mont-Ventoux, in the region of Sault which overlooked the lavender field that bordered the small villa. The small bed and breakfast was managed by an old couple, they were very kind and hospitable talked often about their achieved grandchildren, spoke fondly about their marriage, and the consequences that led them to running this villa.
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Escaping The LoopChickLit
At 28, Jillian realizes that her seemingly perfect life is a continuous mundane routine. she is fed up with conformity and wants change. Along the way, she battles depression, gets nostalgic, falls in love, and realizes that life and living happen w...