Does this thing still fit?

Many, many seasons and stories have come and gone since I last visited this space.  I almost feel like I don't belong here, as the woman who wrote here so regularly before isn't the same woman writing today. I'm still figuring out exactly where I belong on the interwebs and I suppose this blog is like a pair of old jeans I havent' worn in a while.  I'm trying "Seasons and Stories" back on to see if it still fits. Will I need to make some adjusments or go shopping for something brand new altogether?  If this blog is anything like my ever changing waistline, I'll probably be going shopping for something new soon.

Looking back at old posts, I remember my old life and nothing is the same accept for my struggles with anxiety, weight and having to wake up early in the morning.  I used to have so many friends and write about sunshine on a regular basis and take pictures of table settings for whatever I was hosting. After recently moving into a new house, I threw away placemats and napkin rings because they seemed silly as my current life has no need for such things.  In the past few years, I've also gotten over my need to impress people or want them to like me, and my napkin rings were a reminder of the old me that wanted to be accepted.

My boys are older and bigger.  Praise the Lord we survived the little years! Jacob grew out of his need to scream about everything and only does that on special occasions now.  His fashion sense and personal style is ever-evolving as he's very into having longer hair, leather bracelets and plaid flannel shirts to wear over EVERYTHING.  Tommy is an inch taller than me now and my once joy-filled boy is now a mess of hilarious joke-telling, complicated feelings and crazy hormones as he is about to head into teenager land in a few months. He recently earned third chair in All Region band for middle school as a SEVENTH grader and I am still so stinking proud, you would have thought I was the trombone player.

I got divorced.  It was very awful and sad.

I married (after I swore off marriage) a man named Travis who is the cheese to my macaroni.  He's a big bearded man who curses like a sailor and has a heart of gold. We haven't stopped going on adventures, we both love the beach and recently we've become passionate about going to bed at 9:30 every night.  He likes to talk.  I like to talk.  He's funny.  I'm hilarious. He's a romantic and I like to swoon.  We're both very into sex. It's working out pretty well so far.

I have two more bonus kids with my husband now and entering into the role of step-mom has been overwhelming.  Only recently have I felt like I'm finding a groove of step-momming. One of my bonus kids is a bonus DAUGHTER, so clothes shopping for kids has become infinitely more exciting.  Except she's getting to the age where she doesn't like anything I pick out and she is only 10.  Lawd help.

I've become a dog person and have my very own dog named Chester - and if you would have told the woman who wrote here six and eight years ago that she would have Pit-Lab mix that she slept with every night and fork-fed salmon to, I would have laughed in your adorable face. He is the best dog in the history of dogs and I love him like he's my child.

Most of my friendships were a casualty of the divorce including those that I thought would be in my life forever. I have no "best friend" other than my husband Travis.  I miss female friendship and it's also weird because I am not lonely - not one bit. 

I stopped doing so many of the things that I loved because my heart was utterly wrecked and everything I thought I knew about faith, God, family, and friendships flew out the window after the divorce.  I'm back at the beginning of something new which makes me tired if I'm being honest. Picking myself up after going through all that I did has been the hardest I've had to work for anything in my life. But, here I am doing it. 

It's 2022 and I turn 41 in March. I have zero things figured out, and my ducks have long wandered off, but I'm grateful to be living and breathing and present here.

Some things are better.  Some things are harder. Some things are just entirely different. And it's time to write about all of it.