In six weeks and two days I have to be moved out of my present apartment to some other place somewhere in the world, that has at the very least, four walls and a roof. Usually this type of event would have me rushing around (as my mother would say) like a chicken with her head cut off, but for some reason, so far, I have been reasonably calm and as of last night, still sleeping 6 to 7 hours a night. This might all change by the time I am finished writing this post. By tonight I might be my usual hysterical, nervous, self, pacing the floor of my bedroom at 2:00 A.M. or scouring Google Apartments.com for an inexpensive 2 bedroom /2 bath/ pet friendly, apartment, w/v (with view) anywhere, on this planet. (If I’m not the person driving, I get car sick, so I am pretty sure I will not be taking any trips to the Moon or Mars in the near future.)
There is a slight stirring and some sort of movement in my stomach region. This might mean that when I am not looking; uncontrollable or exaggerated emotion could hit me at any moment. I am going to proceed with this essay as my invisible man-friend, who has two strong hands pushing down on my shoulders, will be keeping me seated and typing this post, while he is holding down my overly emotional self. You see I have an invisible friend. Well, actually, he is my invisible boyfriend. (If one is over 60, may I still use the term boyfriend?) My made-up, invisible boyfriend or man-friend is named (by me) Mr. Darcy. He is a man of reason. He tells me that when I only have $450 to last before my next check, that I really don’t need to buy that bottle of Champagne. He has stopped me from buying new shoes and a new wardrobe this year. He let me know last year that Martinis and Margaritas are very nice occasionally, for some special occasions, however, he strongly suggested one glass of wine or two with ice, might be a better idea for my waistline. I decided he was right. He did mention that two martinis are okay on special occasions as long as special occasions only happen two or three times a year. Mr. Darcy is a man of conviction and self-control. We argue with each other on occasion. Just today, for example, I was seriously considering having my son drive to Arby’s to buy me a beef sandwich, onion rings and a small Coke. Mr. Darcy flew into a rage. He couldn’t believe that I was seriously considering this lunch feast after I had worked so hard to lose 4 ½ Lbs. last week. So after a long argument I decided to have one slice of ham and a half of slice of Swiss cheese on one slice of Rye bread with a large glass of water. Golly, Mr. Darcy can be so persuasive in an argument. He actually made me stand on the scale in my bathroom. That did it! He can be a tyrant at times.
Mr. Darcy found this statement on Facebook and he made me notice it, and save it, on my desktop Screen Saver, to remind myself of what is important and what I should remember. It states, “Don’t chase, don’t beg, don’t be desperate, just relax. When you relax it will come to you. Make your wants, want you.” {(I am not sure who said this, but at the top of the statement, this is what was written.)(@MINDSETOFGREATNES}
Well, Mr. Darcy was right again. This statement has helped me through this new difficult situation. Having to move again on a limited budget in six weeks and two days can be very stressful. Each morning when I wake, I read the above statement and I take a deep breath and go on with my day.
Now, I take a part of each day with Google, Apartment.com, and Rent.com. & Zillow.com, searching for a safe place, for myself, my son, my two cats and a dog with ……. 2bds/2ba/parking/w/d/pet friendly/w/v. It has occurred to me lately that really we are all searching for a safe place. We are all searching for a safe harbor where we can live and laugh and learn and love without fear. I am looking for a place where I might be able to take long, deep, breaths of clean air and where I might be able to take walks by myself or with my dog and feel safe and secure without worry.
I know I have been searching for most of my life for a safe harbor so that for a few years I might not have to be the one who handles everything for everyone. I have been hoping for a time when someone else, besides me, might be able to pick up the slack, make the decision, make the money, pay the bills, find the apartment, sign the lease, make that homerun, take the ball and run with it, lift that bail, just someone else, for once. Then, I remember, my imaginary friend, Mr. Darcy. When I don’t know where to go or what to do and I wonder if over the age of 65 if I will be able to keep handling everything on my own and by myself: this is when, Mr. Darcy appears. He gives me a pat on the back and smiles his, warm, charming, smile and he reminds me that I have done this before and I can do it again. He reminds me that I am strong and that I have gotten this far and to this age, by being the substantial, impregnable, force, that has been managing herself and her family and her business for a long, long, time. Somehow, in a few weeks, I will be packing and unpacking again. I will manage to stay calm and I will handle things, as usual. Thank you, Mr. Darcy, wherever you are. I guess he knew I had it in me all of the time.
Until Next Week…
Is There Sex After 60? (Navigating Single Life After 60) 