"Only dull people are brilliant at breakfast"
-Oscar Wilde
Brilliant at Breakfast title banner "The liberal soul shall be made fat, and he that watereth, shall be watered also himself."
-- Proverbs 11:25
"...you have a choice: be a fighting liberal or sit quietly. I know what I am, what are you?" -- Steve Gilliard, 1964 - 2007

"For straight up monster-stomping goodness, nothing makes smoke shoot out my ears like Brilliant@Breakfast" -- Tata

"...the best bleacher bum since Pete Axthelm" -- Randy K.

"I came here to chew bubblegum and kick ass. And I'm all out of bubblegum." -- "Rowdy" Roddy Piper (1954-2015), They Live
Saturday, June 13, 2015

The Prodigal Blogger Stops By
Posted by Jill | 7:58 PM
Hello, Seekers!

It's been quite a long time since Your Humble Hostess has written on this here blog.  If the truth be told, I have had little inclination to write about the things I used to.  Grief is exhausting, and leaves little room in the soul for ranting about politics.  It's not that I don't care anymore, it's that I ranted into the wilderness for the better part of a decade, and where did it get us?

Those of you who are my Facebook friends know that I haven't been silent.  But between the Job That Ate My Life, a bad case of Widow Brain that has left me virtually unable to concentrate on the impossible project I've been handed at my job, and the emotional struggle of feeling neither here nor there as I prepare to take a leap of faith, ditch it all, buy health insurance on whatever is left of the health care exchanges after the GOP and Supreme Court get through with them, sell my house, pack up the cats and head south to North Carolina, where frankly, they need my vote desperately.

Shortly after Mr. Brilliant died, I had set up a new blog called Don't Call Me a Widow.  Oh, I was fine, yes indeedy I was.  None of that grief stuff that my mother had done for twelve years for me, nosirree.  I had dinner with friends at restaurants that Mr. B. didn't like.  I cooked things he would never eat.  To be honest, it was a relief for a short time to have it all over with and to not have to be the recipient of someone's frustrated rage at being ill and disappointed.

That lasted about six months.

Two weeks after Mr. B's death, I joined a Meetup for widows and widowers.  I met several very cool women, and professed my I'm-just-fineness.  The woman who runs the group, who lost her husband at 42 from lung cancer, patted me on the back and said, "Oh, honey, you're still numb.  It hasn't hit you yet."

But at about six months, it did.

For lo these twenty months now, I've been going nonstop.  Until recently, when my job role changed and I began reporting to someone in Germany, where they have a workers council and take their 40 hour weeks very seriously, I continued to work 50, 60, 70 hours a week.  I went out.  I had a lot of remodeling done in the house.  I went to Italy with friends.  This spring I went to Prague for work.  I got rid of a ton of stuff, donating and freecycling as much as I could.  Now I'm prepping the house to sell so I can head south.  If I've been given this blank slate on which to write a new start, it can't be in a place where a mere trip to the dentist is full of "We used to buy crumb cake here" and "Remember when we lived here and had parties?" and "Remember how good the chow fun was here?" and just too damn many memories.  I moved to Bergen County, NJ to be with Mr. Brilliant and even though I've been here 32 years, it just doesn't feel like I belong here anymore.

It's not that life is so bad.  It's not even that I'm lonely.  I've always been able to enjoy my own company.  It's just that I've become an impostor in my own life.

I don't know what the future holds.  I'm toying with the idea of writing a book about this whole experience.  I might start a blog about being a Tarheel transplant.  I might finish my Great Sweeping Novel.  Or something else.

I don't know if anyone even still reads this blog, which is kind of sad after all these years.  But things change.  Life changes.  And then we're gone.  The question for me now, not to get all Gandalf on you, is to decide what to do with the time that has been given to me.


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Anonymous ShortWoman said...
It's good to see you.

Blogger Poli said...
As long as you keep posting (even if it is once a few months, or once a few years) I'll still stop by and check it out.

I wish you nothing but the best.

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Good luck to you in whatever you decide to do.

Anonymous Anonymous said...
Checking in regularly. Glad to see you had time for a new post and good luck with your move. Courage lives!

Blogger James Carroll said...

Blogger Nan said...
Doesn't matter if you post once a week, once a month, or once a year. You'll always have readers. Good luck with getting the house sold and moving on to wherever life takes you.

Blogger Patricia said...
Jill, do what you need to do. Go where your heart tells you to. Make a new life, it's yours for the taking. I stop by, whenever I see a new post, Don't think your energy was ever wasted on this blog. It wasn't. You are doing the best you can, know that it is enough.
Patricia, widow of 14 years.

Anonymous Anonymous said...
I wish you well on your journey. I hope you find your way back to political blogging when you're ready. I haven't found anyone else that I like to read as much...

Blogger PurpleGirl said...
Jill, I stop by periodically, hoping to find a post by you.

This was one of the blogs I read every day.

I hope that whatever you decide to do works out for you.

I'd find a blog about your experiences moving to NC interesting and would read it.

Continue taking care of yourself.

Blogger The New York Crank said...
I'm happy to see you back, Jill, even if it's just fleetingly. I wish I could help you finish your mourning, but it my own case it still hasn't finished and The Crank's Beautiful Girlfriend has been dead for four and a half years. I sometimes wonder if it ever ends. I think we never get over it, but with any luck, in time we manage to get around it.

I still talk to her, which is rather ridiculous since we are/were both atheists, and if she could hear me she'd be mocking me. But damn, I still miss her. And I need to talk to her and tell her I miss her. So I do.

Life goes on. We go on. Blog when you can, Jill. I will be delighted to read you. And to support you. And I pray(even if to a God in whom I don't believe) that your pain will grow increasingly bearable.

-The New York Crank

Anonymous GHSuper said...
I constantly check for your thoughts I love them; and I love you. Do what you may, I will continue to check on this site, because you have become a beacon of reason for me.

Blogger Batocchio said...
Hi, Jill! Best wishes, as always.