One of my new coworkers is facing potential catastrophe with the love of her life. We were just casually talking the other day after I transferred her hubby’s call to her, saying “A really sexy sounding gentleman alleges he’s your husband…”

We got to talking for a few minutes later in the day and I began the small talk, asking how long they’d been married. 28 years, she told me.

I tend to size people up by what they say after the length of the marriage. “Still going strong” is what she then said, with a warm smile, staring pointedly into my eyes. I asked what the secret was and she said the standard, “We’re best friends.” But I could tell when she said it that she meant it, and more than a dozen people today have told me the same thing of her relationship — they’re best friends.

Evidently, she and her husband had been sitting around last night, drinking wine, laughing as he read her a play he’d just finished writing for a theatre production this fall. He got up to go get a glass of water and suddenly began vomiting and turning blue. Next thing you know, he’s in the hospital with a mystery virus, in ICU, hanging on for his life in some inexplicable coma.

I said earlier this week, “Never assume the persons you love know how you feel. Say what you think. Say it often.”

I just think it’s important to remember how life can turn around for you in an instant. Every harsh word you say could be the last those in your life ever hear. We get complacent and take for granted the routines of today will be the routines we endure tomorrow. Complacency, ignorance, optimism, naivety — call it what you will. Every one of those qualities can be incredibly destructive if it leads to you living a lifetime of regret for words that can never be stricken from your past.

Live the life you know won’t leave you cloaked in regret. Say the things you can later be proud you said. Should’ve/could’ve/would’ve… It’s so fucking cliche, yet every day we see constant reminders of how fleeting our lives are. Still, each of us is guilty for forgetting those simple truisms — be it for a moment, or for years.

I have a feeling her husband will recover. But if he doesn’t, the only thing she’ll have to do is mourn him — not regret her choices, her words, or the life they lived together. That’s something, at least. And that’s something I know firsthand from losses I’ve endured; losses that came with great pain, but never regrets.

So, in the morning it’ll officially be one month since I began my new job. I’ve just rushed in from torrential rains, which makes for fun scooter riding, to be sure, and I’m sitting here in my business clothes, a little spent but ultimately pleased with myself.

I’ve been thinking a lot these last couple weeks about the job and just how much it’s transforming me. The term I’ve been thinking a lot of is “authentic self”. I find myself being fully authentic, all day long. I’m flippant, I’m confident, I’ve got bravado and one hell of a cheesy smirk, and I’m the people person I always knew I was.

Over the last seven, eight years of my life, much of that part of me has faded away off and on, depending on the era and the happenstance. My mother died, I almost died two or three times, and all that shit conspires to make it very, very hard for one to be who they are to the core. One can literally get lost in the darkness of their life. I know I did.

I also know I began to emerge a year and a half ago. I was changing and becoming who I wanted to be, but my life wasn’t catching up. Finally, both my life and I are on the same page, and the whirlwind’s not even close to slowing down, but it’s a good whirlwind. I’m still finding my footing, but I’m still also trying to decide how much of this new person I am is just a re-emerging of the girl I was but had lost in darkness.

I normally try to write myself through change, but something about the last few weeks has made writing seem more prohibitive a thought than a realistic tool to use to navigate the changing waters I found myself swimming in. That tide’s turning now, and I’m starting to want to scribe it out and share it for digesting.

The trouble is, I’m not sure how many of you, the readers, are tuning in to see what I have to say about sex and relationships. I have no clue how much you expect me to confine my thoughts to those realms only. Sometimes I care too much about the numbers and the logistics. I’m as conscientious as they come, so it troubles me to NOT be about just those topics. I aim to please. Always. Y’know how I mean?

The reality is, though, that without the self & self-love, you can have all the sex and relationships you want, but they’re never going to be the right fit for you. How much of the sex/relationship is merely serving as emotional Spackle in your life full of holes, y’know?

I am, honestly, trying to bring dating into my life. Oddly, that’s made complicated by the fact that I’m on the verge of what looks to be a truly wonderful year me. I’m optimistic. I’m happy about where I’m going. I’m ready to really throw myself into physical activity and making myself into the rest of the person I’ve been wanting to be for the last couple of years. But I’m not the girl for any guy going through his own crap right now, and it seems every guy I’ve been attracting of late digs me, is interested, but then they lapse into broken-man syndrome and decide they need to hole up and fix themselves.

Whatever. I know I’m sending the right signals. I know I’ll have more interest — I have too much to offer. I’m not worried. But in the meantime, you get what you get.

And in the meantime, I’ve got some good things and I’m grateful to be wise enough to know just how good things are becoming for me. Soon, I’ll find a way to turn all this self-analysis back into words worth digesting.

Ah, yes. My true calling: Dimestore philosopher. But for you… I’ll ask only a nickel.

I’ve been fighting some bug for a couple of weeks and it came raining down with a vengeance on me on Friday. I’ve spent my whole weekend largely being horizontal and lazy, and dreading work tomorrow.

I’ve had nothing to say, either. Such is the whole ‘not right in the head’ thing and all. Hopefully it’s a 48-hour thing and I wake up ready to take over the world Monday. In the meantime, some tea and peanut butter and toast meets my basic energy requirement right now.

And, oh, how I would kill for a massage. Sneeze. Cough. Back to my pressing agenda of horizontalness, blankies, and hydration.