Crying in my Wine Whine...

I think I was born with extra tear ducts. Seriously, I cry at the drop of a
hat. I cry when I'm happy, sad, perplexed, joyful, worried and content.
Local news stories can make me sob at the breakfast table and I think
at this stage in the game my husband has learned to just pass the tissues
and not even question my latest waterworks.

I once had to do a "personality" quiz through work and most of the people
around me were scoring in the 90th percentile for "Leadership" or "Decisiveness"
or even "Communication." I scored in the 95th percentile for "Empathy."
What can I say, I was born this way.

I don't really recall when my call to the world of tears first became apparent.
My inner circle will know the extenuating circumstances that would certainly
support my hyper-sensitivity, but crying  because of a story I read or heard
seems a bit of a stretch. I'm not a pretty crier either. It's all red nose and snot
and wet sloppy tears.  Ah, to know me is to love me.

So if you ever need to just sit and have a good cry with someone, I'm your
girl. I'm a good listener and my vault of "secrets" is massive.

Somebody bring the tissues...and a good bottle of wine.

The 5 Stages of Grief Whine...

I have come to realize that I am going through my own stages of grief over moving
here. Don't get me wrong, the majority of my feedback support group thinks this
was a good  move, but the doubting section hasn't quite joined the bandwagon.

First there was Anger - "I can't believe we are &^%#@! moving again!"

Then there was Denial - "I am not selling anymore furniture, clothing or other such
belongings.I will never have another yardsale in my entire life. Bubblewrap is my
nemesis. There was partial acceptance along the way because we were moving
closer to our family and the thought that I would never have to shovel snow again....
then it hit me... I will never shovel snow again. I like snow.

I missed the Bargaining stage altogether while sipping/gulping my chardonney. My
arbitration skills are lacking any kind of depth of conviction and so I packed on.

The Depression Stage hit me about a week ago when I realized that I was not going
to be witnessing any type of season change through the beautiful and colorful
display of leaves just doing their fall thing in October. Sunshine became annoying
and I was really looking forward to a cold afternoon with a cup of hotchocolate.
Not going to happen. I won't have snow on Christmas morning and I won't get
to see TJ all red-faced from the cold after having a snowball fight with his friends.

I'm limping towards Acceptance...slowly. The one thing that trumps all of these

negative feelings is that we have FAMILY here and that my friends is priceless.

I will never take for granted the fact that if I need help, I can ask for it and I will

get it. No questions asked. I like the fact that I can help in return in an effortless

exchange of just being there for each other. After a particularly long day last week

I walked the one house over to my mother-in-law's with a glass of wine for

both of us and her smile and acceptance of me was the tonic I needed. When she

said, "You read my mind" I knew I had come home.