Malted Milk v.2

Before I had this blog, I had another more, shall we say, basic blog. It was fun, but it didn't have nearly the bells and whistles I have now. 

Even though this blog was very basic, I seemed to write some deep stuff. Pretty deep for someone who isn't deep. 

Just a few days ago I found this little piece I wrote at a time in my life when I was clearly feeling lonely. Ha!

I decided to repost it here, not because I think it deserves to published multiple times, but because I feel so grateful that all the things I worried would never come true, actually have. 

As of yesterday, I have entered my "marriage month" and I couldn't be happier about it. It feels as though all the things I wrote about in this post have come true. I can see my future and it certainly looks bright. 

Also-- it is beyond funny to me that I wasn't a grocery shopper back then....I basically live in the grocery store now!

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A few days ago, while in the grocery store, I purchased a bottle of malted milk powder. I love malted milkshakes and really didn't even know that you could buy powder to make them yourself.

I read the back of the bottle and it said it could be added to milk or into a milkshake. I thought I’d give it a whirl and add it to some milk that I had put into the cart just moments earlier. Seemed kinda like fate that I found this malted milk powder so soon after picking up the milk. (As you may or may not know, I don't really grocery shop, so this may be a totally normal pairing for some, but for me--it's a big deal)

Tonight I cracked open the malted milk. I stood in the kitchen of my apartment and took down a glass. I poured the milk, I added the powder. I tasted it. Too weak. More powder. Stirring. Just perfect.

And then I stood in my tiny kitchen and listened. Nothing. No sounds. I looked down at my solitary glass of milk and then around the kitchen. Still nothing. I returned the milk gallon to the fridge and went into my bedroom with the glass to enjoy it and watch TV.

But I didn't watch TV. I just sat on the bed and thought a lot about that glass of milk. I thought about how nice it is to have a little treat at the end of the day. I thought about how cool it is that they make malted milk powder (still not over it, obviously) and then I thought about the silence. But I also thought about how other people may be enjoying their end of the day treat. Maybe with friends. Maybe with their kids. Their spouse. Maybe with co-workers.

I think I should say here that I don't like self-pity. It's annoying and quite frankly, not productive at all. But sometimes it's hard to not acknowledge the down and dirty truth and just plain feel bad about it.

I'm not really an emoter either. I don't like crying in front of people or spilling my guts to anyone who will listen. I tend to keep it inside and work through things myself. I am constantly doing the self-talk, reminding myself that everything is okay, justifying my life and my decisions and remaining grateful for the many blessings I have.

But tonight as I sit on my bed with my glass of milk and my silence I realize that in less than 2 months I will be 30. I always thought that by now everything would be different. Tonight I realize it's the same.

Here is a secret. Sometimes, when I am at the store or the mall or just out and about, I see other women with lives that look desirable. I look at them and in my mind I say something like this:

"Hey lady! You look a lot like me. I have those tight jeans you're wearing. I carry that purse in the summer. My sunglasses are the same as yours. We look so much alike, but you have more than the material things. I want that. When will it be my turn!?"

I imagine a life different from mine all the time. I make lists, I change things about myself. I am friendly and positive. I listen to people when they talk. I deal with the crap. I act right. I keep my morals in place...but sometimes it feels like it's for not.

I think about all the people I know who did things that I would consider despicable. Choices that I would never make.... and you know what? Today 9 out of 10 of those people have what they want. It's kind of like that saying, "The nice guy (or gal) finishes last."

I wonder if maybe I should have been more daring these past ten years. Maybe I should have thrown caution to the wind more often and taken risks. Not cared what people thought. Forgot about letting others down. Just did it.

But I didn't. I lived very differently and my life today, in some ways, is a reflection of those methodical choices. I can't truly say that living a life opposite of mine would have really mattered. Maybe my cards have been dealt this way. I just don't know.

What I do know is this-- tonight I drink my malted milk alone. No noise. No crying child, no blasting TV, no requests of me or complaints directed at me. No comfortable exchanges. No bedtime stories. I will go to bed with my cat. I will wake to the same silence I hear tonight.

Maybe one day (soon or not) my days of drinking malted milk alone will seem like a distant memory. But that won't be tonight and it probably won't be tomorrow night. And who knows? I might be enjoying these small treats on my own for a long time. I might enjoy that comfort and predictability.

But I'll let you in on another secret: I'd trade all that comfort in to find out what it's like to pour two, three or even four glasses of milk each night.