to have and to hold

If I were the type to dole out unsolicited advice - and who am I fooling, I am - I would tell anyone who would listen that it's ill-advised to start up a new job while single. It is much worse if that new job comes after voluntarily leaving a job you had for more than half a decade, a job you happened to have loved. Because you will get home every evening that first week, and there will be no partner to talk to about it. No one to convince you that you made the right move, to remind you why you left in the first place, to tell you that you rock.

You will miss your colleagues who became friends, colleagues you relied on to share a quick bitch session with and move on from the doldrums and laugh off whatever absurdity has befallen you; if you work in government, there are many, many absurdities. These are the moments that coming home to your spouse, to someone who will simply hold you, get you through the tough spots. Yes, you miss those people, but here are a pair of arms to hold you, a comfy shoulder to cry on, and eager ear to listen.

That's the stuff I miss. I miss hugs from someone who weighs more than 75 lbs. Someone who can listen and actually understand what I'm saying. Someone for whom I'm not entirely responsible. Someone who can carry me a bit in the rough patches.

I have friends - and they are great. And they have supported me through a lot these two years. And have been there for me and with me through the insanity of my renos (and continue to support me). But it's just not the same when you come home to an empty house, or to two little kids who need you to be on. I'm running out of energy to be on. I just want someone to have and to hold right now.