Trophy Wifedom

Where's my chauffeur? 

Fine, we're not technically married yet. But close. Besides, what else am I going to call my position? Trophy fiance? Trophy live in girlfriend? Trophy domestic partner? 

This is terrible. It hasn't even been a month and it's already getting to me. I've said for years that I wanted to be a trophy wife, but I always envisioned a city. or somewhere south. I wanted to go south! But as it is, I'm stuck in Alaska with no job, no car, and nothing to do. The one time I went hiking solo I was told by multiple people that I shouldn't go alone because bears. Fucking BEARS. This is my life now. 
Don't get me wrong, I'm truly in awe of this place; it's beyond imagination gorgeous. From my living room window. Luckily they're large windows, with a spectacular view of the mountains and ocean. But it's depressing. 

Back home, I was at least somewhat important. I loved my job, and the people I worked with, even if it wasn't perfect. I sang at church, and people hired me to sing at their weddings and funerals. They honored me with being part of some of the most wonderful, and trying, times of their lives. It was humbling, and I really tried not to take advantage of it or dismiss the gravity of what they were inviting me to. 
I'm nothing here. While Soldier is at work, I clean or try to come up with projects around the apartment. Half the time I don't even put makeup or real clothes on. (And for those of you that know me, you know that's a really big deal). I've made a few friends, but I'm basically reliant on somebody else if I want to do something, so I don't invite anyone to do anything. 
I also feel like I kind of have to justify my existence here, so I work really hard to keep the place immaculate and have dinner planned for him. We've been looking for a car for me, but it hasn't panned out and it crushes my hopes even more every time it doesn't work. 

Sitting around doing nothing makes me want to shop, which is really the opposite of what I should be doing. Granted, I know I could brave the bus system to look for and have a job. In all honesty, my snobbyness doesn't want that. I like metros. Metros mean big cities. I like big cities. How did I end up in Alaska? 

Okay. Sorry. I know exactly why I'm here, and I (obviously) would go anywhere with Soldier. I never envisioned this. Y'all know I'm a big believer in things happening for a reason. So...wtf? Why this? Why A-L-A-S-K-A? Maybe this is a lesson in humility. Or...I dunno, something else.

Fine, let me get to the crux of the matter tonight. My parents just sent up a few boxes of stuff I couldn't fit in my suitcases. One of them was filled with Christmas decorations. There's one ornament I have that's from my very first Christmas, when I was just a few weeks old in The Netherlands. I almost brought it in my carry-on when I came up here, because it's very sentimental to me. Almost immediately when I opened the box I found it crushed. And I was crushed. It was my own fault for not putting it in a box or something, but I hadn't thought of it at the time. For some reason I have a lot of emotion tied to that thing. Isn't it weird what objects we attach affection to? 
Of course all the other stuff has been building up; it didn't take long for me to not love being at home all day. I feel kind of detached from everything around me, like I still need to feel it out. And even the one time I went out by myself, it took me a lot of personal pep time to walk out the door. It's a good day when step out to check the mail or take the trash to the dumpster. 

I want to be completely clear that this is a pity party post. Actually...I like that. I might have to start using that for post titles. Anyway, I'm easily set off when there's already something gnawing away at me, and trying (failing) to bring the ornament back to life was very sad for me. 
Rest assured (if you care) that Soldier has been incredible with this. He knows I'm having kind of a rough time and keeps asking what he can do or how he can help. And he talks about the future, which I love. 

Sometimes growing up just sucks. A lot of the time. It's hard. Okay this isn't anything you all don't already know (I'm assuming. Gasp!). But I will openly admit that I don't like being pushed out of my bubble. There's a reason it's called the comfort zone. 

Soldier keeps coming out and trying to get me to come cuddle. He knows it makes me feel better. Is that tmi? Did it just get too touchy-feely? Eh, deal with it bitches. This is what I've been looking for since you and I first met. 
I've got the man, and I at least have an idea and some experience of the life I want. Now...I wish I had the ornament, and that little link to my beginning.