I was chat-texting with my dad this morning and when I told him everywhere I was hopping around to today on the jet, he said, ‘That could be something you put on Where Is Rachel?’ And then I spent the following thirty minutes looking for the lie because he’s not wrong.

I should be writing weekly about my adventures. I’ve been wanting to write and post but I’ve been feeling in a funk, like I’m lacking creativity. Perhaps, I’ll blame it on Mercury going retrograde. 

So Where Is Rachel? Well, currently I’m beginning my descent into Dallas-Fort Worth from Houston. In a couple of hours, I’ll be en route to New Windsor, NY before laying my head down (and probably finally posting this) in Lebanon, NH. 

But where have I been mentally? That’s a good damn question and I’m going to try my best to be honest with myself and do some digging to answer it. I apologize in advance if I talk in circles, babble, or don’t come to any exciting conclusions. 

I guess if I’m going to break this down I should do it in segments of home, friends, family, and work. 

Let’s start with home. 
I’m 35 and I have two roommates. Wow. That kind of sucks when you see it in writing. But I also pay pennies in rent and they watch after my dog, Sophie, and my cat, Kitty, while I’m gone. However, one of the roommates is an utter slob and while he doesn’t spill his slob into our common areas (anymore), he does other things that irritate the ever-living fuck out of me. For starters, while he never cleans his room, he also never cleans the rest of the house either. Therefore, before my newest (most perfect) roommate moved in, I would come home from being on the road and in the air for two weeks to two weeks worth of house cleaning to do. He didn’t get the hint watching me put down my suitcase and pick up a Swiffer and the Windex so then I texted him about it, which lead to a minor argument about how he swept. Cool, did you clean the clean the bathroom? Did you Swiffer WetJet the floors? Did you dust? Did you sweep the front porch? Did you take the trash and recycling out? Ok, so you literally pushed dirt around. Cool. 
So I made a cleaning schedule and posted it on the refrigerator. No big deal. The three of us either were or are currently in the food and beverage industry and if you’ve ever been in the industry, you know there is always a cleaning checklist nearby. I didn’t think a grown man could take such offense to a helpful list to reference. Now, this list is minuscule! It’s roughly two or three things to do each day, Monday through Friday, that take around the same amount of time for water to boil for your morning French press and range from sweeping and tossing out old items from the fridge to ‘Febrezing the fuck out of the house’. I would come home from rotation and the list would be off the fridge and placed on top. One day it was missing altogether so I texted him. Holy fucking shit. He found it condescending and rude  and ‘we know what needs to be cleaned’. You want to know what I find condescending and rude? YOU BEING A LAZY PIECE OF SHIT AND NOT PULLING YOUR WEIGHT IN THE HOUSE. OH! YOU KNOW WHAT NEEDS TO BE CLEANED? THEN FUCKING DO IT! Needless to say after some texts, the list is now back where it belongs. 

But it’s just not that. He ALWAYS has something to say about the cost of utilities. On average they run about $80-$100/person but in the hot, Charleston months it can go up higher. No thanks to our crooked utility company’s price gouging. So guess what? He bitched when the utilities were higher. JESUS FUCKING CHRIST. Every damn year, you know the utilities are going to be higher in the summer months and maybe one month during our ‘winter’. BUDGET. But that would require him to plan ahead and the fact that he doesn’t even swap his laundry from the washer to the dryer within a reasonable about of time doesn’t make me believe he would have the wherewithal to budget. 

But this is my situation until Sophie ‘goes to college’ because I need my roommates help with her care while I’m gone. 

Friends. Hmmm. I’ve got plenty of them, mostly scattered along both coasts but I do have a small circle in Charleston that I wouldn’t mind making even smaller. That’s right. I want to break up with a couple of my friends. They’ve done nothing directly to me but they’re energy suckers. One particular friend doesn’t really like her boyfriend but he buys her things so she sticks around. She says it’s not about the stuff but I’m no dummy. She spends her time on Bumble and has been excitedly texting an old friend from back home yet STILL HAS A BOYFRIEND. She’s at an age where she doesn’t want to be without a boyfriend so, like a monkey and a branch, she won’t let go of one until she has another one to grab onto. Additionally, she always has some sort of ailment. BITCH. Put down the cocktail and have a glass of water. Lose the cocaine and Adderall and take a multi-vitamin and probiotics. GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP. Wake up and get some goddamn exercise. But she doesn’t listen so I’m tired of talking. I’ve got too much shit to do than to repeat myself whenever I see you.

Then this other friend. I’m having a hard time supporting her lifestyle. She’s not an alcoholic. She doesn’t do drugs. She has kids. Three of them. Two boys. One pre-teen daughter. The boys live with their dad and her daughter with her. However, she spends the majority of her time with her boyfriend, often spending the night at his house instead of going home! She’s always texting me when ‘my niece’ has done something atrocious like getting suspended from school for being the ‘queen’ of a bully ring, sneaking boys in the house when she’s at work, cutting her own bangs or shaving her eyebrows. Well, here’s my advice to her every time. GO HOME TO YOUR KID. Pay more attention to her than your boyfriend WHO RECENTLY BROKE UP WITH YOU. That’s right, they broke up after he spent weeks thinking about it, discussed it with his family, and scheduled an appointment with his family therapist. ‘I don’t picture myself marrying you. I don’t see you as ‘my forever.’’ Wow. Ok. But less than a long weekend later, they were back together. HOW DO YOU GET BACK TOGETHER AFTER THAT!? He says he ‘just said those things’. For what reason? In hopes that it hurt her so much that she wouldn’t talk to you because you’re a spineless jellyfish and knew with enough ‘whys’ and ‘buts’ you would crack and get back together with her. Additionally, he’s moving to Denver for culinary school, leaving her behind. That was the premise of the break-up to begin with and then he threw in the ‘not my forever’ for good measure! I give it until January and then he’s going to call and break up with her. Again. But I’m glad he’s leaving. What kind of man allows a woman to spend so much time away from her children? What kind of man sees and hears how her children are behaving and doesn’t say, ‘you need to stay home and handle this’ or after two years say ‘let’s take care of this together’? I guess someone that doesn’t picture himself with this woman forever. I’m truly trying to make this a ‘not my circus, not my monkeys’ situation but I’m finding it difficult. So I’m going to have to distance myself. 

Next on the list? Family. Family is family I guess. I chat with everyone regularly but I suppose I keep an arm’s length away. It’s not that I don’t need them, it’s just I don’t know how they could help me when I’m not sure what I need. Maybe I need to see my dad more often and begin to be ok with him dating my mom’s best friend although it still stings. Maybe I should talk to my bio-dad about it being 2019. Or maybe less about that and more about flying since that seems to be one of the only things we have in common. I miss my mom everyday and some days are harder than others but I’m not sure if that will change. Shit, it’s been five and a half years! My sister is on a two year run of bad luck and tragedy and it’s made her a bit of a paranoid worrier. I want nothing more than to help her understand that the things she worries about probably will never come to fruition and she’s wasting precious time stressing out instead of enjoying her day at that moment. She recently purchased a new home with her fiancé. Is she running around her new house naked with him celebrating this new chapter in their lives together or is she freaking out about boxes that need to be unpacked? My guess is the latter. She should really use CBD oil. 

And now we’re onto work. Work is the only consistent thing in my life right now that doesn’t give me stress however, I’m not sure if it’s making me 100% happy. I’ve been with the company now for a year and I’m certainly content. I love the travel. I love staying in hotels. I don’t mind a carry-on suitcase lifestyle. Hell, even when I do get home, I’m taking off to the next destination. But it’s lonely out here. I don’t have a boyfriend to share my day with but I’m glad I don’t either. Would I be jealous that he was out having a good time without me when I’m stuck in a hotel in Teterboro, NJ? Probably definitely hell yes. There also isn’t much of a routine in this industry. It’s hard to have structure when you have flights scheduled at all times of the day and night and those surprise pop-up trips can really throw a wrench in your plans. You have to have a lot of willpower to pull yourself into the gym after a max duty day and minimum rest. I have met a lot of interesting people, though. And this career provides me the time to travel more or pursue other endeavors like writing a sitcom. (More on that later. Like when I sit back down to tackle it some more.) At one time, this is exactly what I wished for. I should relish in this major accomplishment and milestone in my life. 

That’s where I am. Here I am. I’m running at about 70% and hoping that airing out the other 30% will make me feel whole again. Maybe I’ll find that person that understands and supports my lifestyle. Or maybe I won’t. I’m actually ok with that. Maybe my bio-dad will stop sending me pro-republican emails (doubtful) and send more aviation emails. Maybe I’ll learn to make things ‘not my problem’ but I fear I’ll disassociate completely or come off as someone who isn’t compassionate. Maybe I’ll set my alarm an hour earlier and force some sort of routine in my crazy aviation lifestyle. Maybe I’ll edit this over a dirty martini with an olive and an onion, post it, and just BE.