I have been thinking a lot about Chris lately. Even as I find this new life normal, I still feel surprised that my old life is gone. It still feels wrong. I imagine this is to be expected, but that never helps much. It was a long time to be with someone so completely, and whether my life was just as hollow then doesn't really matter, because it didn't feel that way. What I hear about him and from him since we ended makes me feel like he was better with me, and that makes me sad. It makes me sad for him, though I do not believe as others seem to that I was the reason he was ever any good. It also makes me sad for me, because I still put myself last. I do think he was better when he was with me, and I think I was better too, because I got to be some version of a parent, and that changed my world. I miss my family. We got split right down the middle: three and three, and I have only ones who can't talk back.
I have this empty picture holder that's the front of a house. All the window cutouts are meant for family photos. I've had this thing for years and always intended to do something fun with it. Right now it feels appropriate that it's empty, but it feels better to identify that my house is empty and that's why I'm sad. Remember when the skin under my eyes felt like tissue paper? I must be doing better now because I don't cry as often.
I feel compelled to argue with you about Chris. I know you feel like everything that happened just confirms what you just knew all along, and to that I'd like to extend a hearty middle finger. You've been reading this- you know what was there, along with everything I couldn't capture. I kept the bad stuff to myself for years, and I hope (I hope I hope I hope) that I have learned enough to do much better on my end of things in relationships to come. I wish I had never shared a lot of it, and I wish I had stopped it before I had any really bad things to tell.
So for my picture frame, I have been thinking about what I want in my house. I have come up with three things: plants, animals, and people. It's interesting having my own place. I find that I enjoy the solitude and the freedom more than I expected- so much that I do not want to move anywhere I'd have to give that up. But the loneliness is killing me. I have developed some good friendships here, but not nearly what I need, and I am at a loss. But as I sit here thinking about that, I'm suddenly comforted by my constant metaphor. I will pace by the pool for a long time, but when I'm ready, I will jump. Not wade, but jump. I am doing my research, I am considering options and advice. I will figure it out.
So that's better. My apartment is clean, my head is clear. I know what's in my heart, now that I wrote it down. I had a nice spaghetti & meatball dinner, and it's a short week at work. I went to another Meetup this weekend, making this the third Meetup weekend in a row. This one was the dog group, but it was kind of a bust. The guy who organized it got tired of seeing suggested meetups with no date, so he took the reins. Only me and one other woman showed up, and she didn't even find us. It was good, though- Riley and I met some dogs and people on a really lovely day at the biggest dog park in Reno. There were lots of people there, and we took a couple big laps around the park.
Today was quiet, but I finally got everything clean and vacuumed, then watched a Nat Geo show about the Battle for Midway. It made me cry to watch the veterans- two American and two Japanese men- accompany Titanic discoverer Bob Ballard on his mission to find their sunken aircraft carriers. The men hung out and reminisced together with no animosity or laughter- only gratitude and tears.
It is past my bedtime, so off I go, but thanks for listening.
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