A quest to make sense of it all. Or a sense to make a quest of it all.

Monday, October 11, 2010

So much can change in a year, so much has changed in a year.

So it's been a year now since the first days of Luke's and my separation. I have some things to say.

I can:
write, bake, sing (a little), whittle, play viola, groom a poodle, do cartwheels and backbends and roundoffs, file taxes, change a tire, do an oil change, fry chicken, tell you about Roth IRA's, read a map, start a fire, crochet, draw, make from-scratch biscuits without a recipe, identify pottery sherds, use a GPS to map an archeological unit, refund overdraft fees, hold my own in a political debate, tell a joke, walk in stilettos, stay quiet through a whole movie, surrender the remote and not sulk, grow tomatoes, pick out the right melons and avocados, play steering-wheel keyboard, drop it like it's hot, and keep a secret. Among other things.

And really, all I wanna do is share a genuine smile with someone I feel fireworks for.

It may be a long time, because while I feel alive inside again, I'm scared as hell. It's still raw. But there's hope again. I went months without it. I flitted around and flirted and told my friends I was "just fine, hangin' in there", and every second of it was empty. Just existing from one day to the next. It's unbelievable that we give other people so much power over us, and I'm terrified that the next person I love will hurt me like the engineer did. I can say it now: it hurt. I did the worst possible thing I could have by jumping straight into that relationship. I told myself I was over the trauma of the divorce, but I wasn't. Not being in love with Luke didn't change the fact that the person who had been my partner for nearly a decade wasn't there anymore, and I should have grieved properly before looking to Michael. Instead I pushed it down and then when that relationship crashed, I had not one but two traumas to deal with.

This past year has taught me things about faith and restoration and the nature of love itself, and I don't mean just romantic love, but love for yourself and family and for your friends. It would be easy to start waxing (happy rainbow puppies!) platitudes right now, but I'm not going to. Life is real, it's so hard, and the only way I'm going to make it through is by forgiving and loving in spite of the reasons not to. Faith is believing in what you haven't seen yet. My faith is a new baby colt taking its first shaky steps...but it is up and getting around. And it's a quiet, legitimate hope so unlike the frantic fireball of last year's hope I was feeling right before I met MH. It sustains.

No comments: