Some of you reading this know what happened, and the rest of you don't. Let's just say it is what it is (a phrase I've been accused of overusing) and leave it at that, because in this particular situation, at this particular time in my life, it's quite the perfect phrase.
I'm not here to overshare or rant or rage or lament my losses or failings or mistakes or regrets. I'm not here to overshare or rant or rage or lament his losses or failings or mistakes or regrets. I have more appropriate outlets for that, and hopefully he does too. What I'm here to do is share what it's like to live around the edges of this new life, tiptoe around them, because let me tell those of you who haven't been down this path before, it is particularly painful. Life as I knew it doesn't exist. It's both heartbreaking and exhilarating at times—though right now the exhilarating moments are outnumbered by the heartbreaking ones. But I know the balance will shift someday.
What made me decide to open up about this now, five months (and two days, but who's counting?) after my life changed so dramatically? I don't think it was the timing, though five is my lucky number. No, it was something about this evening's walk home.
I was walking home from Whole Foods along Ravenna and something compelled me to cross the street and walk down the middle, through the grass. It rained today, and though it was warm and humid, the grass was still just slightly cool and damp, and I was wearing sandals. How long has it been since your toes were tickled by cool, damp grass? It seemed to me that I hadn't felt that feeling since I was a child, though I know that isn't the case. It felt so good it made me smile out loud, in public and everything. And then I looked ahead of me, at the rows of trees flanking the median, the sun shining through the leaves, and I felt compelled to take a picture. And then I felt compelled to share it with you, all of it. Because the old me wouldn't have crossed the street, wouldn't have felt the grass tickle her toes or, though she may have taken the photo and posted it, wouldn't have shared the rest of the picture with you.
These days when I'm compelled to do something, I pay attention. Historically I'm pretty bad at paying attention to my feelings and emotions, as even my close friends will tell you. I used to shut them away safely in a box deep inside, under- or unexamined. But at this time in my life—when so much has gone, not wrong, but sideways, maybe—I feel like everything is more easily felt, more clearly seen. And though I am still chock full of sorrow and disappointment and heartbreak that he and I are not still heading down the road of life together, hand in hand, I know that along this same road there will still be love and laughter, joy and pain, hope and companionship, beauty and emotions, embraced. And someday, with luck, a new hand to hold.
For what seems like the first time, I am recognizing and feeling my emotions. And doing so is turning out to be a very good thing for me.
PS: After I wrote this, I went for a run around the lake. Emotions, as my running buddies will tell you, also make me FAST.
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