When somebody knows you well, there's no comfort like that

This picture was shamefully stolen from Sarah of frecklesandfairytales.blogspot.com/ but since its me (and she's my best friend) I really don't think she'll mind. I can easily say that I am only making it through these first days of transition as smoothly as I am thanks to my incredible group of friends. From endless text messages to endearing emails and instant message chats, entirely too many drinks for a Wednesday evening and runaway trips on Sunday afternoons or unexpected support from people I figured had given up on me, I am surrounded by endless support. And I am entirely grateful and thankful.

Since I am now paying for a gym membership, I am trying to make the most of my freetime. Watching less tv, unless I am on an elliptical or treadmill or at least have weights in hand. Trying to read more (a co-worker's sons have lent me their Percy Jackson series and so far, I find them quite delightful!) and write more too. But I'm also trying to work on me more too. And that is not easy.

I told a dear friend Saturday night that my "first and main focus is to get my body, mind, heart and soul all into amazing shape this year". But let me tell you, finding ways to mute your inner critic and increase your personal view of your self-worth is not as easy as one might think. People who seem almost full of themselves I watch with awe now, because I don't know how to be that. I don't know how to not pick myself apart in the mirror.

In an issue of Redbook I was thumbing through a few weeks ago, it suggested you make lists of your life, other than "To Do" lists. Lists like 10 places you would like to go in your life. 15 Things you would like to try. The one that peaked my interest? 20 Things I Love About Myself.

So I tried to do it.

I could only list 17. Three slots sit open and empty. I keep waiting for something else to come to me.

I am mostly settled into my parent's home, which has been easy, but am still spending spare time back at my old house, packing up the last five years of my life, which has been very hard. More than once, I have broken down and sobbed (and for anyone who knows me, knows I don't often cry) and have even gone as far as to suggest to my mom (who took days off of work to help me pack) that we just burn the place down. She quickly dismissed it.

January was for letting go and mourning. February is for regearing and starting to rediscover what it means to be me, now. About to turn 29. About to be single again. March . . . well, I'll determine what March is for once I am a bit closer to it.

February is also for love. And while I may not be able to list 20 things I love about myself, I can come up with 28 people and things I love in my life.

Love list #1 Sarah

I'm starting with Sarah. Love, love, love her! I love her open heart and brilliant mind. She is extraordinarily talented, very ecclectic and entirely unique. Often attempted to be duplicated, but she is the original and those copycats pale in comparison. She knows my soul and hears what I am saying, even if the words never leave my lips. The energy surrounding her is intoxicating and it is no wonder why she is loved and leaned on by so many people. She is the kind of person you want to have in your world. I cannot imagine what my life would be like these days had I not ever met her.

Again, shamefully stolen from her. Hey, she has a MUCH better camera.

Pictures, dishes and socks . . .

   I should be packing right now. I am surrounded by piles - piles to keep, piles to store and piles to get rid of. I should be folding and placing and labeling and closing chapters of my life(such as the chapter of the lacy boy shorts that were never comfortable, yet somehow, I managed to own about twenty pairs of them) but instead, I am avoiding it all with great amounts of self-pity and procrastination.

   He moves out tomorrow. He'll get up, go to work, I'll get up, go to work and when I get off and come home, all of his stuff will be gone and with it, him. No last hug or kiss or even goodbye. And knowing this, I cannot stomach the idea of sleeping in this house one night without him. So theoretically, tonight is also my last night in the house. Our house.

Little Earthquakes

   I have been back and forth for the last week on whether or not I should even blog about the current status of my life. And because I haven't been able to decide, I couldn't seem to find words for anything else either. Instead of faking it, or denying it or avoiding it altogether, I have just kind of put the blogging on pause.

   Ugh.

   This last summer, I became reunited with a dear friend of mine from my sophomore year of high school. One afternoon, while we sat in a sushi restaurant in Portland, we tried our best to get caught up on the past 13 years of our lives that we'd missed out on. When it came time for me to ask him if he had any questions for me, he said, "No. I read your blog. I know everything I need to know."

  Since then, I have been wondering where to draw the line. What to keep posting here and what I should leave for the pages of my paper journal and the ears and shoulders of my friends. In the past, I have felt from time to time that acquaintences knew a bit too much about me because of what I wrote. They spoke to me in a knowing fashion that I wasn't comfortable with, simply because I didn't realize they knew what they knew. Of course, anything that I have written about was something that I felt like sharing. Still, when you are standing face to face with someone who recalls the nasty posts you wrote when you were 23 and still bitter about being dumped by an old boyfriend and decide to take it out on him and his new wife, well . . . where is the delete button when you need it most?

   However, what I am going through right now definitely is shaping and defining maybe rapid changes coming in my life. I only see it as fair to explain here, (because I do intend to try to keep updating more regularly here. I promise!) why these changes are in fact coming.

    My husband and I are separating. Divorcing, actually. Though paperwork has not been drawn up yet, the furniture and (more importantly) the DVD collection have been verbally split and by the end of the month, we will be living under different roofs. In the past week and a half, most of our conversations have been through text messages and the most time we have spent in person, in the same room together would be that one evening we were able to discuss the furniture and DVDs.

    It is a decision that I have been wrestling with for months and an issue that we have been both working on together and separately since the beginning of the fall. While I will provide him and myself with a bit of privacy as to the nature of the demise of our marriage, I will say that things just did not progress in the linear and positive manner that I had hoped it would for us when we took our vows two and a half years ago. Some of the fault is his and some of the fault is mine. I'd like to leave it at that.

    I have struggled through many ideas and feelings that held me captive for a long time. Guilt, for one. Guilt that I am unable to live up to those vows I took. Guilt that my parents paid as much as they did for our wedding. Foolishness, for another. I am a fixer, a mender. I wanted to fix him in ways that he didn't feel he needed to be fixed or wanted to be fixed. Foolish for not noticing things that were or were not happening around me. Fear as well. Fear for jumping back into singlehood, trying to make it in this world alone again (though my amazing circle of friends has not let me feel alone for even a second). Fear that I am ruining the only chance of love or happiness that I have in life. But I haven't been truly happy in a long time.

    The phrase "Fool or Failure" has been ringing in my head since August. A fool if I stay and a failure if I leave. Which is worse? I still haven't completely figured that one out, but I am hoping I can swallow failure and turn it into some other form of success later in life.

   So 2010 has begun as a year of massive and rapid change for me. But I knew that the moment I opened my eyes on January 1st, greeted by Coldplay's "Viva la Vida" on my 7am alarm clock. I am currently finding much comfort from my parents, Emily, Sarah, Kate, the girls at my salon and many other friends and solace in Sugarland, SheDaisy, Lady Antebellum, Crystal Light, sleeping and hour long workouts on the elliptical. I am hoping that come August of this year, I will have transformed my body, my personal outlook on myself and my life and the direction this adulthood is taking me in.

   In some ways, it is a tragedy. And in others, a rebirth, for both of us (though I know right now, that is the last thing he sees it as). But if nothing else, I just hope someday, we'll both be able to look back and smile, even if just faintly, recalling the good times. They are what I'd want us to remember most.