People have been asking me lately what I have been doing since George* left. True, we had not been in an actual relationship for upwards of 6 months. That's two birthdays, three trips home to my family and a holiday or two. We still outwardly portrayed everything a relationship is supposed to be.
When we were around people we laughed and joked and smiled and were perfectly pleasant with each other.
Behind closed doors was a different story. Behind closed doors we were marginally civil each doing the bare minimum we could do to keep the peace. Most of the time we existed on a very tight rope of civility and mutual respect of the other as a human being.
More often than not we fell into patterns of silent resentment and attitude. I still cooked dinner, did dishes and laundry and all the tasks that I did prior to our break up. He still played his video games, sometimes picked up around the house and took out the trash.
Ironically he helped more around the house in the last month of our "relationship" than he had the whole time we "were together."
It actually was appreciated.
Then he moved and although he claimed to be able to move in a day it has stretched into a week.
People have been asking me what I have been doing, if he's gone and some other very personal questions that frankly I feel they have no business asking as they don't pay my bills.
If they would like to pick one and pay it I will be glad to fix us some tea, sit down, and have a heart to heart with them.
So for the well meaning and only trying to be supportive few here is what I have been doing:
Putting my apartment back together. When you have lived with someone for almost a year and they move out things are a bit hectic and scattered and messy.
I have been working on this.
Not zealously and not devoting all my time to it. I'm taking my time, bit by bit, putting things where I want them, without regard to the opinions of another human being, going through things and getting rid of the ones I do not want anymore to make room for things that I do.
Things that represent me.
Who I am.
Something that I usually, sometimes unknowingly, sacrifice for the person in my life.
So that is what I am doing.
I am putting my life together. I am finding my peace. I am finding, for the first time since I've moved in, MY home.
*In No way Shape or Form his name.
Friday, August 22, 2014
Monday, August 18, 2014
Today....
Normally my days start out fairly normal. I picked Clara* up and we go to work. I get to work, have my oatmeal and coffee, maybe orange juice if I've remembered to buy some at the shop and start my mornings work.
Routine. My comfort.
I love the predictability of my routines, the ebb and flow of a life I try to construct perfectly. Like an orchestra of emotions, actions and consequences.
Life isn't perfect though. Is it?
Life is a roller coaster of twists and turns and belly rolls and yes, sometimes, even crashes.
My roller coaster crashed this weekend.
This weekend filled with so much emotional upheaval and heart breaking emotions that even if I wanted I couldn't name.
I came out on the other side. A little bruised, a lot broken, and trying to get my routines back in line.
But this morning.
I'm not hungry.
I don't fix my oatmeal, or my coffee, and I didn't pick up orange juice at the shop.
I sit here at my desk and stare at my computer, knowing I should be doing something but lacking the energy to even try.
There are files to process, books to balance and financials to print.
And I can't seem to find the will to start them.
Routine. My comfort.
I love the predictability of my routines, the ebb and flow of a life I try to construct perfectly. Like an orchestra of emotions, actions and consequences.
Life isn't perfect though. Is it?
Life is a roller coaster of twists and turns and belly rolls and yes, sometimes, even crashes.
My roller coaster crashed this weekend.
This weekend filled with so much emotional upheaval and heart breaking emotions that even if I wanted I couldn't name.
I came out on the other side. A little bruised, a lot broken, and trying to get my routines back in line.
But this morning.
I'm not hungry.
I don't fix my oatmeal, or my coffee, and I didn't pick up orange juice at the shop.
I sit here at my desk and stare at my computer, knowing I should be doing something but lacking the energy to even try.
There are files to process, books to balance and financials to print.
And I can't seem to find the will to start them.
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