Moving On

I've always said that moving on is the hardest part. I cling to the past, even when it's bad, I romanticize it, ignoring the 99 bad things to focus on the good. I guess that's a form of denial, although I don't deny the existence of the bad things. They're just not as important to me as the good things.

It is funny however, how life will decide for you. A turn of events has come about quickly, which will enable me to get a new car, which I sorely need. A turn of events has come about at work, which may or may not be meaningful, possibly a sign of things to come. Discord. Disgruntledness. That might not actually *be* a word but it is an indicator of my growing dissatisfaction with my job, and my willingness to let it go.

I have even decided if I have to leave Richmond, so be it. There is nothing keeping me here. Even the dread of starting again is not enough to keep me here. I realize that I now feel exactly like I felt in FL. Completely and utterly alone.

I clung to hope that Steven would turn around and realize what he's done. But it's too late. I imagined myself asking him, "how can you fix what's broken? How can you heal the scars you carved into me?" and my own answer comes, he can't. He doesn't have the height or depth or strength to even try. He doesn't care enough, he doesn't have the courage. He is too afraid, and too weak. He is not the man for the job. He wouldn't even try.

So, I know he won't try to right his wrongs. And I know can never trust him again, even though I want to. In truth, I think I fear I'm at a place where I know who he is (terrifying). I never wanted to accept all the shit he pulled...but it's plain. The light has been shined into all the little cracks. And I think I might be far enough away from it now to focus and see who he really is.

I still want to lie and make excuses and say he was experiencing a nervous breakdown or a midlife crisis or somesuch. But you know....? No one excuses me for anything. Life judged me damn harshly, and I think he should be weighed on the same scale. When have I been protected or excused from anything?!?

I think I wasn't excusing him, but myself- refusing to admit that I loved someone who was so terrible, I protected him to deny that I could have been so wrapped up in something so bad. I tried to put a pretty bow on it.

Well...it might be time to cut my losses, and run.

A new car is a good thing. That will reassure me a little that I'm still as good as everybody else. Some normalcy, Yay. It will ensure I can go hiking every weekend (or as often as I care to drive 2 hours). Or go to DC (as often as I care to drive 2 hours).

I've been looking at houses too, although not seriously. But buying a car has made buying a house seem more doable. The market is recovering slowly and I'm hoping when I get out from under the bankruptcy, I can take advantage of one of the many homebuyer programs out there. There is a house near me, decrepit to be sure, but I had so much fun imagining how I would improve it and make it charming and lovely. My own little place, replete with sunbeams and butterflies, clean windows and brass pots hanging in the kitchen. I know it's just a dream, but that dream seems closer now, for some reason.

Yes: I've started to dream again, and that is good. These dreams don't include Steven. That's good too. It's sad but healthy progress, and a milestone I realized I had to cross after Dennis. Here it is, again. Another river to ford. It breaks my heart to leave him behind but I guess I have to.

That's okay. I'm not afraid to get wet. I've been wet before. I never melted.

I realize my self esteem was greatly damaged by him, especially after being artificially inflated by him. Nothing about that was real, it was all flattery. And so, what a fall! Ouch. I took a tumble there. I'm now left fat and pale and veiny and lumpy, alone, and exposed in front of everyone. How did that happen??? I was just a goddess...!

Well, Fuck.

Do I hate him for throwing me out of a moving car? You bet your ass I do.

But I take consolation in knowing, someday my audience will be picking themselves up off the roadside, scratched, bleeding, fat, pale and lumpy and veiny. Someday, someone is going to throw HIM out of a moving car. And he better pray it's a metaphorical one, and not a real one.

At the same time, I feel the stirrings of the old "me" inside. I know I'll recover. I'm still in there.

I just made some clams and shrimp. I haven't had that in so long! Wow, just smelling the clams, so much like the ocean, was so wonderful. Stunk so bad and meant so much to me! A world, in a whiff. Yes I knew how to buy them, how to keep them, how to cook them and how to eat them, because that's something that is "Of" me. That's my heritage. I still have salt water in my veins, and that will never change. In eating them, I felt like "me" again. It was a sacrament, and made me strong.

I recently had some emails on Facebook with Henry Frankel from home. I haven't seen him in 20 years!!! It was so amazing to talk to him again. It truly made me happy. I saw Mr. Kalman on Main Street too, on Friday...I just love him. It made me so happy to see him again. And yesterday I went out with Ann, a Richmond friend. She is in a place where she also made a choice with her heart and not her head (as I have done so many times)). She knows she's sacrificing herself, but I identified with that so sincerely; I don't know if she knows how much I have sacrificed myself too. But I really did understand. And I took comfort in knowing that we shared that. It feels like support.

These are all little points of contact that aren't about him. These are my people and my things. And they empower me.