That basically sums up my past few months. I don't delve into too many deeply personal issues on here and maybe that will change, but for now I'm putting a lot of stuff to pen and paper and leaving the internet be. But I just had a long talk with an old friend and this person was in a situation very similar to the one I just got out of, so I figured I'd put this out there and hope that at least one person felt a little less alone because of it.
This blog started as a fun way to get me writing again, to let relatives/friends know about my status and about how my baby boy was doing, and to vent a little bit about the things going on in my life. As with most things, I didn't follow through like I should have, I didn't post as much as I could have, but when I did get posts up people seemed to enjoy them and relate to them, and that made me happy.
But a lot of what I was writing was...well, not outright lies, but more veils over the reality of what was going on in my life. A few months ago, my seven year marriage ended. I could go on and on about the reasons and the blame and the fights and the hurt feelings, but the fact is, that would only be my side of the story, and I would probably try to make myself look good.
Come on. I'm human.
But right now I think what I'll write about isn't the struggle the last few months have been (and trust me, they have been a struggle. I never realized how cushioned my life was until now) but I'd rather write about where I am right now, almost four months after leaving my home, the adorable yellow cottage I fell in love with the minute I laid eyes on it.
I've moved, twice. I've found a new apartment and set it up for myself and my son, and I've tried to create a new normal for us. I've reached out to family and friends and I've rarely been disappointed. I've tried to figure out how to ask for help, even knowing that it's there, and I just can't get the words out because I don't know exactly what it is I need. I've played games and had talks and hugged my son a lot. I've gotten hit on and felt invisible all at the same time. I've wondered if I did the right thing, and tried to trace back to the exact moment when things went wrong, and wondered if I could have stopped this disastrous chain of events.
At the end of the day and after all the talks and all the introspection and all the wondering, I'm left with the same answer: I don't know. But I do know I couldn't continue the life I was living, and be true to myself, or be the kind of mom I want to be. I have an amazing son, and he has a good father. We all deserve happiness in life, and we were headed down the wrong path.
I don't know what the point of writing this was. Maybe I wanted to feel better about my life. It's very hard to look at your surroundings and know this wasn't what you had in mind, and know you have to re-imagine your future. My days are filled with moments of self doubt, loathing, being completely overwhelmed, and fighting back tears.
But they're also filled with smiles, and unexpected kind words, and laughter, and freedom. They're filled with the reassurance that no matter how alone I feel, people who love me are only a phone call away, and that there is a new life out there for me. My family is incredible, funny, and supportive, but they're not soft. They're not going to let me sit and feel sorry for myself, or whimper about what might have been. During a recent text conversation with my sister, she asked me what I wanted for Christmas. I said I wanted my life to be back to normal. Her response? "Get a grip. The only way your life is going to get better is if YOU make it better."
Rough? Yeah. True? Very. What I needed to hear? Absolutely. So here I go. I'm throwing a metaphorical bandanna tied to a stick over my shoulder, taking my child's hand, and forging ahead into our new life. I'm scared, excited, angry, doubtful, hopeful, and looking forward.
To quote Hot Water Music, no regrets. No looking back to sinking ships.