Funny how I find my mind stuck on the details, the little things.
It's what I cling to, these little vestiges of him, to get me through the mania and chaos that is currently my life. I feel like I've strapped on the seatbelt, secured the helmet, and pushed the Eject Button. Hold on! I'm still in a constant state of being on the verge of vomitting or breaking down.
The check came from my parents.
Okay, can i say how embarrassing it is to ask your parents to pay for your divorce?
I ripped open the over night envelope, shoved the cashiers check in the very formal attorney envelope along with the signed agreement and sealed it's fate with the adhesive strip. I didn't want to even hold the check in my hand very long.
It had a postage stamp on the front. How convenient. All part of the luxury package I'd now secured with my $250 per hour, I'm sure.
I decide to drive it over myself.
It's a one mile drive and it was the longest fucking mile of my life.
But I need to do this.
I need to physically walk it in the door. I need to hand over that envelope as a symbol of gaining my life back. Getting myself back. Apparently it starts with $2,500. I wonder how much more it's going to cost me to have freedom, happiness and a sense of peace, and maybe love?
I fill my thoughts with random little tidbits of him. The other him. The beautiful him. The him that I love deeply. i keep touching the necklace around my neck. The one he gave me, the one he wore around his neck until he put it on me. I reach for it to find him, to feel him. To know he is there.
"Are you still there?"
I can only wonder when my parachute opens where I will land. Where will he land?
Too scary to think about sometimes.
I put those thoughts out of my head and focus on the mind candy. The last time we kissed. The shower where we laid hands on each other's hearts and promised to love each other forever. The feeling of sitting next to him on a bar stool. The little things...
I find that this disconnecting from him and no contact with him, five days later, has allowed me to move forward. It's made it okay to leave my bad marriage.
It's made that break in my mind and in my heart that this isn't about him.
It's about the abusive situation i should have left years ago. It's about choices that are better for me, and ultimately for my child. In the here and now, I'm not making these choices to be with someone else. I'm making these choices for this moment. This life I'm in, right at this moment.
What i know is this - Life is hard.
You're going to have to weather the storms. Sometimes they come at you when you least expect it. Sometimes you're the one choosing to walk into the eye of the hurricane. It's scary to put yourself in the thick of it when the safer option is just to sit back and wait for the weather, let it come to you. Being a storm chaser means risking it all and scaring the shit out of yourself in the process.
I guess I fancy myself a bit of a stormchaser right about now. I'm going headfirst into the eye of this storm and I know it's going to beat the shit out of me. But I still believe in what's possible when it all clears over.
I still know why I have to do this.
So it's the little things that keep coming alive for me. It's the little things that sustain me through storm.
As I laid in bed the other night, i thought about him laying next to me, left side of the bed.
Oh, wait....left side.
Does he always sleep on the left side?
Funny the first time we shared a bed together, we were back and forth between either side. There wasn't much sleeping going on!
But somewhere along the way, he found the left side and I the right side. And I started thinking about a lot of things like the way we walk and hold hands, he was typically on the left. How we sit at a bar, or on the couch, he was always on my left.
I have no idea what this means, except that it somehow feels like he is supposed to be there. On my left.
I went to parallel park the car yesterday as I am dropping off the paperwork that holds my freedom in a business envelope. Nothing on the right side, just a spot on the left side of the street.
I'm not as experienced parallel parking on the left side and I'm nervous. I need to walk these papers in, it's close to closing time and I need to park this car and take these papers in and go back to work.
I stop, take a deep breath and back the car easily into the space. The left side.......it's the left side. I somehow need this to mean something.....
The whole thing felt so symbolic somehow. Maybe I was reaching, maybe i was looking for the ceremony of it all. The end for my beginning. The sealed fate of that envelope.
I stick a quarter in the meter and start walking fast towards the mahagony front door that some other lost soul helped pay for with their price of freedom. Brass handle, expensive wood receptionist desk. Kind faced woman takes my papers and I want to say to her, "Deliver me...please god. Get me out of this shit fast...." Instead I just smile and head back to my car.
I reach for my necklace, with my left hand and wonder if he can feel it.
As I walk back to the car, i wonder if i've just walked ten steps closer to him...
(jblife-09)
