It's a Saturday in mid-June when I write this. The kids are at work. My mom, who lives next door, is away for a couple weeks. The sun is shining. The breeze is blowing. The birds are singing and chatting.
I slept in this morning, a result of too much wine last night (but really, can you ever have too much wine??), then watched the recording of Formula 1 Qualifying. By noon, I have proofread a prologue for a writer friend, messaged several friends and my mom, and have had my fill of trolling Facebook.
I'm still in my nightgown. And I just had lunch, leftovers that my friend and her husband whipped up for me on the day of my burning ceremony.
Perhaps most importantly, the dogs are content to have me just sit here and do nothing.
Six months ago, I would have been crawling out of my skin trying to figure out what to do with myself. Six months before that, I would have been cranky with anxiety over what "we" should do, and about how grumpy my husband would get when I made a to-do list that required him to put down the PlayStation controller.
Today, I'm at peace.
Do I wish I could be out on Violet (my motorcycle, for those who aren't familiar)? Absolutely. But I'm still recovering from a fractured radial head and haven't been given clearance from my doctor to ride, so I'm trying to behave.
Do I have a to-do list in my head that includes cleaning the kitchen, getting the basement ready for the stray teenager who needs a home, weed-whacking, turning in my school assignments, finishing the proofreading project, writing, reading up on how to write a non-fiction self-help book, cleaning the grill, painting furniture, doing laundry...not to mention the two graduation parties I plan to attend today?
Should I shower and get dressed? Should I dig through my notebooks to find the outline for my non-fiction book that I wrote a couple years ago? Should I organize my office that is a cluttered mess? Should I clear the fridge of the science experiment that fills the house with a sinister aroma every time we open the door?
I don't feel compelled to do any of this, at least not at the moment. And I'm not overwhelmed or anxious about all of these things that should get done. For me, that is a huge leap.
My house is a mess. That's on me. I haven't nagged or even asked the kids to help clean up. I don't have another adult in the house for whom I am waiting to show some initiative and clean up without being asked or directed. I don't have to sit and wonder if he gives a shit about the state of chaos.
The most liberating part of this scenario, is I can do whatever I want, whenever I want and I don't have to ask him to join me or ask what he wants to do and ultimately be disappointed when he says he just wants to chill and play his video games.
At some point toward the end of our marriage, I had actually given up asking him to do anything. There were times when he agreed to do things...as a family we would go for a hike, or go kayaking, sometimes go to see a movie. And he was always grumpy about it. He didn't want to explore or go off the beaten path, and when we stopped to relax, there was always that tension just rolling off him, like he didn't want to be there. He was short-tempered and gave off the vibe that he was ready to go home. So I stopped asking. I bought my motorcycle and started going on my own adventures, leaving him to play his video games and start day drinking as soon as afternoon rolled around.
I don't miss those feelings...the anxiety, the tension, the disappointment. And surprisingly, I don't miss him.
It has taken months, and I still have issues of anger and sadness that stem from his betrayals, and I have so many unanswered questions that continue to haunt me, but it has been 8 months and 10 days since I told him we were getting divorced and gave him notice to move out and I am living my best life, filled with happiness and peace on my best days and on most days.
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