You know, sometimes I really get a big kick out of watching Grace and Frankie.  There are times when I feel like Grace – in need to be in control of things, caring too much about what others may think – and there are times when I feel like Frankie – a complete free spirit with confidence in who she is with no remorse or concern with what others may think.  Lately, I’ve been feeling a lot like Grace and less like Frankie.

I’ve been thinking about the finality of moving out of the house and into my own space, and it’s weird.  I’ve been back knowing that I no longer live there, wondering why the feelings have permeated through the hard shell I’ve built up to keep them out.  I try not to feel anything, but it doesn’t always work.  I know that at the end if the day I have to face my feelings and deal with them head on, and there have been some realizations come about regarding my relationship.  I’m not ready to make them known yet, and they may never see the light of this page at all.  But they are certainly present, and I’m glad I’ve been able to talk to family and friends about them.  Hell, being able to be with and talk to family and friends in general has been wonderful and healing.

I guess now comes step two – moving out.  I’ve been ready to do this for a solid week and have been kicking myself for not starting my lease this weekend instead of next weekend.  Then I think of the things that happened over this weekend and sort of feel better.  Friday I went out with my Texas bff and watched as firemen in kilts played the bagpipes and drums.  They came from all over to play at the Keep Tradition Alive day in Lewisville, and you know what?  I felt like I was at home in Cleveland on Saint Patrick’s Day.  I had goosebumps and chills, and I was so happy.  Last night I went to a Rangers game with a couple of co-workers, and we had a blast (it was a hell of a game, too – grand slam home run, extra innings, and a walk off homer to win the game!).  Then we went to a local place to play some pool and have a couple drinks.  It was a really late night, but it was worth it.  I need times and moments like those because I really do genuinely lose myself in the moment and enjoy spending time with my friends.

As things get more real and more final this week, I know I’ll have to deal with my thoughts and emotions and catalogue them in a way that you would catalogue books.  I pray for the courage to keep on keeping on and power through my week.  I know there’s a reward/light at the end of the tunnel.  All I need to do is remind myself that tomorrow is a new day, and that means a clean slate.


The Unknown

I’d like to think that I’m generally a pretty strong person.  Once I make my mind up about something, I go do whatever that something is, and I do my best to be at peace with it.  Tonight, however, is different.  I seem to have lost my strength at the moment.

A couple of weeks ago, the boyfriend and I broke up.  We had been together for three and a half years.  We had been living together in his house, a house I thought was great, but something didn’t seem right for whatever reason.  Once the breakup happened and I packed some stuff to stay with my aunt and uncle, I came to realize that it was me.  Over this last weekend, I packed up about 99% of my things, spending a few hours there on Friday and about nine on Saturday.  Yeah, I beat myself up packing, and let me tell you, my back was pretty far from happy.  But it’s okay.  My aim was to not go back until moving day.

Let me backtrack.  Early last week, I went apartment hunting.  My parents suggested I take the week off since there wasn’t much pressure, but the now former boyfriend (let’s call him FBF) and I agreed that we didn’t want things to drag out if possible.  So I ventured out into the big, wide world and hunted a little.  Of the 20 complexes on my list, I saw four.  Only half of them were on the list.  I found a place quickly because I knew what I wanted, and I put a deposit down fast.  All I had to wait on was approval, but I packed stuff anyway because it needed to be done.

Friday when I went back to the house, I was dreading it.  I stalled as much as I could in the morning because I just didn’t want to do it.  I got there shortly before noon and wasted time feeling upset because I had realized that I didn’t live there anymore.  That was a really heavy realization, and it weighed me down.  A lot.  I was only there for a few hours since it was a Friday, and I wanted to beat traffic (I did for about half the trip).  After that I decided it was spa time.  I had texted my Texas bff to see if she had plans, but I didn’t get a response.  So I grabbed my tablet and phone and headed off to the food counter to get something to eat, turned the corner, and there she was!  She had gotten there a couple hours before.  Apparently great minds think alike.  It was nice to have someone to talk to that understood how I was feeling and have a chance to relax and have someone to spend some time with.

Saturday, I decided to go back and bust my ass until I got everything done.  I moved systematically, sweeping the rooms I was in, making sure I got everything.  By the time 9:00 rolled around, I called it a day.  My back was spasming a bit, and I realized that I was incredibly hungry.  So on my way back to my aunt and uncle’s house, I grabbed some food.  When I got there, my aunt and cousin (she came home from school for the weekend) were working on a puzzle, so I joined in.  They asked how things went, and I said everything was pretty much done.

Except I missed some small things.  No big deal, but I had tried hard not to do that.  FBF was able to text and tell me what I had forgotten and to ask questions.  We’re doing our best to be as amicable and fair as we can while giving each other space.

Today I received word that I’m all approved on my apartment, and I’m set to move in next weekend.  While lying here before bed, emotions hit me, and I started to cry.  I don’t feel very strong at all right now.  I don’t know much of my time here in Texas without FBF, and, while we’re trying to be friends here, it’s just weird.  I’m moving to my own place; I’ll be on my own schedule; I’ll get to do whatever I want whenever I want.  Yeah, that’s great.  But I can’t help but feel a little scared of the unknown, you know?  Right now I feel as if someone has taken the wind out of my sails.  I just feel deflated.  I’m ready to move in more ways than one, but I’m still sad, too, in a way.  It’s hard for me to really put it into words, but I’m sure there’s someone out there who understands how I feel right now.

Well, I said it two weeks ago, and I’ll say it again…

I’ll feel better tomorrow.