Here be Dragons!

My life is fiction based.  It's not that I've faked my way through my life, but I've grown up on books and novels that paint the heroine as strong and independent, but not independent enough to go it alone, to stand on her own and face the plot of the story unassisted.

Ok, maybe there were a few books that started out with our main character puts on her armor, shines her sword, slays the dragon, but then finds someone calm and good and nice to settle down with.

I thought I found that person to settle down with, to find that happy comfortable place.  I was wrong.  The blame is on me.  I settled before I got to fight any dragons.  I had some armor, and a sword, and they went into the attic to collect dust.

So my pages are blank now.  I'm going to climb into that attic, pour myself into armor that doesn't quite fit, pick up a sword that no longer has an edge, and struggle forward.  I would've been better at this 20 years earlier, but maybe I would just have different wounds to heal.

I'll write a new story, where I'm the heroine.  There are still dragons.  And I'm as ready as I'll ever be.

A Slow Climb

I have this bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.  It’s called the unknown.  I’m scared.  I’m sleeping in the spare bedroom with my dogs, and hearing my child unhindered and hopeful about the future makes me envious.  I don’t know where I’ll be in a year.  I’m not sure where I’ll be in a month.  I wanted to take this slowly, but I’m looking at rentals, being forced to parcel out furniture and decor.  I opened a kitchen drawer to stir my coffee this morning, and wondered which spoons would be allotted to me.

It’s petty, it’s necessary, and I hate it.  Part of me would like to walk out of here with the clothes on my back and my dogs at my heels and start with nothing again.  But I’m not stupid.  This place was as much mine.  I want to spend as much time with my child as I can.  I need a bed and clothes and dishes.

I’m so scared.  And I am on this roller coaster that goes up to the top of the hill with confidence and some anger, ready to start again, and then I’m plummeting down the hill of uncertainty and terror and depression, not certain i want to wake up to face tomorrow.

Deep breaths, slow down, move forward.  Nothing can grow without some changes.  I can’t get stronger without carrying weight.  Thanks for staying with me, and know I’m thankful for everyone who’s been here for me.  Onward to tomorrow.

A Death or something like it...

I'm grieving right now.  I'm grieving for my life.  That sounds really dramatic, but my husband and I came to the decision to separate, then to divorce, and my life, as I have known it for 18 or so years, is passing away.

This isn't like losing a loved one.  That grief is sharp and poignant and lasting.

This grief is burning.  I have been pushed into the flame, and things are curling up, blackening, turning to ashes.  And I will rise from these ashes to be something new.

But now, I'm still mourning, still grasping for that thing that keeps me moving forward.  When the ashes are carried away on the wind, there's still some shining little seed, ready to reach for the rain and sun and be alive.