… the first in a long time, after a very challenging summer. I’ve cried every day for 2 months. I’ve never experienced that in my life.
I was approved for an apartment that meets my needs. With that stressor off my mind, I can focus on the good things that are brewing – like rocking the part I’ve wanted to play for 24 years – and truly begin my healing. I want to return to my Self and not get lazy again. Once safely landed and getting back to center, I want – at last – to keep going, and rise up to reach for the dreams that I’ve seen before me. They’ve always been mine for the making, but something held me back. Laziness, yes, but something else. I’ve known I could have “more” for so long, but not achieved it yet, or even started. Fear of failure? Fear of success? It’s all in there.
It’s time. I’m ready, whether I like it or not. I’m alive, so I’m ready.
My one-time housemate and boyfriend, with whom I’d gone off my medication to try for a baby, met a girl on the 4th of July, at a party I didn’t go to. It’s true that he and I had not been connecting as a couple for some time. In fact, just a week and a half earlier, at the end of June, I went to him about it, acknowledging that we hadn’t been working together, but that I still believed in us. “We” were still what I wanted, and could he see that in his mind and heart, as well?
Years ago, a friend’s doctor told her Effexor was safe to continue during her pregnancy. A couple of weeks after the baby came, my friend brought her sweet little girl to the ER. She was whisked away hurriedly, knowingly, upon disclosure of anti-depressant use.
“We have an Effexor baby.”
My friend lost her daughter. I’m on different Pharma but felt strongly that if I were to be pregnant, my body’s not my own to medicate. It would belong to my baby. Of course, I’d be in therapy and might consider going back on meds before delivery, as a last resort if things became unmanageable with pregnancy hormones, etc. But, with my boyfriend and my life, things didn’t become unmanageable until they were, and then we were smack dab in it. CRISIS.
It was messy and painful, and clear in hindsight that I’d been “gripping,” as it were, for far too long. We don’t know what we don’t know. We took a risk that ended up being a serious mistake. Even though he and I would have ended eventually, it was an awful end. Til then…
I asked my boyfriend to think about Us, about regrouping and seriously putting us back together. I asked him to put himself there and imagine it, to find his answer and let me know. I told him I would accept the answer if it was “no,” but please to consider it carefully, to feel and hear my heart, remember our dream, and make the decision for himself. He said he would.
Then he met her. He didn’t tell me right away, but there was our answer.
He moved in with her several weeks ago. I see him coming and going. It’s been good and bad. I’ve met her twice. I’ve been gracious and hands-off. I even offered them my piano! She wants her 10-yr old son to take lessons, and I can’t afford to move it again. Then I reconsidered, recognizing that it would keep us connected and continue my pain. I needed a clean break. My ex was understanding.
Then yesterday, my former roommate texted a simple message that puts a stressful wrinkle in the time frame we agreed upon for my exit. He had given me until October to find a place, at which time he’d put the house on the market. Instead…
“Update: I got married. While I’m in Europe (a trip he’d planned with siblings before he met her), my wife will deep clean/prep the house for sale as soon as I get home in October. Please arrange to have all of your belongings out by Sept. 19th. You can have any of the furniture, including the TV, if you’re out by then. If not, you get none of it.”
So I do have a little to-do about Tenants Rights and Notice to Landlords regarding permission to enter the home, but this will pass. I do have a safe place to land, and faith that somehow myself and my property will be secure ’til then.
Pray for me? Thank you.