How do you mend a broken heart?

Time. The love and support of good friends. Boxes of wine. Lots of painting. Retail therapy. French horror movies. Melancholy music.

So it’s been a month since the big move, and my life seems to be settling down into “the new normal.”  I spent most of the end of November/beginning of December painting.  My room went from a very TARDISy blue to a more blue-grey:

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Euro pillows!

But the major project was transforming my very 1970′s chic wood-paneled basement into something in this millennia.  Here’s a snapshot of a before and after:

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Aura paint FTW

unnamed-3THAT was quite the project.  Endless taping, priming, 1 coat, 2 coat.  I was seeing wood seams everywhere I looked!  I had to work the room in stages, since I was still living in the space. But, it’s crazy the difference it’s made. Everything is so much brighter, and clean.  I even hung up some artwork I’ve long loved, but had in storage.

Tomorrow Emma and I are off to visit family for Christmas, for the first time since 2008.  She’s so excited that she’s been packed for the last month (granted, her packing mostly involves stuffed animals and markers).

I think I’m going to be okay.

Hey there haters.

Yeah, as evidenced by my lack of posts for the rest of November, it would appear I kinda abandoned NaBloPoMo. Ah well, judging by my last post you’re probably thinking I’ve been mired in melancholy and sad. But, not so much. In fact, I was too busy painting and reorganizing and getting myself in gear for what’s ahead.

TL; DR — I’ve turned a corner. Yes, I’m still quite sad about the ending of something so meaningful and influential, but to borrow the words of Gloria Gaynor, I will survive.

Plus I’ve got some great dark and twisty hair to sport in the meantime:

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But this post is mainly geared towards the haters who I know have been stalking my blog to gloat in glee over my recent sad times. First, a hearty FUCK YOU. You know who you are, and so do I.  Thanks for being obsessive enough to check in on my abandoned piece of cyberspace, and for spreading the word of my heartbreak.  This song is for you.

For you haters, and for the many more people out there who have showed me such love and support, please know that I’m doing much much better. And while there may always be a part of me who is sad at what was and what resulted, rest assured I’m not going to stop being who I am. If anything, going through what I have has only made me more of me.  Which some of you haters are gonna hate.  But of course, that won’t stop me. (so watch out)

Onward, one inch at a time.

half & half

No words today. Instead, here are two songs that represent the two feelings I fluxed between all day:

Hello and welcome to November 17th.

Screen Shot 2014-11-17 at 11.20.06 PMSo I missed blogging yesterday. Yesterday was moving day, so I get a free pass, no? Everything went fairly smoothly. Today was spent arranging furniture, making the apartment a home for J + E, and then filling in empty spots back at my place.

I’m lucky to have some amazing friends and family who have been there for me over the last little while. It’s crazy, these days I have to make sure to schedule in the coffee dates and lunches/dinners, because people are reaching out to me so much. I am so very loved, which makes a lot of this easier to handle.

It’s weird to be in this place. I have moments when I feel like everything is great, and I’m completely fine. But then there are times when I’m suddenly hit with such a pang of sadness that it feels like I’ve had the wind knocked out of me. Both experiences are completely unpredictable! The other day a friend dropped off some furniture she gave us, and then gave me a hug as she left. That hug (and her kindness in sharing resources) nearly made me weep.

It’s a process, I know. 10 years is a long time to let go of.

It’s funny that I find myself in this place of transition (again). I’m reminded of Joseph Campbell, and his concept of the hero’s journey — in particular the middle part of the process: initiation or threshold stage. Campbell writes that a moment of departure causes the hero to realize “what formerly was meaningful may become strangely emptied of value – the old concepts, ideals, and emotional patterns no longer fit – the time for the passing of a threshold is at hand.”

Here I am at a threshold – scary and unknown territory ahead – but there’s no turning back.

Both sides, now

One of the songs on my epically sad playlist is Joni Mitchell’s Both Sides, Now.  It’s funny how perfect some of these songs are to where I’m at right now in my life.

One particular stanza feels especially relevant:

But now old friends are acting strange
They shake their heads, they say I’ve changed
Well something’s lost, but something’s gained
In living every day

I’m on the verge of that lost/gained dichotomy: tomorrow, Jerry is moving his things out to a new place. After 10 years of being a couple, we are no more.

I’m still not really in a place to write or muse about how difficult it all is. Right now I’m dealing with the shock of everyone who finds out we are separated — which puts me in that weird place of having to comfort people who are in disbelief over our separation (while I’m the one who feels so broken about it).

Meanwhile things between us two are quite amicable, and Emma is handing it all so well — which is the priority for both of us!

Anyway, if these NaBloPoMo entries have felt more melancholy than usual, this is probably why. There’s a whole new chapter of my life starting tomorrow.

Off to continue packing.

What she said:

In Blackwater Woods
by Mary Oliver

Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars

of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,

the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders

of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is

nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned

in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side

is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world

you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.

Throwback to a little(r) grrrl

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