change in the weather

Y’know that scene in Mary Poppins — when the wind changes?  And then all of a sudden, life changes?  I feel that way about the first true cold snap in the fall.

Now, to be fair, I missed the first one — I was lounging by a pool in Austin Texas, trying to summon the strength to — well, do anything — following a three-day juice fast. Er, cleanse. Detox? (Sorry, terminology.  Gets me every time.)  But this evening, the cool seemed to descend as the sun sank in the sky, and I shivered –legitimately — when Lucy and I ambled around the yard.  And it knew it was real.  Mmmm…. I love it.

I’ve been attempting to sit and write all week — but my journey home on Sunday kicked my butt (who knew Philadelphia was so popular a destination from Austin TX, that one cancelled flight could throw and entire day into chaos? … Oh, right, there is only one flight from Austin to Philadelphia … that would explain it!) And then returning to work didn’t help with the fatigue.  And taking care of Lucy solo — while always a joy, because she is a joy — can also be somewhat exhausting.  So here I am, Thursday night, just sitting down to clickety clack on the keyboard.  And all that’s coming out are rambles.  Haha!

I spent last week in a truly incredible place — also completely surreal and outside of my previous scope of reality — and it has had such an impact, that it has begun to influence nearly every decision I make.  Especially in terms of food.  Which is tough.

I have a journal that I kept — notes from classes and thoughts jotted down in incomplete sentences.  But my brain is so loosey goosey right now, I think I would do a huge disservice to the program I attended if I tried in any way to write about it right now.

Instead, I think I’m going to curl up under some soft blankies with my puppy, listen to her soft snuffles, and fall asleep about ten minutes into whichever movie I choose to pop into the BluRay.  And then tomorrow, there will be no more sleeps left until the man gets home, and life will be right again.

 

killing time

I am currently hanging out at a wine bar in the Austin airport, fresh on the heels of spending a full week detoxing my body.  Admittedly, I feel kinda guilty.  As though the five plus days I spent were for naught.

But then, through the fog of frustration and fatigue, I remember who I am.  And I remember that I need to always feel okay with who I am.  (Y’know, within reason).  And I’m the type of girl who finds a wine bar when her flight is cancelled and she must re-route to a different airport just to get to the east coast — even if it’s seven hours after her original arrival time.

As I’ve sat here and fought with the WiFi and the underlying urge to break intermittently into tears, I had a lot of time to think.  (Which is saying something, because this entire week has been devoted — through the program — to time to think.)

There’s something very different when you are single and alone versus when you are in a relationship and find yourself alone.  It’s almost humbling.  I’ve sat here, enjoying some very nice wine, some very nice nibbles, and I’ve palpably felt the loneliness.  And this is a girl who used to go to the movies alone no problem, exist on my own no problem — and then suddenly, something changed.

And it wasn’t meeting my husband.  Who is amazing.  And takes amazing care of me.  He makes the stressful things less stressful, because he handles them.  He makes sure I can get through the security line smoothly, and makes sure we’re at the right gate, and in the right place and doing the right thing … He’s just — he protects me.  He takes care of me.  He takes the brunt of the burden and shoulders it — so I can sleep while he drives, or focus on other (usually work-related) things without having to worry.  He always makes sure we’re okay.

I think at some point — between my single days and my bad relationship days — something happened to cause such unreal insecurity within me that it manifests in my complete inability to be alone.  And getting MS didn’t help.  Because MS just makes you more vulnerable.  Less confident in your movements, your action, your ability to… oh, I don’t know … walk an airport terminal between connecting flights.  I don’t think my poor husband has ever seen a completely convincing ‘alone and confident’ version of me.  And I know it existed once …. I just can’t remember it.

So I figured out the WiFi.  And I’ve had some interesting airport conversations (sit at a wine bar for 3 and half hours in an airport — you will, too!).  But I haven’t figured out the loneliness.  The missing my husband.  The insecurity.  The unwelcome and completely uncontrollable welling of eyes and tightening of throat.

And I think of the lovely woman I met this past week.  Who struggles with the loneliness of no longer having her husband.  The quiet of her home.  The emptiness of family dinners — that gaping, open hole where someone used to be.  And I have no answers.  No fixes for the loneliness.  And it breaks my heart.