And just like the title, you can tell this post is going to be a hot-mess of contradiction.
I'll always remember that it started out as a normal Thursday, albeit strange. I got up just like any other day, but when I went to the kitchen the door was unlocked and the house alarm wasn't on. I went to check and see if he had left early - but he was asleep. Or so I thought. Truth was, he must have sneaked some of his things out the night before while I was asleep.
The rest he must have taken either during the day while I was at work, or perhaps later in the evening when I was checking up on a friend.
The gist of it is: My husband of 17 years has left. He left on a Thursday night. He left me with a note and separation papers. No longer content to contribute to the family unit, he left me to...what? I don't know...hold my own? Pick up pieces? Pay my way? I dunno. I thought I was doing all of those before. But, now I lack someone with whom to shoulder those burdens. No more safety. No more security. No more teamwork. Now it's just me. And her.
Right now, I feel numb, and hurt all at the same time. I enjoy the numb the most because if I don't feel then I won't fall apart. I'll just go through life like nothing's changed. Except that to become this numb, part of me has died. And that's usually when the pain returns and I fall apart and become a basket case.
I am, save Leilani, completely alone.
But in numbness there is peace. In emotion there is chaos and disorder. I'm so exhausted. I just want some peace.
Friday, August 21, 2015
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
When I was growing up, one of my favorite things to do was to sit down with house plan books and to look at different layouts. I would imagine what each room would look like, and how it would be decorated. Which would be my favorite place to spend time? What would the lot look like? Where in the world would it be, and how would that impact the landscaping? What color schemes and decor would be featured in each house?
As with my nature, every house I looked at on paper had a different feel to it - and none of them was favored more than the other (as you know, I don't make up my mind easily). I loved the houses for different reasons. Even if they were on paper and in my mind.
I often wonder how many of those houses actually ever got built by anyone. And if they didn't, how the architect may have felt about that particular snub to their work. But, in my mind, those houses lived. They were built, if not in reality, then in my conscious.
|And I just got sidetracked because over at|
they have ALL my favorite character's layouts.
Even Golden Girls and Will and Grace!
I never had an affinity for one room over another until I became a teenager. That's when my bedroom became my sanctuary. Everything I ever wanted lived in that room. My water bed, my cat, my favorite videos, my books. Everything I wanted to keep close to me. It was all there.
Now that I am older, you would think that my favorite room would have changed to the kitchen or living room, since I have a house of my own. But, instead, I find myself still captivated by my bedroom. My pillows. My blankets (especially the heated one in the winter). My retreat.
The revelation surprises me, because I find that I haven't changed all that much. But then also doesn't surprise me, because I am a creature who loves warmth, comfort, familiarity, safety and surety. And those things can only be found in my dreams.
What is your favorite room in your house? Did it change if you moved? Have you lived in one place your whole life?