Monday, February 13, 2006

Two thousand six

Aha. Time for the real training to begin. Single, writing hard enough that I am seriously scared to even let my doctor look at my wrists for fear she'd send me to some specialist lockup where I would be wearing braces for the rest of my life. I'm restless and running is difficult. I feel sometimes trapped, sometimes isolated, and rarely do I know what to do. My brain feels trapped by my heart, which is finally starting to heal a little. In an episode of Sex and the City Miranda asks, "How long until I start to get back to normal?" I'm starting to think I'll never get back to normal. In fact, I'm starting to question what normal entails and why on earth it's so NORMAL to be hurting and crying and aching and at the same time be so grateful for my friends and family, who've let me cry and wail and scream and be pissed off and then be elated, who have gotten me through this nightmare of a breakup and helped me realize I'm going to be okay. These wonderful people have also, in addition to whatever shreds of self-confidence are still left in my brain, have helped me to emerge raw and pained and slowly, slowly becoming real again. In this really fucked-up world, this must be what passes for normalcy. The dream relationship, the dream house, the dream family with the 2.6 kids and the dog, the white picket fence, they're all just what you make of it. Normalcy doesn't really exist. It's just this idea you have that allows you to get by while you're busy living through a life that's less than everything you want it to be.

1 comment:

ScottG said...

The breakup was not just the end of something good in your life but it was preparing you for when you will meet that someone more wonderful to share your life with.