I hope against hope that my divorce is reaching it’s end. I can’t allow myself to dream too much, because there is only so much loss a person can take. At this point, I’ve learned to be prepared for everything and anything. Living in fear this past year has changed me. Some of the changes are for the better. For example, I am now much clearer about what is important to me and what isn’t. I have more defined priorities, and I have eliminated a lot of the frivolous stuff. I think at age 39, I have finally matured into a woman.
There is also a tremendous downside: I don’t feel human sometimes. I feel like some crazed “thing.” All of this grief and drama has done something to me that I hate. Even after a whole year of suffering, I still feel so raw and exposed. So many times I’d wish that I would just stop existing. I never actually wanted to kill myself, but I did want to “disappear” and just stop being. It was only last week that my mother had to extract me from my sister’s closet where I was lying on the floor, in the dark, and crying like a wounded animal.
During my career as a blogger, if one would call it a career, I have always tried to write about the the things that made me happy. I wrote about food, travel, art and all the fun involved with being fabulous and female. I wanted to make people laugh and wanted my blog to be tons of fun… I intend to go back to that. I don’t want this to be a blog about divorce. It’s a blog about me, but unfortunately, right now, this divorce stuff consumes me.
These days, I can’t think about the future too much, because it is so fraught with uncertainty. For a control freak like myself, who likes to have all the details figured out, it frightens me enough that I know I’ll just run back into the closet (or bathroom) and crumble. Right now my life is about taking baby steps. For me, that starts with remembering what if feels like to be human.
If I remember correctly, humans eat breakfast. Ah, who am I kidding, in all my years I’ve probably missed about two breakfasts in my entire life. Just check out my thighs, they will tell you stories! All you have to do is read the braille (aka celulite). Although I do not enjoy food as much as I once did, I still find eating one of life’s greatest pleasures. And one thing you might not know about me, is that I am a bagel whore. Like my soon to be ex husband, I like anything with a hole (bagels and donuts for me, and mildly retarded whores for him). So, in an effort to rediscover a bit of humanity, once or twice a week I go with my mom and/or sister to Panera for breakfast and indulge in the forbidden: carbs.
One thing I missed in London was good bagels. I never truly found a great one there (though I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before that changes, London is one of the most incredible foodie scenes in the world). Although Panera is a far cry from my Holy Grail bagel joint in New York, it is indeed a pleasure. So one morning I came to gobble up an asiago egg and cheese bagel with a cup of tea, and another day a delicious and highly calorific cinnamon crunch bagel with full fat cream cheese. Taking baby steps can be the equivalent of a great leap when you are low.