Wow. I have been incredibly slack around here. I apologize; I have no excuse. I’m currently in the middle of nowhere in West Virginia, at a very fancy hotel, to attend and present at a lawyer conference. I flew a red-eye with a layover in Atlanta, i.e., hell. I slept two hours on the plane, supplemented by a 30-minute nap.
I slept poorly the night before because, guess what: as my new boyfriend and I were driving to the gym, I saw my ex walking the dog, a tenth of a mile from my boyfriend’s house. Thirty seconds earlier, and we would have run into him at the intersection, and he would have seen us both in the car. Me and a stranger, in his eyes. It sent a delayed jolt through my system, initially I nervously laughed but now, it just feels…bad, for the lack of a better word. Once I knew he had moved four blocks from my boyfriend’s place, I knew it was fucked and that I needed to be ready to run into him at any time. My cortisol is spiking; I walk in fear. That neighborhood was a safe space, my safe space, but now I’m not sure what to do or feel, or how to make it better. It feels tainted, and my underlying anxiety has been creeping back up. Dang it. I was okay, stable, and overall quite happy, and all of a sudden, he took that away from me. Yet again.
It’s now 6 p.m. EST, and I’m getting ready to attend the conference’s cocktail reception. I simultaneously hate and love those events. Right now, I just want to eat, have a drink, and sleep. I’m pushing through it, as my boss would say.
I thought I’d check in and share a little about what’s been happening. My birthday was over the weekend, and that, too, was magical with a hint of weird (I’ll share more about it). I am mourning a prior life while thoroughly loving my new one. My boyfriend bought me a Switch (yay, Zelda!!), but most importantly, he wrote me a beautiful and deeply meaningful love ballad. He’s a musician, one who made a career out of it, and that unpublished song is my most cherished possession, something I will forever remember and adore. It makes me want to do very romantic things with him, and some, to him. I feel incredibly lucky. Yet at the same time, I feel plagued. I love you so much, anonymous musician, yet I don’t know where to put the rest of my conflicting, grieving emotions. Suffocate them? Caress them? Throw them in front of a truck? Eat them? Bury them next to a tulip?
