Charles drove me to Milwaukee this morning. He had to fly to Baltimore today, so it saved Mom another trip to the airport. He advised me to take Si up on the offer of the newer Tacoma as part of the divorce settlement. He regaled me (doesn't he always?) along the way with his experiences doing marketing for Harley Davidson, which is one of his main gigs. The new bike designs for younger, edgier riders. How they market to women; to Blacks; to Latinos.
Part of me can't wait to get home. I handle trouble better when I'm busy. Down time leads to wool-gathering.
Part of me wishes I could stay here and hide out a little longer. Away from the hostility, frustration, doubt, fear and heartache at home. The dark circles are gone from under my eyes. I have temporarily lost that pinched, wizened look. I look good! I feel rested!
Mostly, though, I'm worried. Mom cried when I left this morning. "Don't worry," I said as I hugged her good-bye. "I'll be OK!" Remembering something C. had said once, I told her, "I'll be poorer, but I'll be happier." Do I truly believe that? Well, depends on the day. And the time of the day.
Tomorrow, it will be a month since I have seen C. I have managed pretty well, I think! I moved ahead with the divorce process; I got my professional life back under control; I dragged my ass out of a sad place to a happier one; I have dated a little bit. I have missed C. horribly; but since he needed this time and more, I haven't looked for him or hoped for him. All in all, not a good month, but tolerable. I made it. My therapist is pleased!
But the next month? Ooof. I try to find a favorable angle from which to view it, but... it's going to suck. All my risk is about to come home to roost. In 30 more days, what will become of me?
During this time I need to get a financial settlement hammered out with Si. I need to have found a place to live and actually moved into it. I need to start living without my kiddos. I need to find counseling for them. I need to establish myself alone. I need to hold things together at Guadalupe. I still don't have a replacement for Mark: my earlier prospect has fallen through. I have two grants to write. And somehow I have to stay happy and focused and brave and forward-looking. It seems a lot to manage, emotionally. I'm dreading it.
And I dread that, through it all, there will be the waiting and the hope/doubts/faith/fear that will tighten in my chest as one month stretches toward two. Life with him in it? Life without him in it? The trip to San Luis Obispo will come right at the end of this period of time, punctuating the second month the way that Wisconsin did the first month. I have no idea what my life or mental state will be like when we pull out of SLC, headed for CA; but if it isn't good, I need to be ready with a brave face for this trip. I need to be 100% great for Sara's sake. Then we will get home, and that... will be all. My old life will be over and I will not be returning to it. And I will make the best of it. Make the most of it? At least I will finally be able to say, "Now, I know."
["All rows now boarding for Denver."]
I can hesitate and drag my feet, but my flight will leave on time, regardless. Better get on it and see what comes next.