Four years ago today, my new life began officially.
I got my tattoos, which I still adore to this day. Destiny on one side of my wrist, and a Buddhist chant for blessing and enlightenment on the other side of my wrist.
Oh, and my divorce became final.
I don’t know why this day - this fourth anniversary - is so heavy on my mind.
And I don’t know why this quote from (god help me) “Xanadu” keeps running through my mind: “Well, maybe just one moment. Or forever. I keep getting them mixed up.”
One moment or forever.
That’s what it feels like.
It feels like just yesterday that I sat in our home office and said that I needed some time. Just time to figure things out. Just a moment to look at where I was, where we were. Just a moment.
Or forever.
Just yesterday, I sat in a tattoo parlor in Las Vegas with my best friend, my mom and another friend while this adorable guy tattooed my wrist. Just a moment, such a perfect moment. Beautiful moment.
Or forever.
I never thought we’d divorce. I still don’t believe that it happened. I never meant for it to be like this, like that. I never meant for us to be done. Not for a moment.
Or forever.
And four years have gone by so quickly, so strangely, so remarkably. They have been four years full of productivity, creativity, beautiful friends, tragic loss, heartbreak, and wonder.
Four years where I have done some of -- no, have done the absolute best work of my life.
Four years where I have found some amazing friends, worked with brilliant actors, created incredible memories.
Four years.
Or a moment.
And for four years, I have dragged you around behind me, as a memory, as a lesson, as an excuse. It kept me protected, it kept me captive. It kept me from living the rest of my life. I kept falling for those I couldn’t have because the memory of you kept me from being able to really, truly believe that I could fall for someone who would want me back. It was safe. It was easy to hide behind you and say, no, I’ve been abused, I’m battered and wounded and hurt so I’ll keep myself hidden and locked up. I built huge walls around me so I wouldn’t have to feel, so I wouldn’t have to try again. At least for a moment.
Or forever.
Well, forever starts today.
Today, I leave behind the corpse of us. Or at least, I’ll try. I won’t use you as an excuse anymore. In fact, I’ll try to never mention you again. Because I need to get that power back from you.
I need to take this moment to get to my forever.
4 comments:
Here's to your new forever girl.
Congratulations - you have not only "survived" these 4 years, but become a whole new person. Cocoon time is over - time to fly.
Cate
Thank you, Cate. Much appreciated.
Susan, you are such a lyrical writer; your every word is a gem. Please use this amazing talent to furhter your life and stop obsessing -- and wasting that gift on what is dead and gone. You know I love you, I want so much for you. Stop looking back into the dark, look ahead into the light. I say that as someone who, one year ago this month, came very close to going THROUGH the light to the other side. (Except I never saw the light. Hmmm... I hope that was just because they weren't expecting me and not something more sinister. Come visit me down in Vista. We'll do something silly, like go to Legoland. XXX OOO Carly
Carly, wasn't sure you were following. I don't know how to reach you anymore. Go to my website lifeonitsside.com and send me an email with your info. Hope you're well.
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