Argh..... I don't want to write this post. With all my heart, I don't want to write this post. But it's either say it now, or stop writing because otherwise I'm pretty much lying by omission. So here it is, guts out, heart on the table, balls to the wall; My partner and I decided to call it quits this week. Writing it down seems to make it more real, which is the last thing I want it to become.
But, there it is, reality. I'm trying to face it. To deal with what is real instead of what I wish was. I'm not going to go into the details of it. He is a private man, and wouldn't choose to have his laundry aired.
And now the world has opened up to me, unteathered, rootless, floating. I can do anything, go anywhere, be anyone. That feeling gives me vertigo, and makes me want to hide out somewhere watching HBO and eating Chinese take-out. I'm making a concerted effort to keep my head above water. No sad love songs or drunken bitch sessions.
I've run away to San Francisco to give us both time and space to heal. Back to my old stomping ground. Back to my big brother who has gotten me through all three of my big break-ups. Back to the West Coast, which still smells like home.
It's time to listen to dumb pop music, read self-help books, and go running in the sunshine.