Friday, December 17, 2010

And four weeks later...

I'm sitting at the very desk that I started Frozen Underwear at.

There are parts of me that feel like giving you every gory detail about my breakup. Really, there are. I would like nothing more than to get it off my chest. But I'm also sensitive about the fact that my now ex was in my life for two years, not a guy I dated that provided fodder for blogging. He has a right to his privacy, and so I've decided to discuss the breakup as little as possible.

Long story short, we went out not with a bang, but with a whimper. He was pretty blindsided by the whole thing, but I held my ground with my decision and laid it all out. At the end, I think he still believed that he could change my mind, but that ship had sailed.

I took my bags and left. No huge fight, screaming, or anything that had been predicted. Lots and lots of crying and pain. The typical accusations that my leaving him was 'easy' for me, and that I should instantly feel 'happy' about it. Wrong on both counts, but he has a hard time understanding how I feel.

So now, like I said, I'm sitting at the very desk that I began Frozen Underwear at, having moved back in with my parents. And it's around the same time of year when, many moons ago, I was miserable with the direction my life was headed. At least this time I think I've got off to a head start.

2010 was not a good year for me. It's brought nothing but pain and sorrow, and I'm glad to have it behind me. I pray 2011 will be the year I finally get myself back. But nothing is simple, and there are still obstacles to be overcome before I can feel better about myself and my life. A big one was ending a dead-end relationship, yet even that hasn't made me feel all that great. I'm waiting for that time when it hurts less and I've worked through the grief and the crap, but so far I just feel tired and burnt out.

Christmas is upon us, my favourite holiday and season of the year. The tree is trimmed, the lights hung and the very few presents that I can afford are bought. The wine is breathing, the roast is nearly done, and I'm alone.

And for the first time in my life, it doesn't feel sad to be single.

That's one hell of a start.