It’s been two weeks. I’ve been reprogramming my brain, surely but slowly. I know it takes time, for that is what everyone tells me. Mornings are best. I wake up, have a cup of coffee, (caffeine is what steadies my mind, even as my hands tremble), watch the emergent sunlight stain the horizon. I focus on present, immediately observable things: the silver light upon the snow, the crunch of boots on grass. My inability to plan for the future, heretofore one of my biggest flaws, is coming in handy these days.
I’m usually a fairly happy-go-lucky person. Even through semi-traumatic events. I look back on the tumult I felt when I was younger, and you could pay me no amount of money to step in a time machine and rewind to those days. I’m generally happier and more comfortable in my own skin. I’m no longer petrified of talking to people. Going alone to places is still uncomfortable and scary, but in a weird way, sort of exhilarating.
One thing I can take away from all this: I definitely waded back into the dating pool far too soon. Something is definitely not right when you are recycling the same break-up songs you used to get over a previous ex! I never even had time to delete that playlist of self-pity.
“The license said you had to stick around until I was dead. But if you’re tired of looking at my face, I guess I already am.”
I know now that I need time to slowly build up the boundaries around myself which had, for some reason, crumbled during this mad little fling (or were they really even there in the first place? I really was too vulnerable). A “fortress of solitude” does seem resolutely spinsterish, but no, I’m not resigning myself to total catlady-dom and Healthy Choice meals for one. I’ll date some day, when I’m good and ready.
Some of the people I date may be total jerks, and some of them might run fast and far away from my asocial antics (e.g., arguing politics on the first date!). I might connect with one or two, but for whatever reason, it might not work out, and then we’ll have to part ways in sadness. My heart will be disappointed, time and time again. I’ll survive all that. I’ll still have me.