I left a woman waiting
At some point, my job became my career.
At some point, I started needing two full days to recover from one night of drinking.
At some point, the thought of a weekend with nothing planned started sounding really good.
At some point, it became quite okay to spend 4 out of 5 nights alone, in my pajamas, watching movies, smoking, knitting.
Each year has given me, along with a rash of shit, trauma, and tragedy, a growing appreciation for the knowledge and grace acquired simply by being alive. I maneuver most situations with relative ease, stepping over my own tongue less and less, though I don’t have nearly the same luck with inanimate objects. I find it easier to give without exhausting myself, and easier to take, finally gracious for the things I know I deserve, often able to completely leave behind the plaguing doubt of self worth. I am starting to understand that sometimes, bridges do need to be burned. Sometimes, there is no looking back. There is very little in this world that is irreplaceable. And while I will never tolerate cruelty, towards me or in me, I am learning, without any doubt at all, that sometimes, sometimes, you just need to be a bitch to survive. It’s been an interesting journey to say the least. I’ve come full circle many times over and I know by now that this period of quiet will not last. It’s just another valley; the hill will surely come.
