Tonight like many, is about starting over. We started over with potty training the baraccuda; started my life over, my love. Tommy sent me a text today and told me he was tired of me. Tired of me. Which made me happy and angry at the same time. Because I have felt that in differing fashions for so long. Tired of him. And sad and angry about it. And so worried what everyone would think. Who cares? Right? I mean when it really comes down to it. My parents want me to be happy, I know my sister does and my friends do. I do to. The question now lies in whether I am a complete idiot and believe someone new, or just cling to my new "FREEDOM". Shit. With me? Prolly neither. I can't let go, am stubborn to a fault and have trouble with holding onto projects that I should just let go. But its so hard, when your project has a name, and a face....and a need. A desire. Fuck. What am I talking about? I will be 31 in a day. And I have nothing figured out. I am awake at 137am knowing tomorrow i have to put on a show, because yet again i am planning and hosting my own birthday. Tomorrow I have to be happy. Even thought my life has fallen apart. I am getting a divorce. Per his last text, at the end of next week. And am just trying to move through my life every day with some semblance of joy. Jesus. This whole entry is fucked. Hello everyone, if you haven't met my life, here it fucking is.

Change

I'm getting a divorce. There, I said it. The concept is still so foreign to me somedays, that this is my life. Or was. And is. I chose it. I asked for it. Ripped the proverbial bandaid off in January and am still healing. Somedays are easier than others. My soon to be ex, though I would like to villanize him, is not a bad person. We just weren't good together. I thought we were for a long time, or talked myself into thinking that we were, and the deeper I got, the more stuck I felt. The more I cried in the shower, went to bed alone, slept with my back to him at night. Got up alone in the morning, went to work, came home, took care of our daughter, our home not as well, myself hardly at all. Resentful is a good word for how I felt. Taken gor granted, taken advantage of. Though I allowed it. Encouraged it even at times. It is amazing the things I realized that I stopped doing for myself, like I didn't have value like everyone else in my life. I stopped doing my hair, my nails, shaving for godsake. I didn't buy new clothes for myself. I was still working in my maternity clothes when Lucia was turning one. There was always something, or someone, more important. As she got older, and more independent, I started looking around at my life and realized that while I was happy at times, I was mostly just going through the motions. For whose benfit I don't know. Not mine for sure. Leaving my husband was the most selfish thing I have ever done because the only people I really considered in my choice were Lu and me. Not him. Or his family or friends. Not our mutual friends. Not my family. For the first time it wasn;t about what anyone would think, it was about how I would feel. And while some days I feel awful. Terrible. Like a failure who has just invited years of bad karma into her life, there are more and more days where I feel light. And free. And confident. Getting things put back together has been hard. I am bad with money. I am still not unpacked and my house is disorganized. I stay up too late and am tired at work. There is no routine to this leaving and starting over yet. Somedays I get a lot done, and others like today, not much at all.

So. I am getting a divorce. I am meeting myself again. Lets see how it goes....