Solitude

In two days, I will cement the changes I’ve recently set in motion. If ‘like a bull in a china shop’ doesn’t apply to my utter lack of grace in navigating the matters of my heart in recent months, I don’t know what does.

It’s been rough, on others and on me.

Since that fateful day, “the decider,” I’ve been dangling off a ledge unsure of whether to hold on or to let go. No one likes the idea of a free fall, but I am also shamefully aware of the fact that I am too weak to pull myself back above ground right now, back to where I stood in early fall. And no longer is he atop the hill standing with a hand outstretched.

The wind has cleared our course.

Saturday, I move and say my final goodbye.

My heart sinks as I consider what it will feel like to pack my things away and remove them from a home that’s no longer mine. In just a month and a half, I’ll have been out for as long as I was in it. That’s a pretty bitter dose of perspective.

“It is the knowledge of the genuine conditions of our lives that we must draw our strength to live and our reasons for living." - Simone de Beauvoir

Now, I have to look into that which causes me great discomfort. Reasons why.

I owe someone answers about why I ran. I owe myself answers about what I needed that I wasn’t getting and why I felt it so pressing that I couldn’t wait for a level head and lucidity. Perspective. Time.

When I needed him most, I locked myself in a closet and the floor fell from beneath me as I finally found and made what I had all along feared—that I would be left alone.