I marked an anniversary of sorts this week: three months since I last saw Mr. F. Now, don’t worry—this isn’t going to be a poor poor pitiful me post. I’m still sad over the end of this relationship and I will be for a long time to come, but there was some sweet along with the bitter over the past week. Two things happened that offer hope.
I saw it again this week, for the first time in what seems like eons. There were times I thought I’d never see it again, but there it was–my unmistakable old friend. That gleam. A spark. A light in my eyes, the one that shows up when my world is mostly right and good, and it was oh-so-welcome. A sign that my heart may be on the mend, just a little. That it really is going to be okay, that I’m coming back to life, that I’m more engaged, curious, seeking, growing happier.
Then I heard it last night. Game night at S and D’s house is always a good time, but last night was especially good, and I heard it—genuine, belly-cramping, tears-down-my-cheeks, snort-inducing laughter, and I swear the wine had nothing to do with it. I haven’t laughed like that in a long, long time. Sharing it with friends was the gravy on my spuds, and it felt good.
Hell, it felt GREAT.
I’m getting a little stronger every day. I’m coming back to my center a little more. I’m feeling more grounded. Happier. More hopeful. And I didn’t do it alone, nor could I have done.
So to my friends who have been with me on this most unwelcome journey, thank you. You didn’t abandon me. You held me and loved me and offered me your strength, your calm, your wisdom, your silent and comforting presence. You offered thoughts and prayers of support and compassion on Mr. F’s behalf as well as mine. You let me rage and weep and sit with my sadness just long enough. You kept me included and you didn’t let me go through this alone.
I would not be who I am, and I will not be who I am to become, without you.
For that, and for so many other gifts you have given me, I am grateful.
Here’s a little something for you: