My big fat excuse

for the fact that I’ve been absent for a whole month is…  (TMI alert!)

…that my husband and I are separating from each other.  Our 5 year anniversary is in late July; by then, I’ll have moved out.

I am hunting for a dog-friendly apartment in a neighborhood not too far from work and safe enough to wander afar during walks with my (as yet nonexistent) dog.  Wish me good luck!

A lot of this may require intense editing in the morning.  I’m hovering  in between the caffeine of some chai I had after dinner, and an Ambien I popped two hours ago.

So:  we both love each other and care about each other, like living together even, but we are deeply unhappy nonetheless.  Way TMI to explain what that’s about. In case anyone wonders.  we did try.  With all the money thrown at therapists (his, mine, and ours), we could have padded a down payment for a house in this outrageously expensive region.  And we did grow.  But I’m looking forward to setting into a place of my own, nesting a bit (always avoided doing that), bonding with a dog, and re-booting many of the aspects of my life that deteriorated during my sojourn through grad school

Feeling a bit of dread about winding up single on the cusp of 38, I picked up a book on being alone.  I always found the solitude literature fascinating, but I find myself having to dig past the second wave feminist depiction of girlhood as tragedy and womanhood as victimhood, in order to get to the core idea that drew me to the book:  The value of learning how to be with oneself, without the distraction and external validation of a sexual relationship, at least for a time.

In between mourning and feeling abandoned, I look forward to being with myself (and a pooch, of course).  And setting up a crafting corner in a new apartment, painting the walls in bright, happy colors.