A bird ended up dead on my front porch this weekend. I got a plastic sack and a scrap board to use as a (disposable) dust pan. Took care of it, washed my hands, and went back to pulling dandelions in the yard. What would once have been unthinkable barely required a second thought.
This weekend I went alone to the movies and to church. A friend had planned to go with me to the movies but didn't feel well enough when the time came. I went anyway and enjoyed the show. Another thing I once could not—or would not—have done.
The first time I took the children out to dinner after B decamped was incredibly difficult and painful. My insides burned, my skin crawled, I shook, sure that everyone who saw us knew my husband had just left me for a younger, prettier, thinner woman. It was like I had REJECT stamped on my face. Sitting in that chair required an incredible act of will—the memory still feels sharp and hot this morning, 15 years later. Now I can go out to eat alone as easily as I can dispose of a dead bird.
Is that progress?
5 comments:
I think it is progress.
Marianne Williamson says, "Why would anyone want to spend an evening alone with you if YOU don't like the idea of spending an evening alone with you!"
My guess is you've discovered you are good company!
Progress indeed.
Definite progress. But I don't think I could do the dead animal thing. Well maybe a bird, but that would be my limit.
I hope you don´t mind me following your blog?
Åsa from Stockholm/Sweden
Yes, sounds like progress to me. More important. Did you enjoy the movie? Did you pause for a moment to think about that poor bird, flying? Did you think of the times when you were desired?
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