It's hard to believe that it was almost exactly one year ago that I started the conversation with my now employer about moving 500 miles to begin anew. It's hard to assess just where I've been. It's been one year, a million miles, almost as many glasses of wine or beer consumed, and a thousand moments too
spectacular or too sad to even begin to share. One year, that started with one conversation that changed it all.
And changed, it did.
I sometimes think about all the change that has happened, since that first conversation. In the months that followed, and in the months that have only recently passed. I look back and I am thankful for all I have learned. For the people I have met. For the sound of laughter, and the wet of my tears. I smile at my ability to cope, and to heal, and at just how wonderful it feels to acknowledge the pain I harbored for such a long time. I like to breathe in the release of lost emotions. I relish my new-found ability to confront instead of run. I talk instead of holding it in. There's a profound change that has come because of that with many relationships in my life. It's nice. It's begun a path to healing, and of forgiveness, and of a hope for a different future.
Yet, some journeys still haven't had their resolution. I still drink too much. Although now, it is
predominantly in the company of others, instead of the company of my lone and furry companion. I am saying to you now the words I only formerly implied.
I drank a lot, by myself, for too long. I know that I did that because I was incapacitated by the ability to feel anything but sad, lonely, and hurt. I recognize only in the last year, just how profoundly my divorce, my ex-husband, changed my being. I recognize that the consequences of that relationship have had lingering effects I chose not to deal with until moving 500 miles away, and to a place where I was empowered to become the woman I had known I could become. But now that I've reached the calm - now that I've reached the place I used to only gaze at with blurred vision - I know that the full resolution is not met, but also not far away. I am still hoping, trying, wanting, to put
Natasha away for good.
Where have I been?
I've been trying to buy a townhouse. Talk about absolute insanity. I swear, when this process began at the end of January, I thought, no
problemo. I thought, I'd find something very quickly and rush into it without proper assessment, without proper foresight. Yeah. Was. I. Wrong. It's now approaching the end of March. I've been in close to 50 townhouses in the Northern Virginia area, and I've not found anything suitable for myself and My Girl to call home for the next few years. This is
definitely not the same tits-in-the-wind Nat we all once knew. No, apparently, this one is hyper-conscious and has this weird aversion to making a decision.
Ok, so the last point is not so far from believable, but yeah. I'm now obsessed with square footage, location, garage vs. no garage, and neighborhoods. I wait for the daily report of new listings with baited breath. Salivating over what will come up in my price range, only so I can go out and find the same floor plan, same everything, same lack of that
je ne sais quois that I've been so persistent to find. It absolutely fucking sucks.
I've somehow convinced my company that I am awesome. Got big promotion the day I returned from Christmas holiday. Big. Promotion. Like, one my former company wouldn't have given me. And one, that in this area, puts me in a different league and secures a solid place for my career. Which is another reason that first conversation was so significant. That and that they fired and asked
me to take the place of the man who I had that
first conversation with. I'm sure of only one thing, and that is that my job has sucked the life out of me,
and that there is no immediate end in sight.
Some days are better than others, and
some days I do nothing but question my competence and ability to do this job. That's really all I can say about that.
Let's see, what else. Oh yeah...
Fell in love? Check! With a wonderfully geeky and introverted Frenchman. As NB-C would say, I'm like the United Nations when it comes to my taste in men. What can I say? There's just something about them. And hey, at least I am being consistent. So back to the guy...First point to be made, he lives here. Not
there. He makes me laugh, hard. Smile, a lot. Hurt, when I'm not around him. And shine when I am. He brings me flowers when the last bunch die, cooks me tasty treats on Sunday's, and runs with My Girl
almost every time she asks. He tells me stories, in his soft and melodic voice, and dares to dream about the places he wants to go, the person he wants to become, and the man who he's always been. I love that he'd rather have a conversation, a spirited one at that, than be complacent. That he questions everything, and the motives of just about everyone. That he loves Star Wars
and Juno and has read Tolkien, and a bunch of stuff that I've never even picked up. For his love of food and restaurants and exploration of them both. And that he loves his friends, and his family, and that despite that love, despite the countless times he finds himself missing them, wishing only to be in their healing presence, he still had the courage to move so far away, from a life that was so familiar.
He's not perfect, and he's totally complicated. He has horrible decorating taste, and he forgets to smile when he's in meetings he doesn't want to be in. He doesn't watch sports, and prefers computer games instead. And don't even get me started on the
dragons. Sometimes, he forgets to listen when you are talking to him, or says "
what?" for as many as five times after you've first made your statement. He's totally French, and well, you know how
they can be. But I love him. I love that he thinks I'm beautiful, and I love that he is so patient, and so kind, and so
tres French. I also love that he's reading this right now and smiling, and isn't scared of what I may or may not say. What is more, is that I love who I am when I am with
him. He's become my best friend, and had been long before I gave into his many attempts to woo me and date me.
Et oui, monsieur JF, tu es mon meilleur ami.I've also got a slew of new babies in my life. Some who I've held, and some who regrettably, I have not.
Yet. Mr. TL, son of
Vee, came into our lives, just waiting for his little voice to be heard on October 20. Miss Elizabeth, daughter to
SEDW, was born a mere two weeks later, on November 8, on what was perhaps
the most beautifully ironic day she could have ever chosen to come. And little Miss Camden, daughter of NB-C, our most recent addition, and the chick that has been
rockin'
LexVegas since February 1. All three of whom I can't wait to know and love for all the rest of my days.
My sister's baby, who was nothing much more than a few cells grown in a
peitri-dish the last time we spoke, will be born any day. A baby boy, to be called Gavin Elijah, likely to be born this Easter weekend. Indeed, the last few months are sure cause for celebration, for thanks, and for remembering how lucky I am each time my family grows.
Where have I been? I've been on the greatest journey of my life, one that continues to amaze me and continues to take me further than a year ago I would have imagined.
One that's led me back here. And back I'm hoping to remain for a little bit longer. We'll see how the words flow this time, and if I can shake off the dust. For as much as I resented you before I left, I am more than happy to make your acquaintance upon my return. To co-exist in this
blogosphere, with you. You, you faceless lurkers, and you, you, longtime friends.
