- I've got the feeling of being scrubbed raw. A layer taken off your soul. I know, that sounds dramatic. But it's real.
- Christmas is a-coming. I want to pick out gifts for the people I love but I'm damn tired. I think I'll make a Pinterest board instead. Everyone's getting gift cards! In the meantime I'll be here listening to Michael Buble's Christmas album.
- I love that feeling when you remember an album that feels like it speaks right to you. In lyrics, in beats, in stories. Right now it's HERE by Alicia Keys. Earbuds in, and this is like juice right to me.
- Someday, I think. I'll be thriving again. What will that look like? What will that feel like? Will I have my own place? Will I have money issues? What's going to happen to me? To me and the kiddo? What will life look like?
- Driving an hour each way every day. Staying with my mother. Wondering how much to say publicly. Who to tell. The word like a whisper, a crack in ice spreading. "Break-up." A tragedy some minutes. A revelation, a freedom, in others. He hasn't told anyone yet except his parents. Why not? Is this happening or is it not?
- Is there hope? I don't know. Sometimes yes. Sometimes no. Will we get back together? I mean, who can tell the future? And if they could, would I believe them?
- Breathe. "Pick a word and just focus on that," or whatever the book said.
- The night, so dark. I get out of my car and there are no outside lights on. It is pitch black. I feel so alone. I stand in the middle of the driveway and sob.
- Other times I am laughing, at movies or at tweets or at other things. Other times I am texting with close friends and it is OK. It is going to be OK.
- I write here because it's my space. My writing space. "You could just keep it in a journal," says the critic in my head. Yeah, but... I've been doing that. For a month now. And I'm starting to feel ready to let people know, people other than my nearest and dearest. There is still hope we'll get back together, but there is also reality. This is my reality right now. Pregnant. Broken up. Navigating the foggy waters, seeing what life will look like. What it does look like, right now. One day at a time. And, I'm remembering, this is what I do, to get through. I write about it. (It helps that I don't think anyone reads this blog unless I specifically point them to it with a link from Instagram.)
