Still new

My new life still feels very, very new.  How could it not?

Bryan moved out nine days ago, and I have spent most of those days trying to help the dust of my mind and my house settle from his move.  Every day I make a bit of progress with each, I think, but I have a long way to go.  I don't have enough distance to reflect properly on the whole thing, and I think that may take years to unravel, but here is what I believe:

I am in a better place this week than I was two weeks ago.

Though I find myself wondering why I have such a big house, and how I'll ever accomplish all of the projects it requires (did I mention that my house is nearly 100 years old?), it is actually easier to care for the house with Bryan gone.  I don't need to tiptoe around him to get things done, and I no longer have the expectation that he will help me, so I just do it all.  No arguments, no fuss, I just get it done, and it's satisfying.

I am back at work, and this morning that meant getting up super early to take care of things before waking Katherine up.  Reading to her in her bed to help her wake up in the morning, with my work clothes on, is satisfying, because I'm proud of myself for carving out that time to take care of her and go the extra mile.  I am no longer resentful that Bryan is sleeping in preparation for a day of web surfing and movies and reading, because now it is my choice to do it on my own, and my resentment towards him is replaced with pride towards myself.

Tonight Katherine is at a sleepover at a friend's house, and I found myself alone in the house.  I took the dog for a walk through a natural area, and got to smell the salty kelp smell of the beach, a cool scent even in the warm sun, and I got to see bald eagles at their nest.  I listened to music I like, and I rushed about doing my little home projects, and I sat on the porch swing soaking up the evening air, staring at the shapes in clouds and letting my mind wander.  Nobody stormed around me, nobody was there to say a sharp word.

Katherine's tear stained face is still fresh in my mind, but I stubbornly cling to the belief that somehow, through some miracle, she will come through this okay.  She is amazingly resilient, and I am hopeful, even though her pain is my pain.  I am incredibly grateful that she feels comfortable telling me about her grief, that she will allow me to hold her and comfort her, that she trusts me with her love for her dad.  I will try to honor him, even when he makes it hard for me to do so.

There is a great deal to like about my life.  I feel free, even though there is so much work to do.  I am almost afraid to spend money, and I'm being incredibly cautious about it, but I don't feel deprived.  I love my job.

And on Wednesday, I get to have a dozen girlfriends over to bless my home with laughter and burning sage.

Yes, I believe I'm in a better place.  It comes at a great cost - financial, fatigue, and the loss of the dreams I had for our small family - but it also comes with great gifts.  I feel more hopeful than I have in years, and I can breathe.  Deep, full, breaths of cool evening air after a hot day - bliss.

I will take these good days when they come!