Tears of joy


 Paris, Marrakech, Agra, Santorini

My kids and I have decided to spend the whole day at home today. We’ve had about as much as we can take of parties and food and holidays and people. Not that we didn’t all have a great time, mind you. But we need a break. Besides, my house looks like a bomb hit it and if anything, it’s time to hunker down and get out the cleaning products and do some much needed laundry. 

I guess my biggest hurdle this year was spending the entire holiday sans boyfriend and I did. And not only did I do it, but I had a better time alone than if i’d been dating someone. No worrying when anyone was going to show up, if they were going to show up, if they were going to dress acceptable, if they were going to ACT acceptable. Ugg. I cannot begin to tell you the YEARS I spent worrying about some man, husband or boyfriend, and whether or not he would act “appropriately.” 


Anyway, my Christmas eve was spent entirely alone. The ex-hubby has the kids that day and returns them later that same night. So I have a few hours by myself. In my married days, I had Christmas eve dinner. Then, when I divorced, and R would take the kids, I would go either to my mother’s husband’s family, or a friend’s house, or hang with G and exchange gifts. Can’t quite remember what G and I did last year. I know he was at my mother’s for Christmas dinner. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. The point is, I was alone and LOVED it. I bought myself dinner and some cool meditation stuff from Whole Foods, listened to french music and watched the movie “The Women.” At one point, on the ride home from the supermarket, I cried tears of JOY. I felt as if I had recaptured a side of me that I had lost long ago. The dreamy, peaceful side of me that loved France and dreamed up adventures to Paris and Marrakech and India and Greece. The side of me that was OK with just me. It was like revisiting an old friend whom I hadn’t seen in 20 years. 

And it didn’t stop there. I continued along this happy, dreaminess all the way through the holidays and feel it even today. 

On Christmas morning, after all the gifts were unwrapped and the boys headed over to R’s to open their gifts there, G called me. I was quite surprised. We had a lovely conversation and talked our usual hour and half, almost two hours. He slipped in a comment that changed the fabric of my being temporarily and caused me to revert back to my faulty thinking. He said: let’s start making bee traps together and sell them. I laughed at the time, but when I got off the phone, I could feel my whole body going back to the idea of G and I together. My brain, that fast, starting thinking along the lines of “we’re going to live together,” we’re going to go to Greece in the Spring,” we’re going to be married and in love again…”

Unbelievable that my brain can revert back “there” again that fast! Oh, how dangerous. That’s why I think it’s so important to NOT date during recovery. Your head becomes way too clouded with the wrong thoughts and some man’s needs take priority as opposed to yours. 

So…I don’t know if his one call will lead to another and then another. But I’ve made a bet with myself. I cannot call him, but if he calls me I will permit myself to pick up and talk and enjoy. I’m hoping that’s the right choice.

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