The Naked Redhead is always a good read and it's still not porn. This is a recent and very poignant posting on moving on and all that....
Yesterday I officially closed a chapter in my life and began a new one.
I moved into an apartment all by my lonesome for the first time in my life...sans husband, gay roommate (the best kind), or boyfriend. The place is a disaster, but it's mine, and I already feel at home, despite an outdated kitchen, rickety floorboards and horribly drafty windows.
I went ahead and painted my bedroom a bright fuchsia...not necessarily because I like fuchsia, but because for the first time, I don't have to consider a male's perspective on how I decorate.
Because kids, let's just face it...I have a bad serial monogamy problem. I have a very, very bad "fixing" complex. And I have a super horrible habit of neglecting what I need to do for what I perceive others needing me to do and be.
I'm not complaining. I'm really not. "It's better to have loved and lost..." and all that shit. That statement is something I believe (although, if we're being honest, I do have moments where I wonder if I've missed my shot. I've had more love in nine years than some have had in a lifetime. Maybe that'll be it for me. I guess I should feel lucky, but sometimes it reeks of loneliness). But I also need some time to be free. To be me. To explore my full potential...to be stupidly busy, to put my nose to the grindstone, to work, to find out what I'm truly made of.
And you guys? It's already been so fruitful. I was contacted last week to do work for a dream gig of mine, I've booked more speaking engagements, I've made some of the most wonderful friends I've ever had, and I'm tapping into places I didn't know existed. You know, inside. Of me. And whatnot.
This new chapter has not come without pain, but it's a story with a happy ending. And I cannot wait to tell you all about it.