IAmNotBritish, episode twenty-seven
Happy Brunch Sunday from Florida. Let's raise our mimosas or mugs and clink a cheers to a bit of connection between work, notices and ads in your inbox...
Everything is slightly off. The same, but ever-so different. Aside from a little storm coming up the coast, the physical state of things is absolutely normal. Outside this house, the sun set and rose up.
The c-virus is still a thing, especially in my state. But inside there are dusty spaces where furniture used to be.
We decided. A while ago. Corona put us off for four months, but now my husband has moved out.
It was a sleek process.
I have a belief--when things go smoothly, they are "right" or a good choice or the path for this time, for my best good and those around me. This philosophy has been proven repeatedly. When there is resistance, either in a feeling or actions, that deserves a pause.
Or an about face.
This, of course, is just a psychological bend of the brain. But it feels confirming to walk forward in a smooth path, with no obstacles in the way.
Our plan was to separate after his trip in March. April...May first at the latest, he would move out.
14-day quarantine after three flights and two international airports.
There has been peace in the decision, and most of this summer has been peaceful in the waiting.
Now it has happened, another smooth process--despite U-haul's reservation policy of lie and deny.
I considered NOT writing today. Postponing until I could have a better topic. Perhaps riding out this rainy week and rising again next weekend with a Perfectly Peaceful and Optimistic smile, or an advocating allyship of accusings or something else similar to what I have written in past letters.
The truth is, future letters have not been written. There is no plan. There never was.
I wake on Sunday and sit with my mug and type a sentence--which leads to meandering paragraphs.
This life gets made up as we go, either hoping for the best or fearful of the future, or probably a combination of both. It's the best we can do at the time.
I can't be the one to say it this week--BE positive, BE loving, live your best life today, don't wait for tomorrow. All of those commands would fit in this space.
What is my best I can give to you today? What is my best I can give to myself?
Every human has their own set of circumstances. Embrace yours, is what I say.
You may truly buckle under those of your neighbors.
Do not feel sorry for me. We chose this, and a decision was made with clarity and peace and compassion. It is heavy, but half of life is, correct? This will get better. I hope you will stick around to see it.
Future is not a word to be afraid of.
Today's Deep Breath: (Here's a practical juju nugget, a Collective Next Best Decision.)
I woke up last night at three and stumbled through typing some gibberish as a draft for today. I had been in bed for five hours, the intensity of the anxiety creeping up from my stomach, heart racing, struggling to practice my breath. I took another Valerian capsule, nature's Xanax, and eventually laid on my tummy to quiet it.
The thought: I don't want to feel this.
I created it.
Today, which is all I can plan ahead at the moment, I will not resist my emotions. I will journal about them, feel them, and eventually--they will pass. I do not want to be processing this weekend in a year or three years.
Feel it now, is the best I've got for us today.
Util next time,