Before I move on to today‘s blog entry, I would like to make a special dedication to my dear friend Rebecca’s father who passed away this week after a battle with Parkinson’s disease. She has been one of the best friends a girl could ask for and I‘m truly devastated by her loss. Becky, if you’re reading this: your family is in my thoughts and prayers and I’m sending healing vibes your way. Love you, girl.
I’ve had this post written for a while now, but a big piece of the puzzle was missing and it drove me crazy. I like music. I hope that’s not news to you, dear reader, but since I started this project I vowed that I would somehow interlace all of my posts with a lyric or song title that resonated with me at the time that it was written. For some reason, this week I was completely stuck. Then I remembered a double disc my aunt gave me some time ago and, as it turned out, it was not only the perfect rainy day soundtrack, but the woman singing nailed it on the head for me. Thank you, Mary Gauthier, for your inspired lyrics and also to my wonderful aunt Sabina for introducing me to this great talent.
I’ll come back to get you
But baby I can’t stay
The same road that brought me to you
is gonna carry me away.
I’ve come so far to stand here
I’ve earned this solid ground
I’ll fight to keep you with me
But I won’t let you take me back down.
I have been quite busy lately, which is why I haven’t blogged sooner. Last week was short, but jam-packed with music (Trey Anastasio played a sick show at Terminal 5), good friends/fine eats (I highly recommend Mario Batali’s OTTO for a ridiculous selection of cheese, wine, and olives), and a bit more drinking. This is what happens when I get paid. And this is why I will perpetually live paycheck to paycheck.
But I’m having fun. Being with Jackson for so long put the brakes on a lot of my social interactions and it feels good again to get back out there and mingle. Not that I’m any good at it but some of my guy friends have been giving me some wonderful tips and advice. It’s funny to hear their opinions on dating and relationships. I’ve come to the conclusion that we’re just wired differently. I would love to be able to have a little fun without worrying about the consequences later (as was suggested to me), but it makes me nervous all the same. I’ve never done that before but if I don’t try now, I may never have the same chance again, right?
So lately I find myself fantasizing about people I know I shouldn’t and daydreaming about becoming involved in precarious situations. This is so not very Charlotte of me. I wonder if it means I’m slowly letting go of Jackson or if I’m simply defying my own moral compass. Maybe I’m just desperate to climb out of this “woe is me” rabbit hole I’ve been stuck in since our breakup in October. Or maybe I’m having a midlife crisis. In any event, I’m ready to have some fun.
I’m also slowly purging myself of my past relationship. Sure, Jackson and I still have contact. And yes, he’ll always be a big part of my life, whether we’re in touch or not. I have nothing but good memories of our relationship and our time spent together and I’d like to hold on to those. But I also realize that it won’t help me move on and find what it is I’m looking for. I know that somewhere in this great big world there lives a man who can cook, loves dogs, and has a restless desire to see and experience it all with me. I miss sharing my bed with someone, but now, I don’t pick up the phone to call Jackson when I’m lonely. He’s not the first one I share a piece of good news with. And I no longer feel guilty when I smile at a cute stranger.
I feel this means I am making great strides.
Earlier this week I contacted a company called OutofYourLife.com and have decided to mail back a beautiful diamond necklace Jackson gave me several years ago. It hurts me to part with it but I also can’t imagine wearing it again. I’ve offered to return it to him 100 times but he told me it was meant as a gift and that he wouldn’t hear of me giving it back. What do you do with jewelry from the ex? I can’t bring myself to wear it again, no matter how much I like it. So I’m shipping it to Narberth, PA, where hopefully they’ll tell me it’s worth a huge lump sum and I can afford my backpacking adventure in Germany this summer. Or they’ll mail me a check for a fraction of what it’s actually worth (I think this might be more likely). As long as it doesn’t sit there taunting me with reminders of what once was, I am happy.
Shedding these little reminders makes me feel human again. Now that I no longer am shrouded in a veil of self pity, I laugh more than I have in ages and I have a renewed lust for life. Why did I deny myself this for so long?