Warming Up to Goodbye

My first session with the new therapist was this past Monday evening. I gave him a brief overview of my experiences and their aftermath. One thing I mentioned to him was how much I miss the me I used to be, before I met Chris and even during the initial stages of our relationship.

I told him I used to be able to stay home on a weekend night, pour myself a glass of wine, put on music and rehearse showtunes for the sheer joy of knowing I would be prepared, come the next audition. I loved those evenings, getting tipsy all alone, singing and just being nice to myself. I haven’t had one of those evenings for the past seven years, or so, since Chris and I moved to Los Angeles.

Tonight is one of those nights. I’m feeling light and happy. I had a glass of wine with my friend, Robby, after work (after much coercing on my part -- he was “too tired to come out”, but guess what...he did!) and then hopped back on the train, rode one stop to Porter Square, ordered the delicious super carnitas burrito from Anna’s Tacqueria that I had been craving since I woke up this morning, hopped back on the train to Harvard Square and rode home on a bus. I changed into jeans and a t-shirt, planted myself on my living room sofa and devoured my regale.

I began to become aware of my natural high on my walk from the bus stop to my apartment, when the thought occured to me that tonight is a celebration, a gala of sorts.

Saying goodbye to Clay, last night, devastated me...for a day and a half. A day and a half is a substsantial amount of time to grieve a loss when the person being grieved is alive and well.

The real deal is that, tonight, I stepped outside of my past, and Clay is one of the last shreds of that past. In letting him go, I released myself from the grip of last night’s anguish. I didn’t become aware of the positive aspects of my having mustered up the courage to release him until this evening.

I am sitting on my sofa digesting my burrito, which is nicely absorbing some of the wine from my system. I feel happy.

I don’t know whether this feeling will last, or not, but I know that I am not going to take the gift for granted. If there’s one thing I have learned in the past four years, it's that grief has a way of seeming linear at times, but that a grief-surge can ambush a person from behind when she’s least expecting the attack.

I never thought I could say goodbye to Clay. I never thought I, all by myself, could ask for a raise, be refused, and kick off a nine-month job search that would result in my getting a better job, where I fit in completely, love the work and can wear jeans anytime I choose. I never thought I could afford to live in Cambridge by myself. I never thought I could recapture the eurphoria of being home alone, enjoying myself, drinking wine and eating delectible food in the complete absense of anxiety...but tonight I am doing just that.

Just four hours ago, I was not able to think about Clay without becoming teary-eyed and choked-up, and now I feel quietly serene. Letting go of Clay was my launching pad, and I am overwhemled with thoughts of everything else I can accomplish.

I feel good, tonight. I feel free, happy and -- although I hesitate to speak so soon -- I feel peaceful.

Shneed