Oh hey guys, what’s up? How’ve you been this terrible February? I’m still here, trying to conduct as little self-destructive behavior as possible. You know. The usual.
It’s been three weeks. I’ve been doing this for 21 days now, but sometimes (most of the time?) it doesn’t feel yet like I am single. An awesome circle of friends has seen to it that I have plans every night, and my budget has seen to it that I don’t just buy wine in bulk and spend my time drinking alone on my couch.
I don’t particularly like living alone, for the most part. I kind of suspected I wouldn’t, but it’s still disappointing. I should appreciate the independence of it all, but it’s not as easy as I thought. I used to like the rare nights when Kevin had board game nights with friends, so I could get things done in peace or, more often than not, watch the shows and movies I knew he didn’t care about missing. I’d drink the kinds of beer he didn’t like as much, and order a pizza with whatever I wanted on it.
Now I guess I can watch/eat/wear/do/decorate the apartment with whatever I want. But I never felt like I couldn’t before. I was already being my complete, true self and it hadn’t mattered a bit that someone else was there to see it.
When Kevin lived with me there were lots of lots of work nights where we’d eat in front of the TV and fall asleep together on the couch while “West Wing” episodes played on Netflix in the background. I’d later think to myself, what a waste of an evening. Now, I can be super productive and do my laundry while working out at the gym next door and hit the grocery store on my way home, and maybe I’ll feel proud of my hard work for a bit. But there will still be that little voice in the back of my brain that’s telling me, no, that was a waste of an evening.
Everything wakes me up now. The near-deaf girl who slept like a rock for the last two-and-a-half years? Turns out she can hear her neighbors tossing over in bed in the middle of the night, because now she’s convinced there are never not burglars roaming the halls waiting to murder her and steal her comically-small TV. I’m sure that will just be a matter of adjusting. (Right?)
On the other hand, I’ve rarely had more things to look forward to at once as I do in this moment: I am flying to California to see Eileen in a couple of weeks, just for a weekend out of snowy, treacherous Chicago. Then in May, I’m going to Boston Calling, a music festival with a band line up tailor-made for me: Death Cab, Jenny Lewis, Tegan and Sara, AND Modest Mouse, among others. I’ve never been to Boston before, and I get to stay with a wonderful friend there.
I’m excited for it to be warm again, someday. I look forward to music Mondays in the park with wine and friends. I look forward to people back home wanting to visit my city when it’s not frozen and intolerable. I look forward to listening to summery, non-break-up-related music. Someday, these things will happen.
All I can do now is wait for a time when it’s not below zero degrees out, and a time when I no longer feel like I do right now. It’s coming, you guys. Just wait for it.