I moved my last post back to the draft folder.  I was hesitant to publish it at all, even privately, and bare myself so completely as to the struggle of emotions.

Those of you who read and as usual, supported me, thank you.  Your words mean so much and I feel each one of them as a warm embrace.

The sheer act of writing has brought about some form of catharsis.  The emotions have shifted to something different, less intense and not quite as crushing.

Life and the act of living it never ceases to ebb and flow.  The waters rush in and bring forth a wave of the unexpected and just as suddenly recede and take with them part of me.

***

I so rarely have time to write in this space now.  I thought after the divorce, it would be the opposite.

Work has gotten busier.

Now only having Ava for half the time, I find myself tethered much less to the online world when I’m with her.  It’s our time, and it’s precious time.  I don’t want her to look back in 20 years and remember me as always on the computer or always checking my phone.

I took a chance and started doing something I enjoy – food blogging.  I don’t know where it will lead, if anywhere. But I’m having fun doing it, most of the time, although it does seem to take up time that I used to spend here, writing.

I’ve been working on learning how to use the fancy camera I bought for myself a couple years ago.  I would love to be able to take photographs that are frame-worthy, instead of  “Oh, dear, I think we’ll just delete that one”.

They say that 40 is when a people really start to know themselves.  I’ll be 39 in less than a month, and as I approach that number, I see that there is definitely some truth to that.   I think it’s also an age in which we are more easily able to identify the disingenuous in others as well.  I see things, and people so much more clearly now than before.  Sometimes it comes as a great surprise to know that in which you have counted on was not in fact, what you ever thought it was.  Or maybe you did, but you convinced yourself otherwise.  It gets harder to lie to one’s self as you age, I think.  It’s harder for you brain to play along.

I find I’m much better able to pick my battles.  I find myself backing away from things more often, knowing I would be fighting a losing battle.

I rediscovered the pleasure of sleeping alone.  At first it was strange, after sharing a bed for 12 years.  But after the oddness wore off, I found how much I love it.  I can stay up late watching tv in bed, or reading a book.  I can toss and turn and not worry that I’ll wake anyone.  I don’t have to worry that my body pillow and I are taking up too much room.  There is no snoring to keep me awake.

Of course, I enjoy cuddling with Ava on our “sleepover nights”, which happen once a week.  It’s nice to be able to reach out and have her hold on to my hand as she sleeps.  I’ll savor that for as long as she will let me, for I know the day is coming when even a hug from me will seem “uncool”.

I enjoy a girls’ night out with a friend now and then.  Something that I never used to do, but I find now to be immensely fun.

I got on a plane last year for the first time in several years.  It was terrifying and thrilling and I can’t wait to do it again.

I discovered the kind of friends that all women should have: honest and steadfast.  The kind that will tell you when you’re being a jackass, hold you up when you’re falling down, and find places to bury the bodies.  The kind of friends that will be around in 50 years when we’re all hard of hearing and are yelling at each other over the breakfast table at I-Hop.

When you’re alone, especially after a life changing event, it’s almost impossible not to do a lot of navel gazing and introspection.  I’m not perfect and a lot of my failures and flaws led me right to where I am today.

I’m getting better and discerning what truly makes me happy and what was just filler for when I wasn’t.  Maybe that’s the secret of life.