So on my first weekend of freedom I have chosen to clean my house from top to bottom. I washed the sheets, scrubbed the counters, Fabreezed the sofa, etc. I put on whatever music I wanted to listen to and zenned out making the place I call home sparkle. It was a therapeutic release, more than anything. I got to pick whatever music I wanted to listen to. I got to absorb myself into the act of cleaning the pain out of my life and leaving myself with a polished surface again.
Some women cut their hair. I choose to clean.
It was nice. It seemed like the more I got things to the point I wanted them to be at, the more I asserted myself out from under this rock I've been flattened by. The more of me I brought back out into the light the more I wanted to put out there. Like a flower emerging through the snow. You'd think the bitter cold would be enough to kill it but still it grows, blooming despite all odds to the contrary.
And, besides, I know I'm not heartbroken. I think I fell out of love with Patrick a long time ago. In December when he told me he didn't love me and he was leaving, I know I didn't ever recover my trust for him. I think, now, that I never recovered my love for him. It's not that I didn't love him, it's just that I think I forced myself to be out of love with him in that place and I never got it back. He always had one foot out the door and I knew it. Some people just can't grow in adversity. Thankfully, I know I can.
Autumn is coming to the great Northwest again and I'm happy to be surrounded by the damp, gray days of Fall. I've always been one of those chicks that really thrives when the rain is falling. I know I'm weird for it but I can't help it! There's just something about staring at the world being drenched in rain that makes me happy and allows me to be surrounded by green for most of the year. So screw the crap!
Day 26 - 339 To Go
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