The Simple Life
The post-girlfriend, post-novel life:
On weekends, I don't really know what to do with myself. I don't have to spend time working on the novels, or procrastinating work on the novels. It's a sense of weightlessness: free from the overwork that weighed me down, but also not anchored by a given What I Should Be Doing.
I also don't have to feel guilt any second that I'm not working, which feels wonderful but also confusing. The guilt tries to find somewhere else to go. I'm just used to it being there, so now in between the moments when I can breathe more freely than before, I have moments where my brain gets on my case with other Shoulds. Other ways I'm failing to Do Something I Should Be Doing.
Now single, I don't have to carry the weight of a dead relationship, but I don't have another presence to anchor me in life either. I don't have a hopelessness hanging over my head anymore, waiting to descend at any moment, but in exchange I have anger hanging over my head in its place, just as likely to descend and take over my thoughts.
I have time. In the last seven days I've cleaned and rearranged an end table I'd been meaning to deal with, organized all the maintenance records on my car and determined what I need and don't need to have done now, voted, taken an extra yoga class, written some copy for my bell choir, negotiated a six-month lease renewal, set up a more comprehensive online backup system for my computer files, talked to some potential clients about future projects, caught myself up on Burn Notice (as of five minutes ago), and gotten an Amazon gift card out of limbo and spent it on fun chapsticks. So, a mix of useful things and fun things.
I had a particularly good yoga class on Friday.
The dialogue in my head is a mixture of pride and frustration. There's a lot left to do, but there's also a little more space in my life.
My life is actually a lot simpler now.
On weekends, I don't really know what to do with myself. I don't have to spend time working on the novels, or procrastinating work on the novels. It's a sense of weightlessness: free from the overwork that weighed me down, but also not anchored by a given What I Should Be Doing.
I also don't have to feel guilt any second that I'm not working, which feels wonderful but also confusing. The guilt tries to find somewhere else to go. I'm just used to it being there, so now in between the moments when I can breathe more freely than before, I have moments where my brain gets on my case with other Shoulds. Other ways I'm failing to Do Something I Should Be Doing.
Now single, I don't have to carry the weight of a dead relationship, but I don't have another presence to anchor me in life either. I don't have a hopelessness hanging over my head anymore, waiting to descend at any moment, but in exchange I have anger hanging over my head in its place, just as likely to descend and take over my thoughts.
I have time. In the last seven days I've cleaned and rearranged an end table I'd been meaning to deal with, organized all the maintenance records on my car and determined what I need and don't need to have done now, voted, taken an extra yoga class, written some copy for my bell choir, negotiated a six-month lease renewal, set up a more comprehensive online backup system for my computer files, talked to some potential clients about future projects, caught myself up on Burn Notice (as of five minutes ago), and gotten an Amazon gift card out of limbo and spent it on fun chapsticks. So, a mix of useful things and fun things.
I had a particularly good yoga class on Friday.
The dialogue in my head is a mixture of pride and frustration. There's a lot left to do, but there's also a little more space in my life.
My life is actually a lot simpler now.