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Introspection
Nov. 4th, 2007 11:34 amA year ago, I was going through hell as my marriage desintegrated. I thought I'd be more upset at the anniversary of that, but to be honest, aside from a couple of frustrated bouts of 5-minutes-of-almost-crying, which hadn't happened in months, I'm fine. Relieved is more like it. And because of the way things played out, I can rest assured in the knowledge that I did everything I could to make things better. And when that didn't work, I took the high road, despite how easy it was (and still would be) to make G's and the cow's life even more miserable than it already is.
One of the few regrets I had when I moved in with G was that I would never have been truly on my own, i.e. living alone and unattached. I'd already been dating G for a while when I moved out of my parents' house, and it wasn't as though I'd moved very far away. At the time, I'm sure he would have been happy for me to move in with him right away, but I explained that I wanted to have at least some experience with living alone, seeing as how I hadn't done it during university, so this was a compromise.
Now, I have that life I imagined I'd missed out on. Answering to no one, coming home to my tiny little apartment with a tray of sushi, going on long walks or bike rides by myself, squashing cockroaches like a big girl. When I didn't expect that I'd live this, it had a sort of romantic, twinge-inducing feeling of loneliness to it. Now that I'm here, it's not like that most of the time. I like my little routine, and I've always been something of a loner, perfectly capable of keeping myself occupied. I have my books, my sewing, my knitting, my internet connection, my bicycle and my own two feet, which is plenty. My apartment is small, but I've gotten used to that. Indeed, I was checking out apartment listings the other day, seeing one in the same neighbourhood that had two actual bedrooms, as opposed to a single all-purpose room. My second thought, after "Damn, that's a bit too expensive," was, "What would I do with all that space?"
It would be useful for guests, such as A-L, who's arriving this afternoon. Too bad she's landing at nightfall, she won't get to see the city on the train ride in. Until then, I still have to do some cleaning, and maybe get some sewing in.
One of the few regrets I had when I moved in with G was that I would never have been truly on my own, i.e. living alone and unattached. I'd already been dating G for a while when I moved out of my parents' house, and it wasn't as though I'd moved very far away. At the time, I'm sure he would have been happy for me to move in with him right away, but I explained that I wanted to have at least some experience with living alone, seeing as how I hadn't done it during university, so this was a compromise.
Now, I have that life I imagined I'd missed out on. Answering to no one, coming home to my tiny little apartment with a tray of sushi, going on long walks or bike rides by myself, squashing cockroaches like a big girl. When I didn't expect that I'd live this, it had a sort of romantic, twinge-inducing feeling of loneliness to it. Now that I'm here, it's not like that most of the time. I like my little routine, and I've always been something of a loner, perfectly capable of keeping myself occupied. I have my books, my sewing, my knitting, my internet connection, my bicycle and my own two feet, which is plenty. My apartment is small, but I've gotten used to that. Indeed, I was checking out apartment listings the other day, seeing one in the same neighbourhood that had two actual bedrooms, as opposed to a single all-purpose room. My second thought, after "Damn, that's a bit too expensive," was, "What would I do with all that space?"
It would be useful for guests, such as A-L, who's arriving this afternoon. Too bad she's landing at nightfall, she won't get to see the city on the train ride in. Until then, I still have to do some cleaning, and maybe get some sewing in.
