Over the past month my perspective on myself and my place in the world has changed. Not a subtle change, drastic.
Almost three years ago a depression began to creep it's way into my life. It was a slow spiral downwards that caught speed as it narrowed and left me in crisis one year ago. This year i spent in survival mode. Getting through each day. I thought i was doing well. I was doing well, but i wasn't seeing the world. I wasn't seeing the path of destruction that i left discarded behind me.
This past month i stopped and turned around. I opened my field of vision. I let everything in, the good, the bad and the ugly. I let the anger i've been carrying drop to the sides a little.
I have been blaming everyone for all my problems when, truth be told, i brought them all on myself. I looked at my husband and told him how truly sorry i am. I saw him clearly for the first time in almost a year as the man i married, the man i loved. I saw the hurt that has been tearing him apart. I saw his perfect heart, the heart i lost and i wanted it back.
I asked for it back and he gave it to me.
Being single, a single parent, has been the toughest job i have ever had.
Being single in a married world is lonely and isolating. For instance, camping, where i am with couples and their kids. I watch them have small, intimate moments at the campfire. Little nods and smiles, caresses and giggles exchanged. Even the little arguments. I miss those. The small hills and valleys that define a relationship, make it strong. Make it love.
Being single means sleeping in a tent with your children is the closest you get to intimacy. Being single means stuffing that fricking tent in it's case with only your 80 pound daughter to help you. Being single means packing odd numbers of plates and cups. Being single means driving alone up front. Being single means hours and hours of driving with nobody to complain to about all the "are we there yets?!"
Being a single parent means weekends alone in your house. Being a single parent means more freedom than you want. Being a single parent means desperate longing for your children to return to you. Being a single parent means struggle. Struggle to pay bills. Struggle to drive to activities. Being a single parent means guilt. Guilt that your kids are unhappy. Guilt that you can't do everything. Guilt that every last nerve is worn thin.
Being a single parent also means pride. Pride that you really can do it.
I arrived home late, late sunday night after spending 14 hours to travel what should have taken 3. I barely slept because i was so excited to see my kids. I swept them away from their dad's house and into the van for a windy drive to our favourite camping place on earth.
Bags left unpacked on my bed and laptop rendered useless by a sandy beach in the middle of nowhere with open ocean all the way to a very foreign land.
We spent time with friends and food and campfires and lot's of sand in our ears and sleeping bags.
It was the perfect anti-conference. I had plenty of time to process the over-stimulation that i suffered in california. BlogHer is such a great experience. Just watching all the women creating friendships and bonds over every imaginable thing. I felt such happiness watching them, never really feeling like a sideliner, just a quiet observer.
It may take confidence to walk around a place like that alone; but, for me, it was calming to quietly wander and soak in bits of conversation and sit beside friends and smile knowingly at each other when we saw or felt a special moment.
I had some really great chats with amazing women in the oddest places – between toilet stalls, in shuttles, in the middle of noisy nightclubs and elevators.
I left BlogHer without a single complaint. I had vague explanations of some dramas taking place, but really? I would be surprised if there wasn't any drama when you have a crowd of women together who pour themselves out to the world via blogs and have high expectations for a great experience.
I am just so happy to be home with my kids and spending time eating our salads from the garden, sleeping in and having silly tickle fights.
Gosh. It's been a whirlwind of a weekend. I have been, somewhat alone. But, for the first time i really haven't minded. I want to be alone.
What i realized is that, last year, people may not have been all that uncomfortable around me. I'm just, completely, socially inept. I don't like parties. I don't like staying up late hooting and hollering. I like to stay up late with the swirling in my head to keep me company.
It's been lovely, surprising and humbling to have complete strangers walk up and tell me how much they like my writing.
My panel went really well. I felt calm when i went in and calm throughout. It went by really fast and i really didn't feel like i had a chance to say much. But, it was (again) humbling and inspiring to hear words come out of my mouth that really, truly reflected my thoughts over this past year. I am here again and for awhile i didn't think i would make it. I have healed and survived and i am doing better. I never spoke those words out loud until today.
A real and true highlight for me, aside from speaking – which i am truly proud of, has been meeting and re-meeting some amazing women. Schmutzie, Angela, Alana and Rachel have been my go to people. The ones who i sit with in the morning and the evening, who i take taxis with and abandon when i'm overwhelmed. Like tonight, best laid plans to attend the cocktail party and go for dinner. I had to leave. A party in a department store? With all the lights on and people still shopping? Weird and too much for me.
I came back to my room and realized i miss being married. I am sad that i am about to fly home and be all alone again. I am tired of being alone, yet seek loneliness. I miss having someone i am completely comfortable with.
My flight here was uneventful. Uneventful and tiring.
I rode in a limo to the hotel which made me feel like an even bigger country girl because i was so excited about it.
My arrival saw me in tears at the registration desk as my credit card was denied and they wanted double the amount of cash as my total bill. I was ready to walk away when gwendomama, who is the sweetest woman in the world, swooped in and saved my day with a simple swipe of her credit card.
I have a room of my own that, despite the expense, seemed mandatory for my mental health.
Rachel and i crashed the AllTop/Kirtsy party at Guy Kawasaki's house. It was an amazing house and really a lovely party. Although i'm not listed on AllTop i can say that i licked Mr Kawasaki's pasta fork.
I'm not sure if i'm feeling a little more confidant this year, or what? But, i am having a better time, talking to more people and really not feeling the pressure or stress.