I am pleased to announce that I am well on the way to complete recovery from my broken wrist. Skipping straight from the surgical dressing into a brace (no cast) I am finding myself able to return to my daily activities much sooner than I had expected. My pride at being able to dress myself (this morning I tied my own boots for the first time since the accident) is overshadowed only by the knowledge that I will soon be driving again and with that event comes the final meeting with my ex (to sign and cash the state tax check) and the application for my new identification. I will return to my original surname never to be changed again regardless of marital status. I think the act of changing the woman�s name to match the man�s is out-dated and a bit chauvinistic. As for children, I suspect the obvious choice for naming would be after the mother since naming after both would get cumbersome fast, and maternal connection is unarguable (DNA is good enough for the family courts but it isn�t 100%).

I experienced a meltdown Monday night, not as severe as before my medication but it still felt out of control (crazy). I was trying to place my finger on where it was all coming from. I was reaching out to my Beau trying to determine what road we were traveling and whether we were traveling as individuals or as a we. I am contemplating the fact that I am forty-one and potentially though my reproductive years and just how I feel about that particular fact. And then it occurred to me that one year ago that day exactly I was driving around with a suitcase full of stuff, sleeping at a friends house and then going into work while my ex was living in my RV with his girlfriend. A year ago last night I wouldn�t let them back in the RV and had to call the cops when he kept banging on the door and wouldn�t leave. When he finally left (before the police arrived of course) I sat out on my front lawn weeping as the police officer explained to me how to get a restraining order. I remember thinking at the time that I was no different than the woman I used to see on cops (a show my ex seemed fascinated with and somehow managed to find on TV several times a day). I sat on the ground and wept feeling as though I would never be happy again and wanting very much to die just to be done with it all.

Fast forward exactly one year. My life continues to improve as I finish up with the old and start into the new. My belongings have been surrendered by my ex�s family with courtesy and conscientiousness. My ex mother-in-law making sure that everything (including things I hadn�t remembered, and one clock I still don�t remember owning) was given back to me suggesting that perhaps they were not completely fooled into believing that this divorce was �all my fault�.

Despite my broken wrist I am continuing to make a splash at my job that will hopefully mean the promotion in April I was promised when I took this position. If not I will find another company more appreciative of the experience and skills I have to offer.

I am in fact part of a we, my Beau and I solidifying or relationship a little more as we contemplate official cohabitation. I will always have some trepidation at dependence on another and loving someone but I can not return to the self inflicted prison I habited before my ex simply because that bet didn�t pay off. I am not a gambler but life is, by definition, a game of chance so locking myself away simply guarantees a losing roll.

So I will play the game, honestly and heart fully, and hope that there is such a thing as Karma. Perhaps it is finally my turn to be happy. Maybe I will never be happy but at least there is the chance that I will not be desperately sad and lonely.

I listen to the happy voices of the ladies I work with wondering how I can be so different (am I so different?) and why I can�t feel the way they seem to (operating words �seem to�). I suppose to the outside world I don�t appear all that different. The people I work with are unaware of my mental illness, previous addictions, and all the useless crap I carry in my head the better to dig through and beat myself with. I expect on the outside I appear to be a together, intelligent, humorous and happy woman. The people I most admire return the favor much to my surprise and delight and still I can�t see myself through their eyes.

My hope is to meet a few aspirations in my life. I am hoping to be able to say I never knowingly hurt another person through anger or spite. That my ignorance has not caused another�s pain. And that the people who have loved or cared for me will remember me with a smile. That I think is all I can hope for.

I wish you Peace

~alison~

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