a small celebration

This sounds so silly to say but that's the whole point of this creative outlet - to put my silly thoughts into writing so I can make sense of them. Here it is: I am so proud of me. I did a scary, uncomfortable thing. A thing that wouldn't have been scary at all in my before-world when my reality wasn't shattered and things were "normal". But this thing became scary and in the past few months it had felt scarier and scarier - to the point where I didn't know if I'd be able to do it ever again. And that thought was very sad. 

I went out with my friends. My gym friends. Patrick came too. 

And it was so wonderful. It was fun and it was silly and it fed my soul and none of the big, scary things that I thought would happen happened. I didn't cry; I didn't feel like everyone was watching us and looking for cracks in our foundation; I didn't feel stupid when I answered the question, "why aren't you back at the gym?"; I honestly didn't get that question many times and when I did I was never pushed about my answers. We were met with love and support and just a fun group of people that I have missed so much. 

In full transparency, I almost couldn't do it, I almost didn't go. I attribute the eventual bravery to friends giving a little tough love and a "you will be fine" along with the magic that is alcohol. [Yes I know alcohol is not magical for everyone and it's not magical in all quantities but liquid courage is real.] I almost couldn't do it. We walked by and at first I said nope keep walking and I cried a few tears and felt sorry for myself and felt a deep terror that this fun part of my New York life was gone forever. And then I had a few drinks with dinner and I found a sense of peace and clarity. We walked back and I ripped the band-aid off and I'm so glad I did. 

I am the strong one in this situation. He messed up due to his own issues and he's working on them. And I finally just feel [mostly] sorry for her. To have self-esteem that is so low that you target the husband of someone who has only been kind to you. Do I still hate her and wish that she feels pain like she inflicted upon me? Of course I do - I didn't turn into a different person due to a few mojitos. But mostly I just feel sorry that she is so small, that she is so sad, that she is so forgotten. No one brought her up; no one misses her; she left no void. Friends were excited to see me; they were excited to see him; they were excited to see us, together. 

So I'm celebrating myself and my rebuilt relationship. I'm celebrating the friends I truly love and have missed and will continue to lean on as I continue to heal. I'm celebrating the really hard thing that is exposure therapy - meeting up with friends who are connected to a really painful thing that happened to me, by no fault of their own. Doing so outside of a bar in a neighborhood I love that is also connected to this really painful thing, by no fault of mine nor of these friends that like this particular bar. 

It's a small thing, but it's big to me and I'm celebrating it. 

I hope you have a great week and find so many little things to celebrate.