Far Away

I'm not gonna lie-- I'm kind of over this breakup. It's been the toughest of my quarter-century life. However, I know that if I ever date again (however unlikely that may be), the ensuing breakup will inevitably be even harder than this one. Why? because in each relationship I somehow manage to let myself believe the lies that men in this culture are trained from childhood to tell women. Men are trained to tell these lies because women believe them.

But all that's beside the point. Really.

Perhaps it's been work. Perhaps the business of gathering my things together to move in a few weeks. Perhaps the starting of a new non-profit to promote non-political environmental stewardship.

But in all these things I've felt very distant lately. Distant from myself. As if I am dwelling just outside my head, looking over at myself. I find myself staring off and tuning out when someone's talking to me. I daydream. I don't feel like myself.

When I gaze into a mirror, I can only shrug and determine that what I see is as good as it's going to get. I go to work and smile widely, hi-five my coworkers, joke loudly in the break room, greet customers with zeal. I love my job, and I love that I have a future there.

I drive home listening to classical music, clearing my head. And then I sit, feet on the coffee table, laptop lain across my legs. I sit and I unwind. My heart and mind unravel slowly, like changing a bandage at the end of a long day. It's a soothing practice. I recharge, winding up for the next day.

Maybe I feel out of my depth a little bit. As if my entire day is spent treading water.

When I recalibrate at the end of the day, I am flying home. My feet finally hit firm ground, where I know myself. Here, in my room, there's no one to see me, to judge me, to say hurtful things.

Here, alone, I am most myself.