A Hard Reset

It's official: I'm over the gray, cool, rainy weather we've been having for the past three weeks. I don't live in the Pacific Northwest because I just don't like and/or enjoy day after day of gray, gloomy weather. Every now and then is fine, but for Pete's sake, enough already. Mother Nature, please be kind and give us some heat and sunshine! 

Okay, weather rant over.

Thankfully I was able to get most of the house painting finished before being sidelined by the weather. All that's left are the corbels, some of the front porch, and the basement windows. Not a lot at all, but it's quite frustrating to not be able to work and complete the job. What is finished is absolutely beautiful! Seriously beautiful. I had this vision in my mind about how the green, brown, and pale yellow would work together, and the reality is even better than what I imagined. Every time I walk the dogs and approach the house as we return, I'm struck by how the house seems so much more a part of the landscape than it used to be. It used to be the sore thumb sticking out of the earth. Now it's a grand presence, like it truly emerged from the earth and is a part of it. I can't help but smile.

I definitely couldn't have gotten as far on the house as I have without the help of my husband. Yeah, I know. I imagine this seems strange given how vehement I've been about not wanting him in my life. So here's where I am.

Four years ago I left my marriage. I was consumed by anger. I literally could not see straight because of the depths of the anger. My entire being was one big lump of swirling rage. For three years, that anger dictated the decisions I made, buying this house I now live in being one of them. I needed to put physical distance between me and my husband. I knew if I moved farther away from him, I wouldn't have to see him every single day. I wouldn't have to share Ado with him. I had already blocked him on my phone and email, so the physical distance would give me further peace. And it worked. Not having to deal with him on a daily basis, being out here in the quiet, taking all the long walks with Ado, creating my own little oasis right here . . . these helped ease the anger, let it seep out slowly but steadily. 

One morning in late January, as I sat in my favorite chair, reading a book, it occurred to me I was no longer angry. This realization brought on a rush of happiness I've not experienced before. The contentment I felt then and still feel to this day is what is dictating my decisions now, asking my husband to help me being one of those decisions. I knew when I asked him that I'd reached the point where I would not allow him to hurt me anymore. I would not allow him to force me to make decisions I did not want to make. When we started the job, there were moments of disagreement, him pushing me to do something I didn't want to do. The old me would have given in. Me now? No way. Several times I told him if he didn't like the way I wanted to do something he could leave. 

When we first started working together, I had a pretty thick wall around me. Over the last two months, the wall has come down little by little. My husband isn't a horrible guy (though I know many of my blog posts over the last four years might make him seem so). I'm not going to apologize for those. I was hurt and full to the brim with a fury I hope never to experience again. Now, being in my own space and not being completely consumed by anger, I'm finding I can see him in a different light, one where I recognize the good things far more often than I used to.

Where will this lead? Who knows. For awhile now I've lived by the no expectations and no plans mantra. This serves me well. It's difficult to be disappointed when there are no expectations. It's difficult to get upset if plans don't work out when there are no plans to begin with. I try to live just now, right here. So what will happen with me and my husband . . . that's an unknown. 

At this moment what I do know is I can see blue sky peeking between the break in the clouds. Time to get outside while the rain has stopped. Before I go, though, just one more thing: I'm treating this summer as a hard reset. I've not cycled one day. I've not written one word of a poem, short story, or that novel I've said I'm going to write. I've not taken one photo other than the before/after of the house. I've not done one yoga pose. I'm letting the moment tell me what to do. The moments of my summer have been about making my house as beautiful as it deserves to be, spending time with my boys, taking a trip to TN with my lovely children, and reading. Lots and lots of reading. I've not felt like I've wasted time at all. I have no regrets about not having done the things I used to do. Rather, I feel centered and incredibly content. When the moment to get back on the bike is here, I'll know. When the moment to write something is right, I'll know. When the moment to do the other things I enjoy doing presents itself, I'll be ready. For now, just being is enough.