At the Margins

I’m still here, I promise.

The days have been running away from me.  My hard drive on my computer was replaced for a second time, and that put a damper on writing.

Work has been busy enough to make my head spin.

Training has been that special kind of intense, where every week-day is a blur, and every weekend means getting up at 5am for races.  The life of a runner is an unglamourous one.  It’s one of blood, and raw skin, and sweat, and human waste.  The tight-tights may make for a sexy look from a-far.  But I warn you — don’t come too close.  Running is capital-G-Gross.

And speaking of gross things, the emotional backwash that comes with a divorce bubbles up like bile in the throat every few days.  Like cleaning out a closet and finding an old lipgloss — one of the ones that he had scoured the city for one Valentine’s Day when they were discontinuing the color.  He’d presented me, on the “holiday,” with a box overflowing with lipglosses.  We never celebrated — I thought it was a stupid faux-holiday; we weren’t romantic.

But clearing the detritus of a dead marriage is like removing the belongings of a dead relative.  Even when you think that the traces of dearly departed, ornery old Grandma are gone, a pair of her reading glasses or knitting needles appears and the process begins anew.  And you discover new things about yourself each time you find some mislaid or forgotten treasure.

Oh, that lipgloss.  That lipgloss that Frederic used to say smelled like dirt.  That lipgloss that I loved so much.

The memories all get tangled up; tied up together.  So I can’t separate the husband from the catastrophic love from the loneliness.

The lipgloss that should have reminded me of my husband but instead reminds me, some, of F, too.

The memories are laced with judgment.

Judgment of myself for not being a romantic; judgment of my marriage; judgment of me for whether and when I was ENOUGH.

It’s all a process — this grief.  A work in progress.

That’s the 35,000 ft. view of what I’ve been doing during this brief hiatus.  If you follow me on twitter, you’ve also gotten the day-to-day on my mad-cap adventures on the commuter train and my fundraising efforts for Team For Kids.

I hope to resume marginally more interesting living soon.

Carry on.

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