I was overwhelmed by the response to last night's blog post. Sure, some of it was the natural tendency people have to pause and look at a train wreck (and I have felt like one lately). But in addition to having my most widely-read post ever, I had an outpouring of sympathy and love that surprised me and comforted me in a very real way. I heard from friends who I haven't gotten to talk to in ages, some of them in years. I got two solid dates for next week with girlfriends who aren't going to let me crawl into a hole and cry away my sorrows alone. I appreciated every response, even if it was just hitting the reaction button on Facebook. I agonized over what I would say for weeks, and how it would be received. I've been very afraid of splitting up the friends. I don't want to do that. I don't want to take friends away from him, and I don't want people I thought cared about me to drop me because of the separation. I know a few will become distant, and some will disappear altogether. I don't like it, and I want to mitigate the losses as much as possible. Thank you to everyone who contacted us, privately or publicly, individually or collectively, with words of comfort. Thank you a thousand times over.
I had to face today like it was just another workday, even though I had just stood up and bared my worst pain to the entire internet the night before. I went to a productive sales meeting in the morning and showed a gorgeous house in the evening. I need to make life feel normal even while it isn't. I hope my friends and coworkers are okay with me seeming calm one minute and then having mini-freakouts the next. I promise my moods will stabilize as the weeks pass. I just might say some weird stuff that sounds like total non sequiturs (more weird than usual) for a while. You'll get used to it.
My garden is still coming along nicely. Those peonies I have been watching like a hawk for weeks are finally on the verge of blooming. The neighbor across the street has three giant peony bushes in full bloom, but I can tell hers get much more sun than mine. Maybe tomorrow they will finally open for me. The house I showed this evening had a sign that I need to remember as a paver in the front yard. It said, "To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow." I've had a hard time believing in tomorrow lately, but as I bond with my new Park in its first full growing season, maybe I will begin to again.
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