My last day with my ex-husband was just about 36 years ago today. That was the day I packed up my infant son, a few very special personal items, wrote a good bye note and left. That day I hit the proverbial wall on what I could handle, what I was willing to handle without any further erosion of my being. So many years later, I am still dealing with that struggle - the need to be myself, to actualize and not just just think about, what I want my life to be. Not that I have been alone all these years. My son Max and lived a very happy and close life until he came of age and moved out permanently after high school. So there was that. There have also been the long term live-in boyfriends, the no way long term and short term they will never live-in boyfriends, the not boyfriend friends, the loves, and the losses. That happened. Now I live alone as I essentially have for decades. 36 years after leaving my married life behind, have I gotten any further in the exploration of that precious "self" that I so desire? Have I acutalized anything other than the drone of day to day life? Let's see. Do idiosychrasies count? Do personal passions count? Does a raucous holiday or quiet weekend with family matter? What about traveling across country to spend time with dear friends - does that matter in a life? Do nights alone sitting by an open fire, being inspired by music, sipping champagne, petting a cat, watching the snow fall, hiking a mountain trail, planting a seed, picking a flower, dinner with friends, yoga with strangers - does any of that matter? Do I live alone? Yes. Does that matter? No.
