I know my postings have been light lately.  It’s not for want of material, but rather a career and current projects that have overwhelmed me.

Where should I start?  I can tell you about my birthday, which, by some grace of some higher power, was actually quiet fun even if it was in a room full of strangers.  I ate, I drank, I laughed, I flirted – and went home one year older and alone.  I can tell you about the emotional hangover that came the day after – so much so that I “un-hid” his profile again (back to day 1 on “searching”).  I could tell you about my first date since the breakup – he was just getting out of a marriage of 22 years (just like my ex), with two kids (just like my ex), and lives in F (just like my ex).  I’m not walking into the bear trap twice (or at least not this soon).  I told him the truth about what happened and why I can’t see him again.  I can tell you about my first visit to a shrink.  I have a feeling I’m going to be paying this woman a lot of money to hear her say “that must have really made you feel sad”.

But here I am tonight, in a city other than my own, with a raw throat that threatens sickness, with swollen eyes from crying so hard as I finished A Thousand Splendid Suns wondering what to do as the sun sets – I can eat room service (again), I can go downstairs to the overpriced steakhouse (if I touched up my eye makeup), I can go to my favorite restaurant around the corner for their famous happy hour – none of it appeals to me, and I’ve eaten almost nothing all day.

I’ve decided to take a solo vacation in July when work finally slows down.  I realize that nothing gets me excited – Spain, Belize, Buenos Aires, Costa Rica?  Spa trip? Yoga trip?  It all just feels so sad to me – wandering around a city alone.  I used to travel alone all of the time.  I realize it’s a sign of my depression – things that I once loved no longer interest me.  It’s the reason I’ve lost 18 pounds.

The therapist helped.  It felt cathartic after our session.  I’m looking forward to seeing her again on Monday.  I’m looking forward to getting home – I could have left tonight.  I should have changed my flight.  A rub from my cat could have been cathartic as well.

Room service won out tonight.  You probably already knew that.

Days since I’ve contacted my ex:  51 (15 days to go)

Days since I’ve searched for my ex: 3 (relapse)

What I am grateful for:  The strangers who got me through my birthday.


Birthday cake for one, please

My best friend (and my only friend living here) is having LASIX surgery on my birthday next month, which, she informed me, means that she will not be available to celebrate with me.  She was my lifeline – the solution to my first birthday without him.

I’m turning 45.  That’s considered a “milestone” birthday, isn’t it? It’s on a Friday, a great night to celebrate – if I had something to celebrate, and someone to celebrate it with.

I know this pain will come and go. I’ve actually been doing pretty well these last few days (I deleted all of his photos off my Facebook page today in my continued effort to “move on”), but the realization that I will be celebrating my 45th birthday alone is hitting me hard.

My family doesn’t acknowledge birthdays anymore and my friends have other things to do.  I’ll receive a perfunctory card from my office.  I wonder if he will even realize it’s my birthday when the day comes?  Probably not.

Maybe a new year that begins so pathetically foretells a magnificent ending – in like a worm and out like a viper?

Blow Harder


I had a birthday last week.  An uneventful birthday.  One more link in the chain of many birthdays that came before it. 

A few years ago, I began the practice of viewing each year’s birthday as a microcosmic snapshot of my life.  It’s a day to take stock of the things that are important to me – are my friendships healthy and happy?  Do I have a good romantic life?  Am I fulfilled at work?   Am I spending time with my family?  Is art and creativity a part of my life?  Have I done something interesting lately?  Am I taking care of myself?  Do I like who I am?

This is the first year since I began this tradition that I wasn’t pleased with the answers.