My prissy post

I've been thinking these last couple days what I want, what I need and what things are luxuries.

I've decided that even though I like to think of myself as a pretty low maintenance, beyond a few days (or in some cases, weeks) there are just some things I like to not have to live without.

soft towels
the occasional handful of m&m's
pretty underwear
a clean refrigerator
hot coffee
good books
organic milk
girly soap

The list may change; I try to be simple but I still have preferences.


I’m thankful my family is healthy and that they enjoyed their day, even if I couldn’t be with them.

I’m thankful that friends answer my calls whether I have tears, fear or excitement in my voice.

I’m thankful that there’s a houseful at my old apartment; so that he doesn’t have to be alone on Thanksgiving.

I’m thankful for the support from each of you.

I’m thankful for each and every thing done prior to and since my arrival.

I’m thankful to not have to spend the day alone.

Alive and well?

I am alive.  I'd say alive and well, but well, that's just sketchy in the quiet moments.

I find moments of peace, here and there, but there are just as many moments of conflict.

His calls and emails are unsettling.  I'm glad to hear from him.  To know he's ok, soothes a little part of me.  And yet, hearing from him breaks my heart.  The gulp he holds back when he talks.  The pain he conveys in a voicemail message, or via an email.  I wasn't sure I could live with myself if I stayed.  I'm not sure I can live with myself now that I've gone.


I go through files, keeping only the necessary papers. 

Double checking clothes and shoes; seeing what fits, deciding what should be taken now and what can wait.  Tossing anything not worth mending or that seems to have gone out of style.

Hanging on to the things that have value of some sort, and making trips to the dumpster to discard the things I've held onto without knowing why.

Organizing the things I know I'll want at some point, but can't deal with right now.

I'm overwhelmed, and it's not really the boxes.  It's what comes next.  It's the worry about getting where I'm going.  The doubt that comes with change. 

Insert annoyed groan here

I love my father.

I hate that because he lost his job he has nothing better to do than sit around all day thinking of ways to "fix" my life.

I hate that he calls my husband to give him a talking to and that he does so because apparently my husband's father called him.

Then my father calls me and informs me he will be calling later tonight with my mother to speak to me.

My wedding night would have been much stranger with my father and father in law there.

One week

Next Sunday, I'll be leaving.

I'm overwhelmed at the thought of walking out the door, knowing that no matter what has happened, I'm breaking his heart.

I do believe it's better in the long run.  I believe it's best for both of us.  I believe I'm doing what I have to do.

Still, I know, even with all the conversations; even with everything we've gone through, there's so much he doesn't understand.  I know when I close that door behind me, he'll be behind it, he'll be devastated and so very hurt.

But, I still have to go; and he'll never know that it hurts me too.