I am terribly sentimental. I have a habit (as you long-time readers may know --all three of you), of constantly re-evaluating where I am in my life, and where I was exactly one year/two years/five years ago that day. I tend to benchmark my life's progression by what all I have done with it. And I am constantly disappointed, no matter how much I do and how much I accomplish.
And you know what? That ends today. Right now. I am so tired of beating myself up and it's doing no one a damn bit of good, especially not myself.
I just spent seven wonderful days at home with my family, and crammed in as many friends as possible. One night, I went to three different friends houses in the course of 4 hours, just so I could be sure to see everyone. I had babies spit up on me, swung countless pre-schoolers through the air and onto the couch making them scream with laughter. I counseled my fifteen year old neice on the dangers of drugs, boys and Justin Beiber --I think she didn't enjoy our counseling session nearly as much as I enjoyed giving it :)
I never slept alone. A kid or two or a friend was always with me throughout the entire trip. And yesterday, I returned to DC, back to a life that is nearly always lived alone save for work and the few friends I have here. And that is okay, honestly. It won't be like this forever, and I know I am doing the right thing for me at the right time. The reassurance I have of that just gentle knowing is a peace that sustains me beyond belief.
So one year ago today? I was spending day two in my new apartment. I probably cried a little bit, and I remember taking a long walk trying to figure out the bus routes. The amount of stuff that's happened to me since that day blows my mind.
I'm sitting here one block away from that same apartment, at a local coffee shop, about to eat an omelette and I have tea beside me. I am going to drink mimosas with a friend at the dog park later as we let her puppies roam, and then I have a first date tonight. I am back on the dating wagon, so buckle up tight.
And in the immortal words of Whitesnake--here I go again on my own.
I think it's going to be okay.