Heart Closed, Must detour

I am constantly moving and always have been.
To steal from the lovely Bebe today, I learned the following.  I didn’t learn it, it slapped me square in the face. Open-handed.  To paraphrase: I am not even legally separated. I have had a long cold (at least the physical part) marriage. I dated 2 minutes after I moved in alone for the first time in my life, with a less than one year old in tow…in that short short short bit of time what kind of person did I think I was going to nab? And if I did nab the genuine article, how would it have played? I haven’t even stopped to smell the roses yet.  Not only roses, but I haven’t ever stopped to do anything.  And when I do, I feel the hurt.  A hurt I say I want to feel completely but then I try to hide.
So I go out with a guy I’m not even that interested in, I drink excessive amounts of alcohol, I clean frantically and I never ever ever sit still alone in this house, yet I complain I don’t have time to really grieve this.
All my life I’ve been sitting on the edge of my chair waiting for the other shoe to drop or the escape route or the alternate plan just in case this falls through. The way out of the danger or the bad times because I know I’m ultimately alone and responsible for myself.  I’ve got one foot out the door and no eyes on the road.  I’ve always got my brain 10 steps ahead.
I’m finally admitting, it’s exhausting.  Absolutely.  I get lost in all that madness and never come out better.  I am done with it.  All.
No more boys, no more excessive amounts of alcohol (this really hasn’t been a problem to change, thank god), I’m focusing on my kid, myself and I’m writing down every single goal I want for myself for my future and ONLY myself.
A pen in my hand and no one in my head and I’ve never felt so light.

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