Progress is Cathartic

Progress is finally being made, and that feels really good. The knot in my stomach is the closest to being loosened it’s been since I got out here. What caused the release? A few things… the big one is that Mickey and I have actually gotten a lot of the things we need to do done or started, which is a big load off my shoulders. I’ve emailed the realtor we bought the house through about selling the house, called and made an appointement for a consultation with a lawyer to make sure we’re doing the paperwork right and get it to say what we want it to say. Accounts are either switched or we know what needs to happen to switch them now. As it stands, I need to finish packing (doing portable storage, the container arrives Friday), and ship out what I need/want to ship back to Vermont, and sign a piece of paper at the bank.

There are other things that are making me less stressed, too. Mickey and her father (Hi Pete!) were kind enough to rent me a car so I can get around reasonably while out here, without relying on rides. Also, Mickey has agreed to at least try and not sleep with George while we’re dealing with this. (This is bigger than some of you might realize. Some might say, “Well, the relationship is already over, what does it matter if she sleeps with someone else?” And if we weren’t trying to salvage a friendship, you’d have a point. As it stands, that gesture of at least giving it a shot means a hell of a lot to me; it shows giving my feelings about it some consideration. It’s also not like I’m saying never see the guy again, either… it’s just while I’m out here and we’re dealing with the divorce.)

Yesterday was interesting. A lot of the anger and hurt about all this that I’ve been burying for the past two months finally boiled over. I flipped out, was screaming, crying, throwing things, and as much as I hate being angry like that, it was really cathartic to finally just get it out. I scared the dog and Mickey pretty well, though I didn’t do anything to them (I do NOT get angry at people. It’s a testament to Mickey knowing me that she was scared I was going to hurt myself or put something through a wall or a window, not that I was going to hurt her.) In either case, while draining, it felt good to get it out.

Later that evening, after Mickey went up to her friend’s house (we’re still not a point where we’re comfortable sleeping in the same house), I drew a bath and sat in it while music played off my computer a room over. When I was done, I closed my eyes and hit the drain stopper with my foot, and sat there as the water drained away around me, and let my worries wash away with them.

Progress is Cathartic.