Laundry Basket

Let me take one more bite of only-the-most-perfect-grilled-cheese-ever and one last slurp of tomato bisque, and I'll begin. (Mmm, so nummy.)

There is the ongoing internal battle over finding the happy balance between being myself and being what other people want me to be. Oh, let's face it - what I am really struggling against is being what I think I need to be for others. Despite any progress made in this arena, I couldn't open up with my closest family. If I hadn't received a recent kick in the pants in this regard, who's to say if and when I would have taken the leap. But kick I did receive, and when forced to deal with the issues I'd tried to hide... well, I realized that I'd rather deal with the messy truth than have to continue my practiced song and dance. The rhythm was forced, and my throat hurt.

Last night I called Mum and Jeanette; I stopped pretending that I had the perfect marriage. And though I will not air that laundry here, it is an immense relief simply have it out in the open. Obviously, there is much to be said, but this is not the place.

And though I'm alone for Thanksgiving, I prefer it this way. Gives me time to be alone, to think. ... and to pack.