A Righteous Revival

It’s fascinating how one day someone who was once the very center of your life is no longer the center, the back or front, not even the very far side. This person is simply no longer a part of your life – This person whom for years was considered in almost every single life decision you made right down to the minute dinner plans on a Friday night after work to the living arrangements thousands of miles away on the other side of the country.

It has come to my attention that I rarely speak of David, let alone think of him. This does not mean I don’t have any more stories to show and tell but in case any of my dear readers were curious, I thought I’d use this blog to address the lack of tales of life with David.

My therapist is frequently encouraging me to express pride in my accomplishments and I can say that I am extremely proud of the woman I have become for having made it through the three years I spent with David and the three years thereafter. I would not be the person who I am today had I not met him and married him. The past three years since our split have opened so many doors, professionally and personally, that I can no longer confidently utter regret for the short life I spent loving him.

I have come so far in self-awareness and personal growth that I simply don’t think about that past life very often. And when I do, the thoughts have thankfully taken their proper place among my life experiences and my perspective is no longer one of cynicism and bitterness but realism and subjective development. I suppose one could call it a righteous revival.



Is That a Wrap?

People come and go from our lives to create what feels, at best, like a handful or two of completely separate lives lived – almost reincarnation like. Oftentimes, people come and go because people grow apart, they choose different paths that lead their lives further and further away from what once was. There’s a mutual understanding of why you are no longer characters in one another’s next act, or reincarnation, if you will.

And sometimes, people simply begin living their life apart from yours so that one day, you wake up and you don’t even think about that person for twenty-four hours and then the next day, forty-eight hours and the next, seventy-two and so forth. Until one day, when you’re looking back and unpacking some baggage, per se, you realize, there is no mutual understanding, no explanation, no sense and perhaps, most difficult of all, no closure.

So, how do we say, “That’s a wrap” and put the final cut on what feels like a past life? How do we insert a resolution after an incomplete falling action? Can these feats even be accomplished given that the desire to reach a denouement has the possibility of being mutually exclusive? Is a rewrite attainable when only half of the parties involved may have such desire? Or do these unfinished acts simply go to the vault never to be reopened?