In the Eye of a Hurricane

There are days you want to press between the pages of your life and preserve like wild flowers. There are days that change your life forever, shape the person you will be from every other day forward. There are days you wish would never end. Then there are days you want to watch burn down in flames and then scatter the ashes to the four corners of the world.

Today for me was the emotional equivalent of being forced to spend five hours in a room with the ex you still have feelings for and their new partner. Listening to them wax lyrical about how incredibly happy they are in their new relationship and list all the awesome adventures they will have together. Watch as everyone congratulates them, calls them the perfect couple who restored everyone’s faith in love, and then pass round photos of their first trip together as a couple.

Sometimes you can get up, knock over a table, throw papers around the room and tell everyone to, ‘F*** off!‘ Sometimes you have to sit there, and smile, and take it.

Elizabeth Gaskell North and South

But when I got home (aside from the dramatic moment when I was almost blown into the harbour)ย I discovered that the spring sun falls straight through my bedroom window in the afternoon. I found a patch in the warm sun and lay there on my big stuffed-toy turtle pillow, reading Elizabeth Gaskell’s North and South. After an hour, I even dozed off for a while. Proof that reading can cure even the worst day. And reading followed by a nap in the sunshine is even better. Although the cover of this Wordsworth Classic edition looks more trashy romance than part of the canon. Actually if I didn’t have such a clear image of Richard Armitage as Mr Thornton in my head I might have given up on the book a long time ago. It will never make my favourites list.

But I knew today something had snapped. Something was over forever. Some days split your life in two and you can see the different paths in front of you. Some days even the most mild-mannered woman says, ‘Enough.’

Tonight there is quiet in the eye of the storm.

Tomorrow will be the time to lay plans, look to a new future, decide just how life will change. The writer in me wants to grab my pen and do something rash. The realist is holding her back. But tomorrow I will pour myself a large latte and grab a fresh notebook.

Tomorrow is another day.

 

 

 

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