I’ve been really dragging my feet on the remodel work in the house I’m living in now. I ended up there as the result of a breakup at the end of April. I am hard-pressed to admit that, at 49 years old, this is my very first legitimate case of a broken heart. Sure… others have hurt, others have done their damage, but this one? Wow. Truth be told, I have never before left a relationship while I was still in love, and I was in this instance. Very much so.

I am too obstinate to not recover from this, but I am wondering when that thing is going to kick in? You know, that thing that makes you say “fuck this,” and just … I don’t know… get on with it. I know I’ll feel better and will be much happier when my environment is put in order and is as pretty as I can make it. I know all of the good and positive reasons that I should be doing this, but I am hard pressed to take the steps involved in taking action. Honestly? I’m getting on my own goddamn nerves with it. I’m not even in a place, anymore, where I’m hoping for a reconciliation. That ship has sailed. If there’s happiness out there for me, it’s not going to be with this person.

Part of me is wondering if it’s the paint I picked out for my bedroom. I chose the exact same color scheme, as I had recently painted the bedroom where we lived together, and I absolutely love that color. I’m not tired of it yet, and I want to look at it every night before I go to sleep. Then I think, “it can’t be that.” See… I didn’t associate that bedroom with him or with our relationship. I associate that bedroom with me. It was the one place where I put my true essence. Why can’t I do that again here? I can, but I’m just not doing it. Besides, my new-to-me antique furniture is different enough to wipe out any ghosts.

I think I fear life in general now. I think that I feel too damn old to start over. I think it’s time to face and unpack the baggage so that it can finally be put away. Not just the baggage from this most recent upheaval, but a lifetime of accumulated baggage. Time to breathe. Time to get back to me. Time to fucking paint.