It’s starting to roll off my lips easier now.
The father of my children
Cold, sheltered descriptives, indicative of the past, foreshadowing a new future. I still stumble and say husband occasionally, laugh inside as I remember how saying husband felt weird for the longest time. Then I wonder, is we’re still technically married, do I still call him husband? Or is the split, the one I felt and ignored for the longest time, is that what’s meaningful?
Cause I’m black and white in some ways, and with people I’m a fucking lightswitch. I’m on, or I’m off. And the switch, it’s taped down McGuyver style now, those married life feelings tucked away. Maybe, like the clothing I’ve held on to from high school, I’ll only look at them fondly once in awhile, but maybe, I’ll shake them out in a few years and try them out with someone else. But now, they are stored, like cargo, and my heart is freer for it.
I’ve had people tell me you are so different lately! So happy, so much prettier, that I even sound better. And I probably do because the weight of being in pain, of wondering why trying to love hurt, it’s gone. The weight of all these years, of wondering what in the fuck is so wrong with me, what I’m not doing or what I am doing-it’s fluttered off and I was glad to see it go. I feel joy, and happiness, just the sheer plain peace of not being sad, not being tense. I feel like I’m starting to be whole person again, instead of waiting for someone to meet me half way.
I’m going out. I’m talking to other men, other women, I’m laughing, really laughing, I’m singing again, I’m going out in public and not feeling anything-no anxiety, no worry, because there’s this exhilirating freedom in my chest now, and I want to squeeze it until it bleeds. Even just the simple act of going to the bookstore is ripe with possibility.
How I have missed possibility.