famous last words

trying times abound in the little segment of the blogosphere my friends and i call home. my problems are nowhere near as serious as other people's, but there are problems here nonetheless. this semester's really starting to get intense. the last dregs of the old life just won't go away. i have the worst backache i have ever had in my entire life, one that takes one look at painkillers and says, really? that's all you've got for me? yeah, right. and i just had to back out of helping with a project at school on a subject about which i am thoroughly passionate. sigh.

but then, as i was walking (slowly) home from the train tonight, a song i hadn't really thought of in a long time popped up on the ol' ipod.

i see you lying next to me
with words i thought i'd never speak
awake and unafraid...
i am not afraid to keep on living
i am not afraid to walk this world alone...
 - "famous last words," my chemical romance

generally speaking, when i'm down and depressed, so is my ipod. but boy, did it come through for me tonight. a lot of my problem lately has been this gnawing sense of fear. i'm scared that i'll let people down professionally. i'm scared that i won't live up to the expectations of my grad program. i'm desperately afraid of my financial future. i'm afraid of somehow wrecking the best relationship of my life. anxiety and i have become really good friends lately.

but you know, i can't let this sort of thinking take me over. i got where i am by putting my head down and moving forward. i earned every bit of academic and professional success i've earned so far. the money thing will work itself out. i have no reason to doubt my man or his unflagging faith in me. i will not let the bastards get me down. i am not afraid to keep on living. i am not afraid to walk this world alone. i'm not alone, either. i may be solitary, but i also have amazing parents, a boyfriend who loves me, friends who form the best cheering section a girl could ask for, and all manner of support from all kinds of sources. i'm lucky as hell. i can't forget it.

i am NOT afraid. famous last words, indeed.

pictures of you

a fun side effect of moving is finding unexpected little surprises here and there, tucked into boxes behind old pairs of shoes and your stash of sweatshirts. i found a cache of old snapshots, a path through the halcyon days of college, before digital cameras made it infinitely easier to capture ignominy for the rest of the world to see. (and don't think i am not ETERNALLY grateful that i missed facebook in undergrad.) i spent a few happy minutes glancing through the stack, remembering some things fondly, with a pinch of bittersweet for how things have changed.

then i got to the last picture in the stack, and the shock of the sight took my breath away.

when i married at age 21, there were a couple hundred random snapshots in addition to the stiffly posed portraits. the photographer was far better at choosing action shots, casual vignettes of what was supposed to be our special day. dizzy with the good humor of the day, i convinced my least-social friend, who stood at the altar and watched me walk down the aisle to take my vows, to pass a slow dance with me. as we danced together, we talked, laughed, et cetera. the photographer crept up near us, without me even seeing it, and snapped a single photo of the moment. he was in mid-sentence, gesturing with one hand. i had a hand on his shoulder, smiling. we were looking each other in the eyes. honestly, to an outsider, you'd think he was the groom, so intimate was that moment.

so here we sit, so far from that day in so many ways. the man who put the ring on my finger doesn't live here. the wedding dress i wear hangs in the new closet, bearing witness to the past. and the friend from the picture? well, we laid in what was once my marital bed, skin against skin, and held each other close in the dark of the same night that brought me this slice of memory. we spoke in voices measured and fearful, pledging our love to one another and fearing the uncertainty of the changing dynamic between us. he mentioned that day, all those summers ago; watching me walk down the aisle and take another man's hand, he said, cut him in ways he couldn't articulate until that moment.

that photo, once a pleasant aside to the day that would build my life, is now only a stark reminder of what should have happened. but that's the funny thing about memories; you can use the example of what came before to rectify mistakes, to learn, and to grow. we learned from our errors, and in the darkness, in each other's arms, we forever changed the context. now, when i see the way we look at each other in that long-ago slow dance, i see a future, a possibility.

a memory reborn, reclaimed, all in the space of a picture.

clarity

i am often accused of being somewhat overconfident. not surprising; i am an egotistical only child. the world may not revolve around me, but by god, it should. this sense of sureness in the moment can sometimes lead me to make some insane choices. the phrase "it seemed like a good idea at the time" may very well be my epitaph.

there have been times in this slog through emotional purgatory that i've felt that the choice to break free and start anew was one of those good ideas at the time, that i'd eventually come to regret it and want nothing more to be back in that comfortable, sweet place i used to have. it is with great pleasure that i can announce that, for once in my life, i have 100% made the right decision.

i've had a lot of opportunity this week to throw in the towel, open my arms back up and say, let's forget all this and try one more time. that idea has, for lack of a better term, been forced down my throat. it's been all i could do to maintain my composure - and it's been a serious challenge - but there hasn't been a single moment when i've been tempted. in fact, this has been a forge, tempering my resolve into the strongest steel possible. i have never been more correct in my assessment of something than i have with this. i am on the right path. as soon as the mandatory clock runs, i will be a free bitch, baby. and it will be exactly correct. the way forward has never, ever been this clear.