Changes

This past week has been another difficult one. I moved out of the apartment, first of all. A friend of a friend had a roommate back out on her, and I needed--very badly--to get out of the situation I was in. So on Thursday, I started taking the most important stuff for living and moved it over. Fortunately, the person who backed out had already paid for December, and my new roommate knows something about what my living situation was like. I was able to get away from where I was and not have to pay double for the month of December. And January is only half the month at the old place, so paying not-quite-double then will be easier to manage, what with a month to come up with the funds.

It's not as easy as it sounds.

I believe this was the right thing to do, yet still it hurts taking another step that asserts the painful reality of the situation. Maybe I'm in denial, and this is helping to force me to accept the world the way it is and not the way I wish it were. I've been doing too much of that, I think. Whatever. It still hurts.

Perhaps most notably, I lost control of myself at work for the first time, and started crying uncontrollably. I've worked the same job for more than eight years, and the routine is well established and easy for me to maintain. During this time I've suffered through three break-ups before this one, each more painful than the last, and yet I was able to push through and maintain professionalism while in the building. This situation has been so uniquely . . . . what's the word? I went from the happiest, most comfortable relationship I've ever been a part of to--well, this. Whatever the word is for that. My boss called me at 1:30 in the morning to make sure I was all right.

I cut my hair short, too. I let it grow for the last year and a half, and had *just* reached the point I could tie it all back; it was the longest it's ever been. But with so much coming at me I couldn't control, I needed something I could take charge of. Regretful of my mistakes, I needed to see a different face in the mirror. I needed a different habit to help reestablish the differences my life has experienced in the last couple of months. Moreover, with my glasses and earring, I got tired of hearing I look like Penn of Penn and Teller two or three times a day. Not that there's anything wrong with that, of course it could have been worse, but I just got tired of being told I look like somebody else. Now, I look like ME.

And I'm pretty damn cute, if I do say so myself.

I'm working my ass off, too. Lunch shifts at one job and dinners at another means that every day is a 12 hour workday, minimum. It's rough, but at least I'm making money, staying distracted, and I fall asleep easily and stay that way through the night. Besides, if I still go to Moscow, my schedule will be more busy than that for a guaranteed six days a week instead of four. I've cut sugar from my diet, and no longer eat until I'm full; I haven't noticed much difference in my body yet, but I feel better physically, and it's only been a week and a half since I started this.

I sure as Hell picked the wrong week to quit smoking, but I cut back a lot. Now, I only have a cigarette when I need to regain control of my emotions instead of whenever the hell I feel like it. At least I'm not physically self-destructing. I'm drinking more often, but never to excess. Overall, I'm trying to move forward, yet each step is difficult, for it takes me away from the way things were, the way they could have been if I hadn't been a fool.

Such is life.