The other day, someone I hadn’t seen in a while asked me the simplest, most ordinary question on the planet. “How are you?” my long lost acquaintance said. “I’m doing great,” I replied. And just like that – it dawned on me. I am doing great. Like – really, exceptionally great. Flashback to just a few months ago and those three little words of “I’m doing great” seemed like a complete and total impossibility. I guess I could say it seems like yesterday I was staying in bed until 5 pm, not eating, not showering and crying for hours on end. But it doesn’t. In fact, it seems like quite a long time ago.
Don’t get me wrong – not every day is peachy keen. Sometimes it’s rotten tomatoes. And since I am momentarily utilizing fruits and vegetables to analogize life, I may as well keep going, eh? I have deciphered that true heartbreak – the kind that comes from a love that shakes you to the core and fundamentally changes who you are – is like an onion. There are an infinite amount of layers. Some are noticeably thick, but peel away quite easily. Others are centimeters, even millimeters in depth – so thin it’s hard to notice they exist at all. (These are usually the toughest layers to get through.) But as the days, weeks, months go by, these layers no doubt shed and I find myself unraveling parts of my pain, the relationship and myself that have been silent. Some layers remind me that the ending of this relationship was a good thing. Some layers make me question and regret. Some layers overwhelm me with nostalgia, while others make me feel absolutely nothing. But the point is: the layers shed. And the closer and closer I get to the center of this particular onion, the closer and closer I feel to myself again.
I am discovering that this is the process. It’s not just the sad and lonely moments or the too much wine or the mani-pedis or the talking to your girlfriends for hours. (You know who you are, and this is my official thank you. I owe you all for eternity.) It is also the mundane, monotonous activities of everyday life. It’s running errands alone on a Sunday and coming home to cook dinner just for one. It’s the non-stop craziness of meetings, appointments, dinners and events. It’s going to bed by myself. The difference now is – I actually enjoy doing these things.
There’s another key quotient to this process: fun. As in, I’ve been having a lot of it. Summertime is about to embark on Chicago, I’ve just moved into a fab new apartment, I’ve met some amazing, inspiring new people, gone on a few even more amazing dates and I’m taking advantage of all of it. Dare I say it and not get jinxed? …I think I am actually loving my life. Genuine healing requires genuine happiness. This took me six months to realize.
So perhaps the moral of this tale could be that the next time you ask someone how they are, there’s a chance they may write a blog about it. But I’d like to think that the moral of the story is that while evolving can be melancholy, it can also be freaking marvelous. Even if onions sometimes do make you cry.
comments (1 response so far)
Monica from Lakeview
August 28th, 2009 3:20pm
Jessica - I absolutely adore your blog so far!:) I am wondering and hoping you can add some more entries soon! Your words are inspiring, as well as extremely thought-provoking which did get me a little melancholy (ie resilience blog). I had the pleasure of being a part of the Cheeky party at Sub51 last night, it was a great event. I look forward to attending more.
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