The weekend is finally over. I’d have never believed I would have made it through. October was the longest month of my life and November started out just as slowly.

My friends are wonderful people. Not just because they are friends, but because they are the best chicks available on Earth. They are smart, determined, confident, womanly, hot… they are top notch women and I am just amazed to be considered their peer. Taking their advice, I told my husband everything. It was nowhere as difficult as I imagined, but not nearly as satisfying either. I still have this sense of half truth told. Sure, it’s true I don’t love him anymore, sure, it’s true that I don’t really feel like fighting for this right about now, still at the end of the talk, my thought went to the arena. That I have said not a single word about. I’ve made my charade, shown some limited concern barely respectable for someone who said “I do”, but I’m still very much not convinced that I’ll ever feel like doing something together and that there is going to be a chance for this marriage. I’ve been told to do so “to buy time” but I am the first one who doesn’t buy it. I just hate to lie, it’s so useless. And mostly, contrary to what my notable friends maintain, I don’t think that since I spilled everything, I am actually free to go out with whomever I choose. It doesn’t sound quite right. I just wish I were completely free to do whatever I want, but I can’t have that without throwing everything out of the window. Just maybe I shouldn’t do that yet. I have thought about this the whole damn weekend: every time I think I shouldn’t dump the whole relationship it’s because I chicken out. I think about logistics instead of feelings. I worry about lonely summers, boring New Year’s Eves, nights when I’ll have to go back home from the arena without anyone to tell my progresses to. Nothing of that is about my husband. It’s about not being alone, but the peg filling that void is just a variable. Take my husband out, put my coach in, done. That is the central reason why I decided to talk to him anyway.

Other than that I’ve had my concerns about this coach thing. Sybil just had it right at first glance: it’s not at all about him, who I don’t really know, it’s about what he represents: it’s the endless possibilities that the world out there is offering. He is every man I could ever go out with, every feeling, every discovery, every break-up. He is a projection. And I am dying to go out with him to see for myself if even the tiniest bit of expectation could match reality. And just because he is Possibility, his denial could be catastrophic. I am scared to death not because I would lose him, who again I don’t even know, but because it could taint all of my newborn confidence and curiosity of the world. I am so scared, I want to hold on to the remote chance that things may fall into place with my husband. It’s a fallback. And the worst thing about it is I’m afraid he has always been a bit of a fallback. When I was in love with him, I thought he was great but I also thought I didn’t want to get my hands dirty with all that dating mess. Now I don’t really know anymore, whether he was great and I was satisfied or if he was good enough not to try again. Sometimes I just feel like my strength comes from the fallback of my coach. If he weren’t there, if I had never met him, would I have been so sure things aren’t going as I wished? If I were the one to just jump and ask him out and he politely refused because of ethics would I run back to my husband’s arms?

God, Brandon, after all these years have I not learnt yet not to let the fear take the wheel and steer?
They say the first step toward defying the monster is giving it a name. I know fear, I see fear, I’ pointing right at it. Is it enough to steer clear of it?
I feel like exploring life by myself, because myself is the only person who feels like I do about the world. I talked to Faith again last night, and regardless what she says she does have a point. Maybe I need exactly someone who can actually understand this, someone who shares my view of the world and who doesn’t even need me to explain to feel the same way. Is it physically possible?

So we went to my mother’s hometown for a survey of the family’s properties. Nice Halloween. There were only two positive sides to the whole holiday, no let’s make it three: the good pictures I took of the properties, the very good training I got in a nearby arena, and my encounter with the ostriches.
I reckon I had never seen an ostrich up close before, maybe in a zoo years ago, but I had never really stopped to watch them. They are incredible animals. Their huge eyes gaze right through you, the way they bend their neck looks like they can move in a fourth dimension, their powerful feet have been stolen to a dinosaur. There they were, three of them, staring at me from behind the fence, proud, menacing, tall. I just wanted to make amends for using the ostrich as a metaphor for the contrary of an hummingbird. They are the contrary of an hummingbird allright, but just not as I intended. Let’s just say pigeon instead. I have a very clear image og the typical city pigeon and that’s gonna do.

Training is still the only thing that keeps me sane. The weekend has been a nightmare. I have been swinging back and forth from fear to boredom, from confidence to hope. When I left for the arena I was on the brink of tears, tormented by doubts and uncertainties. As soon as I touched the ground I washed out all the darkness with sweat. For two hours, no rest, no pause, nothing only me and the arena. There was no husband, no coach, no reality. There were my legs, my arms, my muscles and my feet. I’m back to being the 8-year-old who would jump up and down around town even in my Sunday dress.

Tonight I’m gonna be back to training, after a long and demanding week. For me, my head, my heart and the two of them. Renée thinks my point of view towards coach will change. She’s probably right but I’m curious to know how. It feels like it changes every week anyway. With every comment or compliment he makes, with my mood swings, with the weather probably. Fact is, I don’t want it to fade away. Not for him, hell knows it’d be so much easier to train without this preoccupation. I feel like going back to my husband would be a defeat. My rational self says it would be, but only if I gave up on my wishes. My negotiating self would retort that it would not be a defeat if I wanted to be back with him. My boarderline self answers that I shouldn’t be so sure that what I think I want is what I want indeed…