My late lack of posts notwithstanding, June has been a very “full” month. Or maybe it was so full, I had no time to put into words all that has been happening.

First came LARPing.
This may well seem a normal nerdy/geeky/dorky activity, but it entailed going back to my ex husband’s hometown, more precisely, to the exact same location where we got married. I entered the same garden, after some 400 days, all dressed up and made up again, holding a sword and a shield instead of a tulip bouquet. And there I rewrote history. What was supposed to be the quintessential remnant of failure became the symbol of new beginnings, of clean slates and second chances. It became proof that things can change, that stepping out of the loop is possible and that I am in power to manipulate my life to lead it wherever I want, even retracing steps I thought had collapsed.

Then came Vietnam.
Not Mexico, not Indonesia, Vietnam. The first proper journey after my honeymoon, my first time in Asia, my first time travelling for the simple sake of experience. And the Nth time I had to loath my mother because she HAD to say that she was scared about Maddie and I going alone, regardless of the terrorism she always triggers. Nonetheless, we are going.

Then came Marcel’s revelation.
Enough said in my previous post.

Then came the separation hearing.
I decided I didn’t want to think about it. Or rather, I just didn’t, as I know all too well that I can’t really control where my thoughts are headed. It was basically like getting married: it’s not the ceremony, it’s the decision to do it that changes the state of things. So yeah, it felt like a mountain on my shoulders to say “no” when the judge asked looking straight in my eyes whether a reconciliation was possible. But it didn’t change things, it didn’t feel as if it was wrong, or too soon, or uncertain.
Later that night I had dinner with my ex husband and we talked a lot, probably more freely than I’d ever done before. Because I have analysed the whole situation more, because I feel more detached now, because it is plain to see that it was the right and the only choice. The fact that he is desperately trying to get a new job at the other end of the planet does scare me, because even if he denies it, it speaks volumes of what he wants from me right now. And while it’s true that not much would change in terms of practical arrangements, it makes me wonder whether a do-not-resuscitate approach would be smarter and more proper.

Then came New York.
The reign of tanned, tattooed, trained, totally awesome biceps… and ugly faces.
Every one asks me if I liked the city and I don’t really know what to answer, because really, it wasn’t that much about the city. It was about facing an intercontinental flight alone for the first time after 13 years, it was about strengthening a friendship, it was about doing something good for myself as travelling can be. And I did like the city. When my flight approached JFK I had a glimpse of the skyline and all I could think about was “why the hell haven’t I thought of this sooner?”. But it wasn’t just for the Empire State and the Chrysler, it was about wondering why I had stopped travelling altogether, because this is something I have so rarely done with my ex husband. The excitement that a new travel brings is unparalleled and I needed this sweet escape the day after my separation hearing. And yes, I couldn’t help looking at men while I was there. It must have been the whole Sex-and-the-City effect, I thought men in NYC would be great. I was wrong. Don’t get offended, I am sure there are plenty of wonderful males out there and I just lacked serendipity but I was just a little disappointed, I expected… you know… the American dream. Sorry guys, Europeans do it much better.
But oh man, the sushi was great!

Then came my new therapist.
In retrospect, June was a “good” month: I was relatively calm and positive, probably due to all the innovations and the decisions taken. But May wasn’t and in one of the deep pits where I fell, I realised it could be a good idea to join group therapy sessions. So I asked my current therapists for a reference and ended up at my first appointment. It is all part of that master plan where I physically need to engage in attempts to help myself get out of this hard place where I have found myself in for the past few months. It was uncommon and foreign, but somehow illuminating.
He acts like the typical psychiatrist: he spits out comments and conclusions about your life which you cannot contradict, regardless of their accuracy; because he’s the doctor and if you don’t agree it’s just because you’re not accepting the reality of things. After three years of therapy and being the introspective person I am, one who’s no longer afraid of even the darkest and scariest truths of the human mind, I don’t really appreciate that, but I suppose it won’t be such a burden in a group environment. Plus, thank Sa, his conclusions were mostly correct in the first place.
The interesting thing was finding myself wrapping up the effects of a three-year-long journey through my mind and soul and discovering just how many things have indeed changed. How many things I managed to change. Perspective gave me hope. Once again I could see that I am the kind to get what she wants, I usually do, and this is no different. I wanted to get better, to change, and I have. My troubles right now are very different from what they used to be. Surviving is not a problem anymore, the task at hand is rounding the edges, getting closer to perfection, getting reality closer to dreams and desires. The way I can see my issues now… I am so much more perceptive. Every day I get closer to new answers and new revelations. And it surprised me to no end that what I have been trying to do for myself in the past six months was indeed correct. I have been praised for the idea itself of seeking a group therapy, since relating to peers is exactly what I need to get out of my cage. In order to step forward I need to step back, reconnect to the very place where my past took a wrong turn, where I became anxious to be a grown up and skipped the rest. That rest, where you take relationships with the opposite sex lightly, where you make mistakes to learn from them, where play is more important than being serious, where my peers help me choose my beaten track, not people from other generations.

So at 32 I LARP, so I get a tattoo, so I try to meet and know and talk to as many people as I can, so I try to seduce strangers and fuck as many different men as I can, so I skate to give my little-girl-self the satisfaction to wear a costume and try to win a competition.
So I regress. Because I need to step forward.