My desk is cleaned off.
All the dirty dishes are in the dishwasher.
I cleaned my microwave and wiped down counters in my kitchen.
My dryer is running.
I have an exam in world lit in the morning.
I guess I figured it out. It's not that the apartment is empty, it's not that I sleep alone. I was always kind of amazed on how much I liked living alone. But to tell the truth, as of late, there has really not been anyone living here.
The apartment is huge. 1100 square feet and it's just me. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, fair sized kitchen and a very nice living room, but most of the time I've lived here, I've spent the majority of it in the "guest bedroom" or what's known as my little sanctum or home office. For almost 5 years, I've sat at this desk viewing the world through CNN.com or There.com or World of Warcraft or the million places you can go via the internet. Since my office was the only room I could have a cigarette in, the office became my retreat where I could relax and be myself. But really was it all that healthy for me to stay almost locked up in this little room, smoking cigarettes and playing games? Not really. I am coming to the realization that it cut me off from life, that it acted as some sort of 'rubber room' so that I didn't get in my ex's way. That it helped me cut myself off from a life, that if examined close enough, would show itself to be a mundane existence, far from what the fates had intended for me. I realized all that just today.
For the last couple of weeks, I've been spending more time in my living room. My little home office seems restrictive and oppressing, so I've been spending time watching the big 40" plasma screen TV my parents bought me for Christmas. I've got candles galore, I moved everything away from the front of my fireplace and I've had it going almost every night, along with the candles, making it such a homey environment that it seems almost a crime to turn off the fireplace, blow out the candles and go into my office.
When the ex left, I made it my mission to remove him from my bedroom. I purchased all new linens for the bed, hung a painting that was purposefully the opposite of what he had hanging on the wall before. Over the last year, I've cleaned out under the sink in my bathroom, cleaned out closets, moved furniture all to get rid of the remnants of the ex. All of his garbage like empty soap boxes, his shaving gear, all the little things I can only guess he had already replaced and had with him over at that thing's apartment he was spending more time at than here. I still have two more places to work on, the underneath of the sink in the guest bathroom and his drawer in the master bath.
Sometimes, I think I'm a coward or lazy for not going in there as soon as possible and getting rid of everything. Cleaning it all out and making more room for me. I think I'm afraid of it because it will reinforce the fact that he's gone and that I've been abandoned. I guess I'm terrified because I'm afraid it will hurt and remind me that I never really lived here in the first place, it was just a place he could stash me and keep me quiet. But, that's the kicker. I've never really LIVED here. I've slept here, cooked here, done my laundry here, yes. I inhabit here. But I finally figured out that I've never really lived here and the one thing that was missing from this place was me. I've been a ghost in my own life, never really living, just existing far beyond the real world, tucked away, not really understanding that it's ME that makes things special, that it's my essence that would make things better. That I had to try to see the world beyond the 11 x 11 room that is my office. That there is a world out there and it really doesn't matter if I'm alone or not, I have to live, I need to breathe in a world and an environment that I need to create for myself. It doesn't depend on anything else. My wildest dreams could come true with my pal KP walking in the door right now, but it wouldn't matter because it wouldn't be MY world he would enter, it would be a vapid existence, no more than that. It wouldn't have my essence imbued into it.
So I guess you could say that I finally figured out what my life needs and it's not a 5'8 Hawaiian, it's not company, it's not anything that money could buy or a person, it needs ME. It needs me to get off of my rump and live. Not just exist, but LIVE. To vicariously live through others isn't life. It's the deep seated need to make sure that I'm living my life on my terms that will make the difference.
I know all of my A's in school should have told me that. That all of the things I've accomplished in the last year should have, but really, it takes a moment of epiphany to realize that there is more to life than just waking up, taking a pill and sitting behind a computer. It's all very tough habits to break. Looks like me cleaning my kitchen three days in a row and finally hitting my goal of putting my dirty dish in the dishwasher after I was done with it to make me see it all. Yes, that might be normal to you, but in my world where an enabler took care of everything for so long, that's pretty major.
Oh well. I went to the grocery store last week and got myself enough groceries for the month. I think I may just make myself a roast tomorrow night.
But I've got to go. It's late and I've got an 8:30am class in the morning.
It's like Mame said, "Live, Live, Live, life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death." Looks like I need to step up to the table, huh?