A New Start

Over the course of the last 32 days, I've been engaged in increasing communication with someone from my past. We've talked about why it didn't work out, why it couldn't have worked out, and what has changed in our lives because of our shared past and how we parted ways. 

It was messy. I've grown from the experience, as have they. 

But we both agreed we didn't feel like it should have ended the way it did (or at all) but there was no way of sustaining it the way it was going. We also agree that the relationship ending when it did was exactly what we both needed at the time. I had to return to MI and log my 180 days in this county before re-filing for divorce. They needed to lose me in order to face their alcoholism and really dedicate themselves to getting some help, to begin their recovery. 

We've both been in therapy. We both attempted to see other people. We both have been pretty fucking miserable. 

Plain and simple, I miss him. I miss the little home and life we had built together. I miss Minnesota in a way I never thought I would. I came back to Michigan because I had to. Mostly for the right reasons, but also for some really wrong reasons that quickly backfired on me. I have felt like an outsider ever since I moved back in with my parents. I've been homesick this whole time, and I wasn't willing to admit it. My sleep has been off, my eating has been off, my exercise took a back seat... I've been completely depressed and unwilling to admit why. 

I want to go home. 

So I did something crazy. I went to Chicago this weekend to hang out. I went to Chicago and had an amazing time. I ate. I slept like the dead. I walked over 16,000 steps in one day. I went on a bus tour of the city's architecture. I walked in the gardens and parks. I walked the entire length of Navy Pier. I ate a Chicago hot dog on the street and got completely burned by the sun. I let myself be fully present in the experience, and I haven't laughed and smiled so much in a really long time. 

I felt alive. I felt (feel) like my life is starting over... but in the best possible way. 

Then I did something even crazier. As I was driving back to Detroit, I was passing by the college I attended. I haven't been back since I dropped out. I took the exit. I drove around campus. I was amazed at how different everything was, and yet, it was exactly the same. It was familiar, yet new. Then I took a deliberate turn and went down to the fraternity village. I have not been there since the rape. I pulled up in front of the house and called my college roommate, whom I am still good friends with. As we talked, I stared down the house. Then I made my peace and got back into my car. Its a different greek affiliation in the house now, but it still stands. I recognized the porch immediately. I thought about knocking on the door, but there were no cars out front. No one was home. But I stood outside of that house and took inventory of how I was feeling. 

I felt alive. I felt strong. I felt proud. 

And the biggest thing? I didn't feel afraid. I wasn't nervous or scared or ashamed. I was there. I'm still here. After everything... I'm still here. 

And I'm not going anywhere. 

Well, with one exception. Eventually... 

I'm going home.