Redux

I've started and stopped this blog many times.  Once for poetry or insights, another for knitting and dreams... today I start again and try to revive this blog. Not only to get the many thoughts out of my head but because my life has ended once more and now through the painful deliverance of truth and crippling acceptance that I can't be what I thought I was to a man I loved... well, what does one do with that?  She writes.  She packs up her cats, remembers how to do the little things that she let slide for almost ten years because some wonderful and flawed man, a man she trusted, would anticipate her needs and wants.  She tried to remember who she was in those brief moments of fire before daily stress and new responsibilities took over, before she lost her lighthearted sense of fun and gave in  to the imbalanced chemicals in her brain never realizing how far she had strayed from her former self.  A self that is no longer relevant in her fortieth year. Who is she? What are her new parameters?  What is she supposed to do with all this space and air and freedom she never asked for?  She cries, locking her arms around herself because she needs the walls to hold her up, because she's being born again and is scared and cold, afraid of what she might find.