Ani in Chicago among friends

I don't even know where to begin...staying true to my style, here comes a total stream of consciousness in no certain order.

I signed divorce papers Thursday evening. It felt like a small insignificant thing. I had to keep reminding myself that I had an appt. that evening. I couldn't comprehend how that somehow it felt so minute when I had been waiting for so very long for that moment to happen.
So, I signed and it'll be all done in a couple of weeks after the judge signs off. I jumped in my car afterwards, called the X and told him I had signed, hung up, drove off and then I started bawling. Huh? Where did that even come from? I had five minutes of pent up emotion and confusion and anger that just seemed to be released. Ah, deep breaths...it's done. It's been a long twelve years and poof, it's all over. Bittersweet moment.
My attorney is such a great guy. He felt my energy and then asked me how I felt, saw the confusion in my face and said "But you're happy right?" And I said, "Yes, I am. I am very happy. Moving on."
So, I guess if there is one thing I could say in finality to the X I should probably just say it here: "It's been real. See ya around."

Friday was Ani in concert at the Chicago Theatre. Totally scored second row seating way down in the orchestra pit. We were literally 15 feet away from herself. It was a great show. Inspiring, uplifting, replenishing, releasing. The perfect encore to a tremedous roller coaster ride. The Chicago Theatre is gorgeous! Lars and I found our way to our SECOND ROW seats turned around to see the crowd behind us and I was like "Whoa... Lets take a moment here to take this all in." http://www.thechicagotheatre.com/about_history.htm - go see.

Two little girls
One hella ride
Plenty of broken hearts
Too much strength to say die
Understanding is the key
Open minds and open hearts
Thanks for being me
While I step back and take a sigh

After the show we took the redline. My very first time on the Subway! And I found it kinda crazy that in the matter of just a few hours, I had been driving my car through the fall countryside behind an amish buggy to riding the subway in the city. Kinda cool in an elemental sort of way.

We hoofed a few blocks and found our way to a "Punk" bar where our weekend host was hanging out. Luckily I'm not one to foster culture shock, I keep a pretty open mind and I don't really care if I blend so much or not. I found it all kind of interesting in an educational awareness sort of way. My first experience w/ what I would call "Rockabilly."Everyone's pretty well dressed in black. Sort of Goth like. (closet Goth here!) Everyone holding a Pabst Blue Ribbon, which threw me off a second.
PBR, like right on.
Late 70's my dad was drinkin the PBR. Wasn't aware that anyone in my generation was making that their drink of choice. But we learn something new everyday. I guess my Jack n coke was breed from the bottle my dad kept in the cupboard and fed us for coughs as children. So I can see where the PBR comes into play.
A mix of music from a modern day punk band I've never heard of to The Police.
Interesting.
Knuces and skulls hanging from the ceiling along with old school motorcycles and mudflap silloettes. I couldn't make up my mind whether I was in a biker bar or whether I would see Marilyn Manson stroll in any second.
It was an intresting blend.
But then again, there I was in my jeans and tee just coming from Ani with my bellydancer friend, having the soundtrack to Wedding Singer and coveting the latest Killers release, living in a small berg with my Tesla loving boyfriend.
I'm left to assume no labels.

Throughout the weekend I was involved in some conversations about suspension. Yanno, hooks in your skin, suspending yourself from the ceiling. I don't find it bizarre at all. I'm not like down with the practice, but I can understand why someone would be. As it was explained to me, in my mind I compared it to childbirth. Lots of pain that needs to be channeled for this great miraculous moment in time where it's just your being and your physical pain. I get it.

We strolled through the Lincoln park district. The apartments and condos reminded me of The Cosby Show.
Brownstones side by side behind tree lined streets.
Parallel parking is a must have skill.
Mediteranean crepes around the corner.
Mid East Hummos and grape leaves down the street.
Hookah shop on the next block next to the Italian shoe store.

One of my favorite moments was when we were sitting with friends on their apartment floor, dining on Greek food and just chit chatting... it came to my realization that I just might see myself differently than everyone else does. My friend Lars was talking about how when she first came to the Mid West from Hawaii, she was in search of some Hippie friends to hang out with. I looked at her and asked how on earth she found me because "I'm not a Hippie."
The room grew quiet and everyone looked away from me and up to the ceiling for a moment. I uncomfortably chuckled and then found out I am a Hippie sitting on the floor in this apartment in Lincoln Park district dipping pita into Hummos wearing my favorite linen shirt enjoying the smell of Nag Champra. Ohhhh...
Alrighty then. Hippie it is, if we must go with labels.

All good times, but I was homesick and ready to come home. About 45 minutes away from home and my SLJ, I freaked.
HUGE insecure moment. Absolutely scared shitless.
What if SLJ isn't happy to see me.
What if SLJ didn't miss me.
What if SLJ had a moment to himself and changed his mind while I was away.
I might be devastated.
Flashbacks of the X laying in the bed, twidling his thumbs telling me we need to talk.
Flashbacks of how he didn't touch me or look at me for two weeks upon my return.
Flashbacks of panic.
Painful, very painful flashbacks jumping up right there in my face.
I was downright scared to go home to SLJ.
I had a complete breakdown.
Panic, fear, anger, frustration, apprehension.
Trying to remind myself it's SLJ, it's not the X. SLJ loves me.
He really loves me.
And then I went into, well, if he doesn't love me and he has changed his mind, I can handle it. I've done it before. I survived. I can do this. Come what may.
And then anger struck. Damn the X for causing this trauma. Damn him. What right does he have.
And then Lars put it all into a different perspective - With SLJ, I have had moments of flashbacks when I expect him to react just like the X. But he never does. It's always different and then I have a confirmation and then I have healing. And there's no reason to think this "going home" will be different. She restored my faith which she's so very good at.

But I drove home (calling Andi on my way for comfort.) And my SLJ was waiting for me and my God, he loves me like no other. He loves me and no he didn't change his mind about me. And oh how much I love this man and our home and this little berg town in the Mid West and oh how I love the way he touches me and curls up next to me and we talk about how we both had to deal with our insecure feelings while I was away and how we both had to keep reminding ourselves that the other was not our X.
I let some tears fall as I realize this is very good.
This is strong.
We are very, very blessed.
I have a very amazing man.

Quite a weekend it was.
As I take a moment to myself and a smile on my face.
This is good.
This is okay.