Surprises from the inside

But before him, there is me.

I met myself alone in my apartment.

I went to bed at night and felt something like peace. This filled me with guilt. I woke up and went to work. A cried at work a few times. In the car, on walks. Most of my crying had already happened though, between meals and hidden from my children. At some point I just didn’t have anymore to let out.

I don’t know when it happened, but the hard moments stopped centering on letting go, and shifted to filling up. A slate had been wiped clean and I had an opportunity to add layers to myself. Or reveal layers that had calcified.

One of the first surprises was the return of my early 20s diet - soups and sandwiches. Having been shrouded in shame and shoved into a closet a decade ago, I now dusted that desire off, slipped it on and twirled in front of the mirror. I made gourmet sandwiches and paired them with soups from around the world. Different breads, condiments, vegetables, meats and spices. Fresh things! Fermented things! I experimented with combinations, delighting in new successes. For the first time in a long time, I embraced a once-rejected part of myself with excitement. A simple, nourishing part of myself that didn’t have to feed anybody but me.

I became inexplicably obsessed with action movies. Spy plots, explosions, unchecked egos - gimme. Good ones, bad ones, as long as it had decent fight scenes I gave it 5 stars. Quippy banter? Even better. I indulged in the ludicrous worlds of Mission Impossible and John Wick. Jason Stratham and Chris Hemsworth lulled me to sleep. I dreamt of chiseled jaws and rippling biceps. I suckled on guns and knives and explosives like rotating soothers. The Gray Man was my safe place, Ryan Gosling my best friend. Turns out your Divorce Genre (DG) is a thing, and my other divorced friend shared that her DG was sports documentaries. Overcoming the impossible really spoke to her. Blowing shit up really resonated with me. Sitting on her couch we laughed and laughed at our makeshift Band-Aids to our gaping wounds and then I left to watch all the Terminators. My Watch it Again list reads like a diary entry - it’s deeply personal and full cringe.

One of the surprises that shocked me and the nation was becoming a cat person. After my beautiful dog Houla died, I knew I wanted to share my home with another being, but it felt like a betrayal to a dog. I had long been drawn to the odd hairless Sphynx cat, and fired up Kijiji. It was quick. I saw a picture of a dark shadow with big eyes and knew we were meant to be. Her name is Baba Yaga and she lives up to her namesake. Her energy is deep and ancient, a bit witchy. She came home with me and we just knew how to be together. We both suffer morning sneezes, and choke on our food when we eat too quickly. I clean her face and bathe her, and she yells at me when it’s time for bed. She rubs her face into my neck, begging for closeness. I get it. We are perfect for each other.

It’s a special things when you can still surprise yourself, especially after 40. It’s like muscle building and synapses forming - new pathways being formed that create new life. One falls in love with oneself. And if somebody else falls in love with you, that’s just the icing on the cake. Or - the pesto on the sandwich.

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