Here's the story...

I'm an adult...sort of. I married the man of my dreams on September 4th 2010, and things were going perfect. We had separate tubes of tooth-paste (the real secret to a happy marriage. I am a middle squeezer...her has one of those special tools that cleans the tube out bottom to top,) we lived in a comfortable home, I made meatloaf once and awhile...life was perfect. And then my gorgeous and brilliant husband had to get accepted in to one of the best MBA programs. Across the country. Since I am still finishing my degree in California, we eventually had to part ways. For a year. Now I am living in a studio, learning to do things on my own without him around...and trying to find the good wife/independent woman balance. It's not easy. NOW I KNOW WHAT PEOPLE ARE THINKING. I AM COMPLAINING ABOUT BEING APART FROM MY HUSBAND AND HE IS NOT DEPLOYED/RISKING HIS LIFE. In fact, he is safely ensconced in America's favorite land-locked state. But, I like complaining. And blogs are all about being self-centered and needy. So, I can safely assume that if you are reading this sludge, you are along with me for the selfish ride. Buckle up folks. I changed a light bulb for the first time yesterday...

The first day apart was difficult to say the least. Let me just paint a picture for you: I fell asleep at 6am with a wine glass in my hand watching a Jennifer Aniston movie from 1999. I had shamelessly tried to get some friends to stay the night with me- plying them with thai food and wine. But the inevitable had to happen. I had to get in to my twin bed with my teddy bear from my elementary school days and shut the fuck up and go to sleep. Even though it didn't happen, I still tried. It's amazing how reliant upon people we can get. Every night Brett rubs my back while I thrash and kick myself into peaceful slumber. Without him next to me, I sort of rubbed against my bed until I gave up and netflixed bad 90's movies. I literally NEED him to fall asleep. So, the next year should be fun.

It should also be said that 2 hours after my husband left the state of California I managed to break a door and start bleeding. These instances are actually not connected in any way. The glass sliding door I broke, the bleeding from my wrist happened while I was dilligently cleaning a counter. At this point I opened a beer and sat in the middle of my living-room/bedroom/dining-room and just...cried. Like, sobbed. When I sob you would think there was a camera around. I flail, I throw myself over objects, I shudder...sometimes I check the mirror to make sure the nose is not getting too red. I really commit to it. Anyway, I sobbed and shook and cursed life in general...and then the beer kicked in and I watched 4 episodes of "Glee" and then I was fine. Life is like that in a funny way. Sometimes we just need a little bit of a pacifier and then we can go back to being a functional adult.

So, how is this year going to go? Based on these past 24 hours, I would say I could be committed to a mental hospital by Saturday. However, there have been unexpected triumphs. Like when I changed my first lightbulb. Or cried in front of the Comcast man, but pulled it together enough to sign my name on the contract by the time he left. I also lit up the apartment like a Catholic church with candles and got to play my "Twilight" movie soundtrack on repeat without my husband around to threaten divorce. These are little moments of greatness that remind me that I am not as pathetic as I might think. Or I am just as pathetic as I think, but embracing it slowly. Either way I am on day one of a life changing opportunity that will hopefully make me a better wife to my very deserving husband. That, or I will just fall asleep every night with a merlot firmly grasped in my hand. Hopefully I can get it together. I owe it to me, Brett, and our fish Caper. (Who is seriously ready to punch me in the face right now with how much I am talking to him in baby voices.) No matter what, this is a journey I am ready to take. Blood, wine, and sweat included.

Hopefully you can come along with me. And maybe rub my back for me as I fall asleep. Because rubbing against the bed like a demented bear is just not cutting it for me.