• Our Artwalk isn’t happening tonight. Well, it’s happening, but not at my store. The artist was in a car accident. I’m glad I won’t have to stay here until 9 tonight, but it’s too bad about his accident.
• My ex is “seeing someone” and I’m very happy for him. Really!
• I have to write press releases, and I don’t wanna. I don’t know  how and I just want a formula to use, but there isn’t one. Ack.
• There is a radio station that has played the theme song to Welcome Back Kotter two days in a row. There should be laws against that.
• I have four million things to do at work, but my brain doesn’t want to focus on any of them. I need brainless work today. Searching the internet and gathering crap that I’ll look at later kind of work. Not writing press releases and designing postcards work.
• I love my puppies, and I’m going to do some heavy-duty grieving when the time comes that I don’t get to see them every week.
• I had a very nice lunch with Ms Monkey today. I love my friends. This divorce has really made me realize who my true friends are, and I cherish them even more than I did before. There aren’t very many, but they make up for it in awesomeness.
• I must get revised button pics uploaded, so I can start Etsying them at some point. Too much to do!

I’ve never lived alone for more than a week. That’s a pretty sad fact for a so-called grown up, but it’s true. I’ve never had a place truly mine, and only mine. No parents, no roommates, no husbands or anyone of any kind. Just me. Just mine.

Gradually, things have been occurring to me. Little things about how it will be when I have a place of my own.

Things like a refrigerator filled with only the foods that I like. A spice cupboard that has taco seasoning and garlic powder and whole peppercorns and cumin, but no ancho chile powder or anise or carroway seeds.

Dishes and glasses and silverware that are purely a reflection of what I like, rather than a compromise with someone else’s tastes, or a projection of the perfect home, or hand-me-downs that I’ve never liked. Pots and pans that I actually use. Placemats that I love to look at. Furniture that’s comfortable and exactly what I want.

I know a lot of these things will depend on finances, having enough money to upgrade the things I’ll already have to things that I love, but that’ll come with time. I’ll be in complete control of money going in and out, and that’s a wonderful feeling.

Oh, and the colors. I can have colors. Any colors I want. Every color. Red, blue, green, yellow. Black and white. And it doesn’t matter if anyone else likes it or not. It just has to make me happy, make me like being at home.

I can have a knife set that looks like a person being stabbed.

I can have coat hooks that look like darts.

I can have a beaded “Cram It” curtain.

I can have a giant beanbag instead of a couch.

If you’ve lived on your own, set up your own home just to suit your own needs, or even set up a home as the dominant person in a relationship, making the decisions and having nearly everything arranged to your specifications, you can’t comprehend this feeling.

It’s like I never knew that the world could be this open, this full of possibilities. And that’s just in decorating an apartment. I can’t wait for other choices to open up to me as well.

Everyone knows that life changes in all kinds of ways when you get a divorce, but I’m still surprised by some of the things that come up.

I knew that I would lose most of the “joint friends,” or at least I thought I knew, but I guess some part of me thought they’d still want to have something to do with me. I admit I haven’t been very good at keeping up the communication, but it’s frustrating that it’s entirely up to me. I mean, I do have one or two things going on in my life right now.

I understand that I won’t be invited to larger events where certain soon-to-be-former-spouses will be in attendance, but a quick hello now and then would have been nice. I did get one or two such acknowledgements of my existence early on, but my responses apparently weren’t riveting enough, because there’s been nothing since.

I’m not complaining, and I don’t fault these people for it at all. I know it’s almost a necessity to take sides in situations like this, and I understand why they haven’t taken my side. I don’t expect it to be any other way. But it still hurts.

At least I do have a few people who have stuck by me, who’ve forced me to not close myself off from human contact, who’ve persisted in keeping in touch with me because they know I have a hard time doing it myself, what with all the shame and guilt I feel about my marriage ending. And the friendship of these few is even more special and appreciated because of the contrast with everyone I’ve lost. So if you’re one of the people who hasn’t given up on me, thank you. It means everything to me.

The other thing about this whole divorce saga that has surprised me is the kind of grief I’m feeling. I wasn’t happy for a long time, but it’s still hard to suddenly switch gears from sharing a life together (no matter how problematic that life is) to being acquaintances who can’t even hug each other anymore.

In divorce, you lose the person who always had your back, publicly at least. The two-become-one thing disintegrates, and you’re suddenly alone again. You lose the dream, the potential. The hope that everything will magically get better someday.

You grieve for the years lost, wasted even, and you wonder if any relationship can last. And, at the most ridiculous times, you remember little private jokes, secrets, the kinds of things best friends share, and you know they’re gone forever.

And even though things were bad a lot of the time, there were still good bits. There was laughter and closeness and most of all friendship.

Even though I know without doubt that I made the right decision, I didn’t expect to have so many regrets and feel such a sense of loss.

I’m hoping that, once the house sells and I can actually get started on my new life as an independent person, I won’t dwell on all this garbage as much. I can’t wait for that to happen.