Mania

A few weeks ago I hit the year mark of the end of my marriage. I spent it with my boyfriend… an ironic laugh escapes as I think about it. Such a juvenile term for such a time in my life.

I have never been more, satisfied, confused, plagued, jubilant, free, consumed, empty, and all together… chagrined. Tongue-in-cheek, I think I am bi-polar.

Example: so the other day I was on my way past my parent’s house to the place I am sitting at until some friends get back from vacation, and I stop to get my mail.

I open the mail box and low and behold there is a very large white envelope. Oh yes, it is my third acceptance letter; this time to George Washington University, and the Elliot Walsh school of International Affairs. If it sounds intimidating and prestigious, that’s cause it is. Intense. Sweet, I don’t have to go to my back-up school. Like the five year old I secretly am, I squeal and throw myself into my car and hit the gas with the same vigor I always do… full throttle. So excited! I am calling EVERYONE. “Holy crap, I just got into…. I know, crazy! No I am not sure about the tuition yet. Woo hoo!! DC here I come!”

As I am flying over Kirker Pass (behind a car going the exact same speed might I add), I look up to see a cop with a radar gun pointed at me as if it is a sniper pointed at a terrorist with a WMD. SHIT. I am so in for this, and there is no way I getting out of it.

I throw the letter of acceptance onto the floor and pull over. Insurance and license in hand I roll down my window and say “Here, please be kind.” He laughs, walks back to his bike (should have figured) and writes me up a ticket without another word. Now I am pissed. This damn car, and the roof that is going to cost me $1300.00, the fact that is stalls in intersections, sucks gas like it is the V6 it definitely doesn’t act like, now is getting me a ticket. Ugh! What else could go wrong?! I hate this. Cops suck, money sucks, life sucks. Whatever! So annoyed.

My phone rings, I look down and it is the love of my life. Ooohh, a sigh escapes as a giant smile leaps onto my face. Mmm, I love him sooo much! “Hi baby, I miss you, I love you, where are you, when do I get to see you?” Twelve questions become one sentence as I spew epithets of love and ooey-gooey goodness. “I know I miss you too. How was your day? No… I miss you more! No… I love you more.” Somewhere in the back of my mind it registers that I never want anyone I know to hear this conversation, and I am sort of making myself sick. I can’t help it though, I love him that much!

We get off the phone, and a song that reminds me of him comes on. Oh, what am I going to do when I am in DC and I can’t see him everyday? What is it going to be like when I can’t feel him brush my face with the back of his hand, and melt into him just a little more? How am I going to handle phone conversations 3,000 miles away when I can’t see his beautiful face and run my fingers along his stubbly chin? A tear starts to fall as my bricks crumble and I feel just a touch of the loneliness I know I am going to feel.

I pull over to my friend Catherine’s house, and she hops in… “Oh gosh, it has been too long!! How are you, what have you been up to?! You look GREAT!!” Our conversation takes a turn that would rival any thirteen year olds junior high mania as we excitedly share and catch up on the last… twelve minutes.

Hm. Anyone get all that? The adult in me just cringed. I need a valium.