Hours in a Day

There’s only so many hours in a day. This is often something I lament and other times I am grateful for it.

Some days are harder than others. I exercise every day. In an effort to keep things fresh and find things that work I’ve been trying everything. Low-key basketball, walks, hikes, swimming.

I’ve got an appointment to play golf this weekend. I’m 33 years old and I’ve never golfed in my life. I’ve never even WANTED to golf. Here I am trying new things. This cheers me up. To know I’m embracing opportunities and experimenting. I’ve come to enjoy swimming more and more. I’ve also gotten better at pushing myself during workouts without killing myself.

I moved out last week. When Carrie and I last talked she told me I’d have to move out. She gave me 30 days but also asked that I not be around in the meantime. Really what it meant was get out now and get the rest of your stuff later.

I don’t resent her for it. God knows what it would be like in the same house all the time. I’m staying with a friend for now. They gave me a futon for sleeping, a desk for my computer and a shelf for my belongings. I’ve never been so grateful and so happy to have such essentials. Everything I own of importance fit into my car and now it’s on that futon, that desk and those shelves.

It puts me in the mind of a Zen Monk. I’m stripped of my comfort, my zone, my home. My king sized bed a fond-memory as my feet press againstĀ the end of the futon bed I sleep on now. My massive television and surround sound is replaced by a phone next to my bed. I welcome this. I embrace it.

When you need to learn harsh lessons, it’s best not to be able to fall into old patterns. While I look up at the empty vaulted ceiling above my futon I feel like I’m getting the constant reminder I need.

Last night I pulled up photos of our wedding. I cried silently as I watched Carrie’s face frozen in joy from frame to frame. God it was only 2 years ago. I dedicate myself each night and remind myself to fight. Fight for this. I cannot fail.

The changes I make are difficult to decipher. I’m doing them for myself, I’m doing them even if she never comes back. But half my heart is gone. Half my soul is back there waiting. Everything I do, I do alone, but inside she’s always with me. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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