A good friend gave me some sound and wise advice for this New Chapter of Life. He said to "give each emotion the time its due, and then when you are ready, and you will know it, you will get your feet moving forward."
My best girlfriends have told me that this hermit lifestyle is okay to live right now - eat what I want, go where I want, stay in my pajamas for 24 hours straight if I want. And though they haven't said it, I know they recommend that I, at a minimum, take a shower and shave my legs semi-regularly just on the off chance that Mr. Darcy or Mr. Knightley or even that blackguard, Rhett Butler, unexpectedly make their appearance at my doorstep.
While any of these dudes would do for a nice cup of tea and discussion about literature, or in Rhett's case, some brandy and flattery, what I realized yesterday is that at the moment, I am a woman in need of a man with power tools.
I find this realization terrifying. Disconcerting. Infuriating. So much so that when I sat in front my newly purchased dog door, reading the instructions for installation, and observing that I do not have the means necessary to install the damn thing, I was reduced to Jane Austen-esque fits of tears, pouting, and a temper tantrum the likes of which Scarlett O'Hara would be ashamed of. This was all followed immediately by a loss of motivation, replaced by pajamas, and I found myself firmly planted underneath my covers for most of Saturday...forgetting that I had made plans for myself to be Productive and Active and to Go Out and Thank Mother Nature for the beautiful mountains and equally beautiful desert where I feel so welcome and at home.
I took two steps backward. Possibly ten.
But I have given these emotions the time they are due. I have faced the fact that while sometimes I want to be rescued by a handsome, charming, and dashing man who happens to also be a handyman, reality is much more complicated than I anticipated. I have chosen a path for Life that requires me to rescue me.
So I got out of bed.
And I went to Home Depot. I bought what I needed. With the money I make at my job.
I took a few steps forward.
And then I was motivated to take a few more steps forward. To put on my running shoes and make my heart beat harder than it has been lately. To Go Out and Thank Mother Nature.
And now while I wait for my brand-new-not-fancy-but-will-do-the-trick drill to charge up so I can cut holes in my door, hang up curtain rods, shelving units, and all of my pictures, I can't help but wonder what the Mr. Darcys, Mr. Knightleys, and Rhett Butlers of the world would think of a woman like me...the kind of girl who exposes her ankles in public (shocking!) and now owns her very own power tools.
Frankly, my dears...I don't really give a damn.
I don't really need the flattery or the tea anyway.
And I think that counts as a few more steps forward.