Revisionist History

Driving home I started thinking (yes, I think and drive...) about why there are times I conveniently forget details of certain incidents, situations, and relationships. Sometimes it's called 'repression', but other times, I don't believe it is as harsh as that.

Or maybe I am just rationalizing?

Here's the thing. A month before the Zen-like Heart Break of February, I was working on a piece called 'A Matter of Convenience (a 7-11 Boyfriend), which described how unsatisfying our relationship had become. It was a smart little piece which dared to compare convenience to true love. I wondered if part of the reason I was dating this man was because he had a great lake house and a wonderful dog. Okay, okay, okay...and he lived a block away. Let's be honest. All of those qualities are really appealing when you are a single mother of two young daughters. (Especially when the dog does cool tricks!)


Was it love? Was it convenience? Was it anything at all? In January these were the things I was wondering and writing.


But suddenly in February, all heartbroken and weepy; it became all about what I missed. What I lost. What was gone. What I wanted back. What I didn't want her to have. (yeah, there was a 'her')

So I revised history and gave myself permission to feel miserable.

I wonder why I did this?

Did I do it because I wanted to be miserable? I realized that sometimes misery does indeed love company and I am a damn fine host. Or did I do it because wanted to justify something? Maybe I did it because it made more sense? Who knows why I did it, but I did.

And voila, our history was revised.

But finally now (maybe it's the clean house?) I am beginning to have some clarity about what the relationship was truly about (I admit, it was a little bit of convenience, a little bit of love and a whole lot of Boston Terrier) and it doesn't hurt as much.

I read once that 'time does heal all wounds unless you pick at them...' and that made me laugh. Maybe it's merely time that helps you see things a little more clearly?

So. Here's what I do know. I do know that everything happens for a reason (damn, sometimes I hate that line, because it's used mostly by people hurting...I mean, we don't win the lottery and exclaim "Yippee, everything happens for a reason!") and this might be one of those times that I never know the reason.

But luckily? Life, as always moves forward.

Yeah, we miss the lake house, but we kept the dog. And the rest? History.