Three months is a funny time frame. A quarter of a year, 90 days, a season.... Depending on your circumstances, it's either the blink of an eye or an ungodly long time to wait for something, endure something, try to change something. I've been moved out of my husband's home now for over three months. To me it feels like a new beginning, and it's gone by rather quickly. I would think my husband would have a different take on it. But, since this is my life and my story, he stays out of this one.
Lots has happened for me and to me. I've figured out how to make one trip to the grocery store a week and have all i need in two reusable shopping bags. Since I mostly walk, this is a good thing. If I need to make a bigger trip, I call my son and he takes me. It costs me a bag of groceries for him, but he chooses well so I don't mind. He buys fruit, veggies, salad ingredients, peanut butter, jelly, bread, milk and cereal. Every now and then he'll get a pizza. He doesn't ask for much, which is why I'm willing to do it for him.
Anyway, I've tripped on a sidewalk crack in broad daylight and cracked three ribs. I survived on my own.
Got myself to urgent care and everything. Woo I'm a big girl now. I have my own cell phone under my own name. I've made a business trip. I've paid my own bills, set up my own savings, set up my own safety deposit box even. I eat what I want when i want. I can have cereal for dinner. Hell, I can have it for all my meals and a snack.
I like finding out what I like. I like finding out who I am. I may not always enjoy the results of that knowledge, but it's all growth. Onward and upward, and hopefully not outward.
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