A few of my readers have complained that I haven’t been writing. Well, a lot has happened. A lot that could be written about. Like me getting a job as a technical writer and totally loving it (been working for Axinom more than a month now), me working on my MA thesis and then postponing it, me performing on a stage as a burlesque dancer, me sweating loads in the gym and shedding 5% of my fat while also gaining 3% lean muscle mass. And, yes, the biggest issue of them all which is the true reason I haven’t been writing. Moving out. Talking about my marriage. Deciding to really break up.
I have no idea what is going to happen with all the goals I set when I started this blog. Publish a book – yes. Win a race – yes. A house – don’t know. Not alone. Living in the city, in an apartment seems to be fine right now. And living alone as well. I moved out on 31 October and November was pretty much of a rollercoaster ride when I didn’t even want to see other people because I felt ashamed. Who does that? Who moves out? Let’s say that I had been thinking about it for months already. The entire year has been crappy. Haven’t been really happy for a long time and finally I started admitting that everything was not fine at home. Already in August, I was checking rentals. And this was also the time when my runs started going bad, really bad. I couldn’t run properly, I failed many races. I’m not blaming anyone. A relationship is something that has at least two people in it. And this one didn’t work out. So, this is it. I am spending Christmas alone. There might be some sad moments but overall I am fairly independent. I know there’s someone who’s hurting more than me. Because I hurt him. But I couldn’t pretend any longer. I don’t believe in living without passion. Life’s too short for this. And probably I’m not the kind of person who should actually get married at all. I loved the idea a few years ago, I even loved being part of “secret” club. A club that wears golden rings. Symbols of being with someone.
Sounds odd but I was thinking that there’s a certain pattern to my long-term relationships. I meet a man, I make him really happy for a while, I improve his life, we have loads of great experiences together, I teach him something new, he teaches me something new. Then I get bored because it feels like there’s nothing more to gain. And I break that beautiful man. I destroy myself as well. Just to start recreating myself, start building myself up. Again and again.
There’s beauty in the breakdown?