I wrote a week or so ago about entering into the acceptance stage. I might have been wrong about that. Over the past few weeks...the 'no internet' weeks...I have been overcome with bouts of anger...yes acceptance...but more anger...and the arrival of said bane has forced me to realize the level of my denial while simultaneously perpetuating more anger.
I miss London. I miss the people. I miss the sky. I miss the walks. I miss the rides on the Tube.I miss the feeling of moving forward. The absence of this weird fear of a stymied existence. The feeling of power I got from figuring out the city...in a sense. I denied myself those feelings for a long time. Accepting them makes me angry. Accepting my being sent home makes me angry. What is there for me in London now? Nothing. There is no reason to go back...and I'm angry about that. Every Memphian fears that nothing will come along to help us break out. I love Memphis...but the big world is out there...begging me to join it...and without a reason...it seems a bit of a stretch to go dashing off my front porch for longer than a month. I miss London. I wanted to be there longer. I really really did.
Also...with the arrival of this person...I get to hear complaints of how much better London is than crappy, hot, have to drive everywhere Memphis. Which makes me angry...because I didn't ask to come back here. I was sent here.
Then I have these moments of believing for a split second that he's missed me desperately. That he regrets his decision every day...that he's miserable. But he isn't. He's fine. Peachy. Of course.
My internet is back up. Let's get down with the emotional updates.