I have been practicing fierce independence.
"Fiercely independent." I remember my first female boss using that phrase when we were in her office and I was filing papers while discussing marriage with this unhappily married mother of an infant. "It's hard to be married, especially if you're fiercely independent."
I am happily married. Marriage does not equate with discarding freedom, it just means sharing the decision making process with an equal shareholder in the life of two.
Two for one. And two.
But this winter is "interview season," so the other partners of fourth year medical students and I spend a lot of time in intermittently long distance relationships.
Gone three days, four nights. Two days, three nights. Home three of the next 14 nights.
Somewhere. Check the chart.
I set up my art booth alone three times. (Three trips per show; Sentra with the seats down still doesn't have room for canvases and walls.)Found a buyer for some prints. Lost my purse. My cell phone. Found them. Slept on both sides of the bed, diagonally, the couch when I forgot to move. Rented movies with females stars and tears and laughter and real life, and no one said a single word while I fell into their world and let it be. I remembered the canvas bags and bought wine and cheese, yogurt, granola, mascara, juice, fruit, two gallons of water and carried it all back myself. "You know that'll be heavy?" the checker said. Yeah, I don't have far to go. The mascara wasn't in the bag. Still have to do something about that.
I have a plan for cleaning the house, but doing all the laundry takes all the day. Then there's work. They pay me, so the house remains the same. I need bigger things, like an SUV but I'll wait for the hybrid and the paying jobs, a studio but I'll wait for the news, a puppy but I'll wait...
The day the silent partner buys out our equal shareholder and we all decide how to do what's next.