Over a year ago, whenever anyone asked me what I was doing in Arizona, my answer was always, "I ran away..."
That's not how I answer that question now. Now I am working. I am writing. I have created a life. A new life. It doesn't feel like running away anymore. It feels like home. The past few weeks I have been traveling for my job, for pleasure and for personal business that can no longer be ignored. I had to go back to my hometown and take care of things I left unfinished. I've been running for sure, and now I have to go back. I've had a few moments of overwhelming sadness.
The moments of sadness are not as many anymore. They come and go. But, when they come, it slams me to the ground. I'm always surprised by it. So many people have asked me why I'm sad when I was the one who left. My kids especially don't understand the sadness. As I was driving through town, my hometown, I am swamped with memories of a life that seems like it belonged to someone else. I know every inch of that town. I have been there forever. I see the changes that it continues to make. I still drive through the town without thinking about where I am going. It is instinctual. I'm never lost, but I feel confused by the familiar.
The other day, I had my hair done at my old salon. I ran into people I haven't seen for 8 months...they seemed excited to see me, but I see the questions in their eyes they are afraid to ask. They look down at my hands to see if there is a wedding band there. They don't know what to say to me. I don't know what to say to them either, except, "I'm doing well". I speak to them as if they know my marriage ended, because while they may not know everything, they know enough. It's a small town.
The hardest part of going home is running into people. I've known so many of them for so long, they feel they deserve to know why. They are confused. They are grieving the loss of this marriage too. As I drove across the state yesterday, I thought of all the people I left behind without a word of explanation. The friends I thought were friends who turned out to be...not so much. I thought of the shock they might have felt when they heard, he and I no longer were...
I left no closure for them. I cut everyone off because I couldn't face them. I didn't know who to trust anymore. I was self-preserving. That's what I told myself. It was easier to run and pretend I was fine among strangers, than to cry and show my weakness to people I've known my whole life. And now I'm back.
I want to face the demons that still haunt me. I want to explain to people that didn't understand why. I know I don't owe anyone an explanation or justification for what happened in my life, but the need to be understood is strong. The need to defend myself and my actions hang on. I grew some thick skin, but it's uneven. Some spots are thinner and weaker. I learned who my true friends are when I left, but I also left behind those that thought I cared enough about them, to say goodbye and were hurt when I left town without a word and cut them off completely.
When you go through a divorce, you split your life in half. The things you took for granted are suddenly gone. The sadness I can't seem to explain is for the loss of a lifetime of memories that everyone remembers. It was a lifetime. My friends only knew "us". I alone, am someone they don't know anymore. Together, we were their friends. Separately, I am unfamiliar to them. Starting over in a new town is easy. I am known as Tam. I am known as myself. I am not part of a half that has always been whole. I am whole on my own.
When I went back East a few weeks ago, I realized how very homesick I was. Everything looked like home. The leaves in the oak trees, the tulips just starting to come up. The smell of cut grass. Everything was green, not brown like the desert. I ached for home. I was ready to be here. Now I am here. My heart hurts here. I feel sad here. I am afraid here. I walked into the empty house that used to be "our" home and I cry as I hear the voices of my children arguing, laughing and playing outside. I remember the holiday dinners I use to serve on the china I am boxing up. I stand on the porch and remember the summer mornings sharing coffee together before our days started. It hurts and I don't want to remember. The temptation to run again is strong. But I have things to finish. It's another hurdle I have to jump before I can move forward.
The instinct to keep running is always there. I take a break every now and then to catch my breath, but right now, I have to forge on, even though I am afraid. I refuse to be paralyzed even though my biggest fear is rejection. And so, I keep facing the demons. I sometimes wonder if it has been worth it? But with every person I run into, they smile, hug me and ask me no questions. They seem happy to see me again. My animal instincts keep me wary, but as a lover of people, I am happy to see them as well. Most of them. Has it been worth it? I think so. My life is different. It has changed a full 180 degrees. I am happier. It is foreign ground to run away to a new place. It feels familiar to go home. Scary now, but familiar. There is a country song with a line that says "Who says you can't go home?" I know that I can...I am here and I'm still alive. Now, whenever anyone asks me what I'm doing in Arizona, my answer is always....I am living!
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