insomnia.

Dear Diary...That's how it used to go, right?  I wonder how many diary entries are a result of insomnia. A bit frightening, since we were all a bit loopy with exhaustion. That wide awake vibratey exhaustion that is so uncomfortable.  Heaven knows what our brains put down on paper without our permission or editing approval.

It is with interest that I note it has been more than a year since I last posted.  Posted here, anyway. I post in my brain all the time. I'm quite a brilliant writer there. Kind of like always knowing the perfect come-back 20 minutes after it's too late.

The house that I wrote longingly of in that previous post has had a long journey since then. From desperate attempts to complete renovations that my Ex refused to finish, through dismal and degrading sales offers, finally to bankruptcy and foreclosure. After it was clear it would not sell, at least not while I owned it, the realtor packed up his sign and I said one last sad good-bye. I haven't been back since, though it was tempting to swing by and visit. I knew that would not serve me, and so I resisted. I have thought of it often though. Wondered what my garden looked like. Abandoned after being so lovingly tended the year before. 

This recent Boxing Day at our annual extended family get-together, I found out that the house had been sold. This information shared with me and the room in general by a well meaning but clueless relative like it was a juicy piece of gossip that I couldn't wait to hear. The news took my breath away. I couldn't think.  My house?  I said.  Trying to comprehend. It was a blow to my heart that took my breath away. I struggled for composure...to process this diatribe that continued to go on without me, my informant sure they must have lowered the asking price of the house significantly in order for it to have sold. Another punch. How much had my dream life been worth in the end?

My visceral reaction surprised me. It was a house that was meant to be sold, after all. And I knew that it would happen eventually. But to hear it...well. At that time of year, it was more than I could absorb gracefully. I excused myself to the washroom, where I cried like my heart had just been broken all over again.

Then I freshened myself up, and went back to my family. I was greeted by warm hugs of reassurance by precious family members who understood the impact of what had just happened to me. Then I cried a little more. I always do when people are nice to me, damn it.  I was, and continue to be, so grateful for the love and understanding of my wonderful family and friends, who have been unendingly patient and supportive through this whole mess.

And so, we come back again to Gratitude, where I left off a year ago.  2016 was not an easy year by any measure. It would have been so much worse if not for the tool of Gratitude that I gave myself at the start of it. I have processed so many memories and moments.  There will always be more. Another memory, more tears, more smiles, more heartache, more hugs and love.  How lucky I am, and so very grateful for it all.

Maybe now I can sleep.