And there was dark, and there was light - another day

Things have evened out and my S.O. and I have mostly stopped bickering. It has been nice to finally be at peace with each other. Some friends of mine, who have been married for some years, keep telling me that everything is cyclical. And it's true. Day and night, high tide and low tide, and happiness and angst at home.

I started my new job some months ago and am continually amazed by the attitude of those in my new office. They seem to get along well and they make continual jokes and fun of each other. They also shake their heads at each other and, to some extent, it makes me think of a family: everyone is crazy but you put up with them as good naturedly as possible. Of course, I've only been here to months so my rose colored glasses are still on. It's just a question of making it to the next cycle.

No one knows this more than me...

One of my favorite Norah Jones songs begins:

Summer days are gone too soon
you shoot the moon
and miss completely...

I certainly can relate to that sentiment. It also reminds me of a quote my seventh grade English teacher was particularly fond of. I can't recall who said it or the precise wording but it was something to the effect of "Our feet may be stuck in the mud but we still can see the stars."

I am melancholy again today. I continue to struggle with how to deal with the process of becoming a married woman. I am extremely frightened to make the change from single person to married person. I think that such a fundamental change in identity is taken rather lightly by our society, the focus instead being on things like white dresses and table settings. I mean, really, how many articles are out the about The Dress? Who cares about The Dress when what's looming is a commitment so big that I have trouble grasping the concept?

Which reminds me of another quote (I guess I'm on a quote kick today):

All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.

And so I am going through the difficult process of turning myself inward to my home and my relationship, forsaking all others. It's funny, I always thought it was a bit extreme to include a term like that in a wedding ceremony; it sounds like an expectation that you turn your back on your family and loved ones. I've come to discover that's not entirely what's meant and that, to some degree, there is a level of forsaking all others even while you keep close those you love.

I have come to this realization in a close examination of my life. But doing that - forsaking all others - has proven to be emotionally difficult. Which means loss. And grief. And mourning.

I know it's right but that sure doesn't make it easy.