I got the chapter list from the editors today. We are Chapter Eight in this International Handbook of Gender and Feminist Geographies.
It feels weird.
But yeah. I’m proud. I worked really damn hard to achieve during both my undergrad and postgraduate degrees. And this chapter…
All with a completely shattered heart.
And today, a friend who lives overseas asked to see a picture of BG.
I obliged, sending her a photo of him, a winter shot of him on his beach.
Her reply was super cute. A fellow feminist, she made this comment about the youthful, good looking man who has waited for, then pursued me with humour and kindness,
And another friend – who met and liked Rog very much (he’s charming and very likeable, he really is) – reminded me of my journey, and who I am, chuffed for me with the book chapter. Through my intense, agonising pain. That pain comes from having loved very deeply, for a very, very long time.
These two, and several others here as well, have supported, empathised, emoted, stood strong beside me, lifting me up, keeping me from the rope, throughout this long post affair journey. And then shorter period of discard after my healing felt, if not complete (I don’t believe you ever heal completely from your love betraying you in the worst possible ways) definitely very manageable.
I was always sure that if I managed to actually survive the agony, the cancer, the literal broken heart, that once my (tear stained) wings dried out, I HAD TO fly.
Doing some practice flaps right here, right now.
Two years after he told me – showed me – that I wasn’t enough.