Painting Over the Past

The painter comes tomorrow. It feels like this change is about a lot more than paint color. It’s been six months since I ended things with Mack, give or take a handful of days. According to popular thinking, it was to take me half the time of the relationship to feel free of him. We were “together” a few days shy of a year. So here we are, at half-time.

At least in my case, the formula is accurate. It took a psychiatrist, a cocktail of antidepressants, a therapist, a personal trainer, an interior designer, a painter, and a scheduled trip to Tuscany. But I’m free of him. Mostly.

I go days at a time without him sliding into my thoughts. I’ve stopped mentioning him to my friends; for which I’m sure they are most grateful. I’ve stopped muttering a barage of profanity to myself, when I do think of him. I’ve started wearing the ring again. On my right hand. I asked two of my dear friends at sushi the other night, “Does it pass as a right-hand ring?” And they said, “It can be whatever you want it to be.” What I want it to be is a very special ring I bought for myself. Which is exactly what it is.

I’m so grateful it sits upon my right hand, rather than my left.

Yes, it’s definitely about more than just the paint. It’s about making my life, my environment, my world, just the way I want it to be. My old paint is a burnished red. And sandy beige. My new paint is a deep vibrant teal and a neutral called Coastal Fog. I’ve always been attracted to cool colors. I have no idea how I ended up with warm. But tomorrow, they’ll be gone. And my home will be vibrating on the same frequency as my soul.

And I’ll have painted over Mack.

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