Moving On Up?

I've officially survived two weeks in America. AMERICA. Two weeks without shawarma, two weeks without Diet Iced Aromas, two weeks without Daniel. After the initial (MISERABLE, HEART-WRENCHING, AGONIZING, CAN'T EVEN THINK OF THE RIGHT WORD TO ACCURATELY RELAY THE GLOOM) week of our break up, Daniel and I got back together. We decided we could work it out (I promised I was capable of giving him more space), and things went pretty much back to normal. I started to smile again, eat again, and even cook again.

Our post-break up relationship was tenuous as first, though it became stronger each day. By the time the dreaded last day was upon us, I was inconsolable. The thought of living without Daniel racked my whole being with an almost physical sense of sadness, fear, and desperation. We sat together in silence much of the last day--him smoking cigarettes, me eating microwaved cookies. And then we said goodbye. It was brutal, but I survived. Each hour away from him became slightly less painful, and before I knew it I was back in America.

Upon landing in the states, my strategy became distraction. My distraction was cooking. I took responsibility for every meal, every day, for everyone in my house. After cooking for months on a hot-plate, preparing meals in a fully equipped kitchen felt immensely pleasurable. And cathartic. In the past two weeks I've made linguine with clams, pumpkin chili, tofu stir fry, guacamole, brownies, bruschetta, and enough omelets to feed a small army of people who love omelets.

Daniel and I have spoken on Skype, and exchanged a few e-mails, but we both know there is no future for a relationship divided by at least one ocean. So, I'm trying to move on. I'm looking forward to seeing Evan again, and I'm looking forward to focusing on myself and my career. And on cooking, of course.

The point is that I'm getting by. I'm watching a lot of OnDemand and eating a lot of cheese, but I've decided to forgive myself for both of those things. Tomorrow I'm moving to New York and my real life starts. My gym-lunch-Downton Abbey-dinner-bed routine is now a thing of the past, but I guess it had to end sometime. Like Ben said on the season finale of the Bachelorette, "Good things don't end unless they end badly." Not sure if that's relevant, I just really love that show.