So, the journey has begun. It was mostly without adventure except for a wrong turn in Montreal (why oh why does Champlain Bridge going to the south shore have to be so difficult to navigate?)
But, I found my way. Eventually. Which goes to show -- I eventually find my way but sometimes it takes some going round and round before I do.
I'm staying at a pretty average Days Inn next to a busy Autoroute 20 in a barely-a-town called Ste. Helene de Bagot. I am suffering from some overstim and glad I brought food with me because there's no place to eat out here. And besides, I'm too tired to go anywhere.
This is the first major trip that I've done since the pandemic has been over (well, sort of over, anyway). And the first major road trip I've done on my own since Ed and I split up. It's been coming up on 18 months but, there is always some unpacking to do. My suitcase sometimes gets messy, as you can see from the picture above. I love visual metaphors.
I've also been thinking about the first time I took off in my car for Nova Scotia. Barry, my first husband and I had split up the previous December but still living in the same neighbourhood. I left him to take care of the house and figuring out how we were going to disentangle ourselves. It was a different situation from now. I was no less heartbroken but we had seen the end of our marriage coming and unable to do anything about it. I was sad .. very very sad, but not angry in the same way. It's getting better but it will take some time yet ....
That's because of the different way it happened. With Barry, I felt like it was my decision too. Even though he was the one who ended it, I set him up for it. It felt like a mutual decision though I still really wished he would give it another try. But he gave it many tries. And that made me feel like he believed it was something worth saving, even if in the end, it wasn't able to be saved.
With Ed it was different. I had no choice in the matter. I wasn't involved in the decision to end our marriage. He just did it and left me to pick up the emotional fragments of my life. Cut and run.
I think of both of them in these long hours on the road. Wishing that things could have been different.Wishing that I still had a travelling partner to help me navigate when I get lost. When I get overstimmed, to remind me that I'm just tired. To have one of them there to let me know that they're glad they're sharing the journey with me.
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