The Light at the End of the Tunnel

I definitely spoke too soon on Wednesday. The Boy left for LA on Wednesday night and I was by myself for a couple of nights before I would join him first thing on the Friday. I went to my first tabata class on the Thursday night, which filled me with adrenalin but also the thought that things really had moved on since that was a definite no-no activity when I was pregnant.

I had been really looking forward to a trip away in LA, but I was feeling bogged down by the planned meet-ups that the Boy was planning. So much so that on Thursday night at about 1am...

I totally and utterly flipped out at him. To the point where I was crying so much I couldn't breathe. I hadn't realised how much I had been trying to tell myself I was alright. I hadn't realised how much I had to psyche myself up to see people and to prepare for if the topic came up. I guess I was also my own worst enemy, as I had decided that I would talk about it if it came up. So I've been avoiding people.

On the Friday morning, I dragged myself out of bed to catch the 6am flight westbound; towards sun and blue skies. I could not wait. The day was pretty good, as I mooched about Beverly Hills and saw how the other half live. I got my nails done at this spa that had probably 100 ladies working there. It was incredible. I got speaking to a local who told me that the street we were on was filled with plastic surgeons, so there was always paparazzi lurking around.

On Friday night, I again flipped out. I think it was either A) my hormones going berserk or B) I'd finally hit the total depression stage of the five stages of loss model. In any case, I hope that sealed it up because I just felt so wretched and hopeless, and just so sad.

Things have been good since then. We caught up with some distant relatives, who kindly drove us about 2.5 hours so that we could have dinner at their house. I got to ride a bike along the beach cycle path from Santa Monica down to Playa Vista. I love feeling the wind in my hair as I hurtle past, and just seeing beach and sea for miles and miles. And of course, the amazing warmth of the sun on my body. I felt amazing.

I wrapped the trip off at the Grauman's Chinese Theater, which I reluctantly went to to indulge the Boy. As with always with these things, it was great fun, particularly seeing how grubby Marilyn Monroe's hand prints are. So gross.

I think I got some closure this weekend, about which I'm utterly relieved. I'm sure I'll have a blip again, but at least it's no longer all-consuming.

Two tips: have the double-double cheeseburger from In-n-Out and eat sushi at Sugarfish. If you get the achieve this, repeat.