The Little Stuff is the Hardest

I've got a list of dozens of things I'll be taking that MS and I have agreed upon.

I made it through the splitting of books and movies without a hitch.

But two weeks ago when I went to fill out the papers to apply for the apartment (even that was fine), I spent the afternoon tooling around my new neighborhood. I felt like a zombie, not sure how to process it. I wandered into Target and bought some needed socks (did you know they make short dark socks?). I purchased a game I didn't need from GameStop just because. I was numb.

And then I wandered around the grocery store just up the road. "This is my Kroger. There are many like it, but this one is mine." I didn't even know why I was there. "Well, I'll have to learn a new layout. Okay, I'll see what their beer selection is like." And as I walked to the checkout with a previously-undiscovered IPA, it hit me: we share a Kroger card; I need a new one.

And my stomach turned inside out as I asked Customer Service for the new cards and form. The woman handed them over like an afterthought and I felt so, so alone. "I'm getting divorced!" I wanted to scream. "I'm ending a relationship that's taken almost thirteen years of my life!"

But the shitty music continued, no one paused to consider me. So I self-checked out and walked back to my car.

It's the little things that burn most, maybe because they're little, maybe because they're too small to be in the big picture plan and when they crop up you're not only so harshly reminded how integrated your lives have been, but disappointed that you didn't see it in the first place.

But the good news is that, right after my almost-meltdown, I walked back to my car, and I felt a little more relieved, a little more complete, a little more in control of the chaos that currently surrounds me.

I guess that's how most of the little things will go: the harsh bit of realization, the adjustment, and the resulting comprehension of success and control. Even if it's little, it's one more step in the right direction. Even if it hurts. Or perhaps, especially if it hurts.