About how lost I've been.
About how I've been wishing I could go back in time and be where I was, before the rug was pulled out from under me. About how much I miss what was and how I know there's no going back.
About how I don't always have faith or trust or hope that these friends are still a part of my life.
About how frustrated I am that they think I'm being difficult, unsupportive, challenging.
But also about how new people have come into my life, unexpectedly. About how I'm discovering new relationships that are satisfying, interesting. Different.
Today I rode to the George Washington Bridge and back with a new friend. 17 miles on a deliciously sunny day, our morning spent on a breezy path nestled between the West Side Highway and the Hudson River.
I was afraid to go - it was so far out of my comfort zone. I didn't know I could make it that far. I had hoped she'd forgotten we'd talked about it, that maybe she'd changed her mind, that something else would come up so I wouldn't have to put myself out there and try something new.
That didn't happen. We went. I made it. And am just as thrilled about the physical accomplishment as by spending time with someone I think is super cool and truly enjoy being with.
Doors are opening.