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I
’
ll
explain
in
sequence
.
To
begin
with
,
things
started
to
look
up
somewhat
when
I
moved
out
of
David
’
s
place
in
early
2002
and
found
an
apartment
of
my
own
for
the
first
time
in
my
life
.
I
couldn
’
t
afford
it
,
since
I
was
still
paying
for
that
big
house
in
the
suburbs
which
nobody
was
living
in
anymore
and
which
my
husband
was
forbidding
me
to
sell
,
and
I
was
still
trying
to
stay
on
top
of
all
my
legal
and
counseling
fees
…
but
it
was
vital
to
my
survival
to
have
a
One
Bedroom
of
my
own
.
I
saw
the
apartment
almost
as
a
sanatorium
,
a
hospice
clinic
for
my
own
recovery
.
I
painted
the
walls
in
the
warmest
colors
I
could
find
and
bought
myself
flowers
every
week
,
as
if
I
were
visiting
myself
in
the
hospital
.
My
sister
gave
me
a
hot
water
bottle
as
a
housewarming
gift
(
so
I
wouldn
’
t
have
to
be
all
alone
in
a
cold
bed
)
and
I
slept
with
the
thing
laid
against
my
heart
every
night
,
as
though
nursing
a
sports
injury
.
David
and
I
had
broken
up
for
good
.
Or
maybe
we
hadn
’
t
.
It
’
s
hard
to
remember
now
how
many
times
we
broke
up
and
joined
up
over
those
months
.
But
there
emerged
a
pattern
:
I
would
separate
from
David
,
get
my
strength
and
confidence
back
,
and
then
(
attracted
as
always
by
my
strength
and
confidence
)
his
passion
for
me
would
rekindle
.
Respectfully
,
soberly
and
intelligently
,
we
would
discuss
"
trying
again
,
"
always
with
some
sane
new
plan
for
minimizing
our
apparent
incompatibilities
.
We
were
so
committed
to
solving
this
thing
.
Because
how
could
two
people
who
were
so
in
love
not
end
up
happily
ever
after
?
It
had
to
work
.
Didn
’
t
it
?
Reunited
with
fresh
hopes
,
we
’
d
share
a
few
deliriously
happy
days
together
.
Or
sometimes
even
weeks
.
But
eventually
David
would
retreat
from
me
once
more
and
I
would
cling
to
him
(
or
I
would
cling
to
him
and
he
would
retreat
-
we
never
could
figure
out
how
it
got
triggered
)
and
I
’
d
end
up
destroyed
all
over
again
.
And
he
’
d
end
up
gone
.
David
was
catnip
and
kryptonite
to
me
.
But
during
those
periods
when
we
were
separated
,
as
hard
as
it
was
,
I
was
practicing
living
alone
.
And
this
experience
was
bringing
a
nascent
interior
shift
.
I
was
beginning
to
sense
that
-
even
though
my
life
still
looked
like
a
multi
-
vehicle
accident
on
the
New
Jersey
Turnpike
during
holiday
traffic
-
I
was
tottering
on
the
brink
of
becoming
a
self
-
governing
individual
.
When
I
wasn
’
t
feeling
suicidal
about
my
divorce
,
or
suicidal
about
my
drama
with
David
,
I
was
actually
feeling
kind
of
delighted
about
all
the
compartments
of
time
and
space
that
were
appearing
in
my
days
,
during
which
I
could
ask
myself
the
radical
new
question
:
"
What
do
you
want
to
do
,
Liz
?
"
Most
of
the
time
(
still
so
troubled
from
bailing
out
of
my
marriage
)
I
didn
’
t
even
dare
to
answer
the
question
,
but
just
thrilled
privately
to
its
existence
.
And
when
I
finally
started
to
answer
,
I
did
so
cautiously
.
I
would
only
allow
myself
to
express
little
baby
-
step
wants
.
Like
:
I
want
to
go
to
a
Yoga
class
.
I
want
to
leave
this
party
early
,
so
I
can
go
home
and
read
a
novel
.
