You cannot get a legal divorce in Canada until you have been separated from your spouse for at least one year. This morning, that fact has been eating me up inside.

I spoke to my American Boy last night, as I do every night lately. And on the nights when one of us decides to have, you know, a life or when one of us decides to play around in the life we had before one another, we speak in the morning or afternoon. And for some reason, even if I talk to him every day, it still feels impossible the next morning that it has been only twelve hours since I heard his voice. Our conversations carry us less and less far it seems. Once a week used to feel like a lot. Now once a day isn’t enough. And I’m reminded, yet again, of a line from an Ani Difranco song, “say you never had love so divine… but it will go from more than ever to not enough in no time”.

We are both guessing that the impatience is a sign of us getting closer and closer to the end. Closer and closer to being together each and every day and having the luxury of looking back at these times through fond colored glasses…remembering what it was like to go four weeks without touching one another, without seeing one another, without the part of ourselves that somehow ended up lodged in another person.

Yes, that’s it exactly.

It’s almost like there’s a piece of me hidden inside of him and without him, that piece is lost and just beyond my grasp. The good thing is that now I know where the piece of myself is and I know how to get it…know how to finally make myself whole again. The bad part, of course, is that it exists 540 miles south of the border.

And you know what?

I really miss him.

But I’m getting off track here. Let’s see if I can’t steer this post back into the right direction.

I have been trying to write something for what seems like forever but for what is really about three days. Since my last post. Nothing comes out right. Nothing sounds good. And although I just finished saying that I was going to consciously stop censoring myself and post the shit along with the good stuff, I can’t bring myself to actually do it.

And then this morning, reading that bit of information about divorce in Canada and finding myself spiralling down all over again.

I’ve always said that I wanted to be one of those people who “go and get ‘em”. One of those people who decides what they want and then stop at nothing to get it. One of those people that are described as taking the bull by the horns, or whatever. One of those people who have always gone after the things that they want the most, who stop at nothing until they get it, who are full of determination and focus.

I am not one of those people.

Instead, I tend to feel like hiding. Instead, I tend to feel like I want to give up and lose myself in whatever is front of me. Realizing that I will have to separate from Rock for at least one year before I can divorce him was like running head on into a huge boulder in the road. A barricade. Nothing quick and easy about this life change, eh? There are no quick getaways in Janet Land.

And just yesterday, I felt so sure of everything. So sure that things were moving and everything was going to fall into place quickly. My Mom asking me what Rock and I are planning to do because she has to know what to do with the house. If they will have to sell it or if they will re-new the mortgage. Telling my Mom that I will call her tomorrow. Talking to Rock and finding out that he received another promotion at work and intends to stay. Intends to make this a career and stop looking for other work. Intends to stay in the house… “tell your Mom to renew. I’m staying here.”

All of that felt like something possibly wonderful. Rock is set. My parents will know the truth. I can move on.

And then it hits me.

Move onto what?

And now, my Sweet, I feel like skipping steps. Moving past steps number one and two and heading right into the future. To the cottage by the water. To the house with the big kitchen. To the mini van and the new baby and the company in the middle of the night while I’m nursing.

To have to wait. To have to separate and live apart from Rock and take my kids and start over before I can really start over. To have to drag out my relationship with Rock for at least another year. To have to go through the necessary steps.

Well…

It makes me want to quit. Makes me want to give up. Makes me think it’s not worth it. My happiness is not worth this amount of time and effort and work.

And now how fucked up is that?