giant metaphorical umbrella


you realize this is it, right? the second I file and the papers are sent off and you put your John Hancock on that document…it’s all over. Bitter is my favorite flavor, but this is a bit much.

I suppose now is the moment to realize that with the click of a pen, our friendship, our courtship and three-year marriage is left to nothing more than a signature and a few tears over beers with friends.

I’ve asked and asked and asked for a year for you to say anything at all to me. “Lets talk about this, let’s try to work this out,” and its all only become terrible lyrics that Brittany will one day scream in to a microphone over a looping pedal and some distortion; because our song will mean nothing without it. I kind feel like our metaphorical song may mean nothing to you anyway. though, if there’s one thing I hope we can agree on, it’s how much of a learning experience this has been for us both. Maybe you haven’t gleaned anything from the situation yet, but you will I promise. I have no regrets where you’re concerned, only that we’d taken our time. From now until forever, I’ll think back on it all and be grateful for where it lead me.


I talked to Nadia about this for quite some time between Sunday night and Monday, after shaking out the contest of a first class package from the US Mail that shook me up real good. Checkbooks with my maiden name, tax return stuff. And then….out shakes the wedding band into the palm of my hand. I had no idea a piece of white gold could upset me so much. I looked at it a realized what that ring means to me now: all of the growing I’ve done over the past eight months (eight months, that’s it!) was right in the center of my hand, circling ’round my head. It was a surge of freedom feelings I never expected, and also sadness…which was totally expected but not welcomed. I thought my heart was going to explode. I remember picking the ring out and being so excited to slide it on to Mark’s finger, proudly declaring that we were married. I didn’t know the reverse would have the reverse effect.

In lieu of my giant wave of melancholy, I took a mental health day yesterday, in hopes of crying it all out over my favorite songs and movies and binge eating peanut m&ms like I had been all weekend.  Instead, both bathrooms almost completely flooded due to a pipe breaking in the apartment above mine….great.

After watching an episode of SNL and cracking up at 7:30 a.m., I decided it was time to take a nap, nodding in approval; “a nap at 8:55 in the morning? now this is how to handle Monday.” I was so happy since there was also a promise of rain, my favorite kind of stay-under-the-covers weather. I was just dozing off, mentally approving of how loud the rain was, when I decided that the rain sounded a little too close. I got up to investigate, annoyed and cussing under my breath when I felt it. “Squisssssssssh,” the carpet in front of my bathroom was completely saturated. I flip on the light? A waterfall was coming from the heater-fixture in the middle of my bathroom. “SHIIIIIIIIT! shit shit shit shit shit,” I said, hopping over the giant puddle in my carpet, over to Jared’s bathroom to have a look; even worse. He had standing water in his bathroom as well. I ran flailing through the house for pots and pans and trash cans and buckets, anything to catch the water and keep the puddle from spreading. I got our big trashcan under the worst, “waterfall,” and frantically searched for, “that dudes number,” that I left on a piece of paper somewhere in Jared’s room. “YES? Hello?! Uhhh yeah, hi. There’s a monsoon happening in my roommate’s bathroom. And my bathroom and the carpets all we- Oh. Oh I’m so sorry, the pool guy. Well, crap! Okay. I’m…sorry. Have a great day! Yes, I’ll be alright, thank you!” I called the wrong person, but this lead the right person showing up at my door with a vacuum to suck up the water.

At one point, while I’m squatting in the hall, sucking up the water with said vacuum, staring at my delicious bed and wishing that I’d gone to work and not called in and had this day another day, I cross the thought about how I’d said, out loud to my mom just the day before, “I know, I know. When it rains, it pours,” AND I HAD TO LAUGH! And I laughed for a solid twenty minutes, full on laugh-til-you-cry laugh. I needed that SO BAD.

Sometimes little things like that make you appreciate despondency. Yeah, everything has been kind of shitty lately. Making grown up decisions, being (as Jared likes to call it and so shall I from here on out) “in your feelings,” and dealing with it all….yeah, things can be terrible-awful. Yes, when it rains sometimes it can feel like it’s pouring, but then follows that moment, the one that pulls you out of the nonsense and makes you feel human for feeling all the things; the moment where you realize it may be raining, pouring even, but you’ve got a giant metaphorical umbrella somewhere (even though it may be hard to find sometimes) and it’s all going to be more than fine.


6 thoughts on “giant metaphorical umbrella

  1. Tricia Berry

    Have that ring melted and made into something that makes you happy when you look at it. Maybe… an umbrella.

  2. Addison Taylor

    That exact monsoon situation happened in my apartment at 2 in the morning a few months ago. I’m glad you were home to catch it! This is an awesome post. Such a real snapshot of life. Keep your chin up, you are handling everything with so much class, from what I can tell.

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