Last night, I threw my untied knot into a bonfire.

It followed a rectangle of denim with the words “Te Amo” sewed into it.

One of my circles of friends… some of my chosen family… cheered me on.

Today, my parents were coming through town while I was just waking up. I turned down lunch, as I thought Nikki would be making me breakfast. Nope, I had promised her Fleetwood’s famous hippie hash. While getting our food, I ran into my father-in-law, and then (separately, but at the same restaurant) Jody, my mother-in-law. Also, her best friend, who was last in the country to commemorate my grandmother-in-law’s death. I chatted for a bit, and then zipped out of there, as my food and I had already taken quite some time to be united.

Both interactions shocked me, for some reason. Both unsettled me, and triggered my flight instinct. I wanted to run and hide, though I did stay and chat with the in-laws. Something about all of this made me want to hide my face, or feel ashamed, even though I’ve done nothing wrong. How do I relate to Bill now? How do I relate to Jody? To Brandy? To John? To my own parents? To my brother?

How do I look them in the eye when they’re up here for my brithday? How do I feel, and express that I’m feeling, that I haven’t failed? Which, of course, I haven’t.

Of course, writing projects are flourishing, deadlines are being assigned (who thought I’d cheer for deadlines?), and I love my day job. I am in my apartment, I’m not second-guessing whether or not I’ll be there for the semi-long-term, and I dig the place. I’m even mulling over painting. Which, knowing me, will happen three weeks before I move out.

It’s been days since I’ve had the copy of the marriage license. I haven’t filled out the test run of the paperwork yet. Granted, it’s small-scale avoidance, but it’s still there. So, right now, I’m going to go and do that. And I have Nikki backing me up, which makes it somehow… less daunting.

Still scary as hell.