Confessions are fascinating offerings, aren’t they? We take our innermost thoughts and perhaps secrets, very slices of our souls, and give them away for others to take, judge, identify with, relate to, misconstrue, understand, be flatly against or wholly believe in –or somewhere in between- and be entertained, influenced and even, if we are lucky, educated by.

I have told many a confession here and in other places ‘round the web and it has certainly been interesting seeing my confessions evolve – through strings of stories, tales of encounters and situations, around thoughts that surround them, interweaved with lessons I’ve learned… and even a few that were probably missed. I’ve enjoyed every bit of sharing my thoughts and experiences here, even when I didn’t love the circumstances or situations that lead to my expressions of them.

And isn’t that what confessing is all about after all? Putting out there for at least one other person to hear so that we can release a piece of ourselves – leveling, unifying, communicating, creating a connection of some sort so that we don’t feel as if we are alone in it – whatever it may be. Chances are if we have had a thought or experience, someone else has had a similar one.

I confess that I have loved discovering that I’m not alone out there in the infinitely vast landscape that is life. It’s made me feel secure, like a pillow across my lap while I watch TV. Confident like a brand-new pair of well-fitting jeans. Contented as a young child in her mother’s lap.

I also confess that I am in the midst of what feels like, thus far, the most arduous and overwhelming thing I have ever experienced.

He moved out this weekend, my husband of 15 years. Our daughter helped him pack up some of his belongings and install his provisions into his new apartment. They shopped for new home items together, she excitedly helped him set up his bed and whateverelse, and together they carved out a special space for her. She will rotate between us weekly and throughout this entire process she has done very, very well.

I however, have been confronted by the abject aloneness of finalizing a departure from someone who has functioned as so much a part of me for so very long. Coming home yesterday to a half empty closet and a reminder of what was sent me absolutely reeling with dread and overwhelm… and sadness.

But I will work through these bits of challenge. It’s what we do, isn’t it? We take what comes our way in the manner we know how. I can complain and cry or I can suck it up and move forward. For the time being, I suppose I will do some of both. In the interest of balance and all that. I will just have to try to remember during the particularly difficult parts that I’ve designed it this way. I asked for what I wanted, what I needed – space for each of us to figure some things out – and I got exactly that.

So, really, I can’t complain. Besides, I still have hope that this thing will work out between us.

And the wonderful thing about hope is that it can spur us toward action – something that relationships must fully and steadily encompass in order for them to be sustainable, but which is often tragically forgotten.

So, here’s to hope, to more confessions… and to whatever else will be.