Meine Heart Schmerz

Thank God for Moms. And Ice Cream.

My mom flew into Poland when I shared the bad news about Patrick and I. It's ironic, because only a month ago, she was planning on coming out, and I said no. "This time is for me," I said. "I need this. I need to get away. Get some work done. Get my head straight."

Weird how things work out, right?

So now, she is here. She dropped everything to make sure that I'm sleeping. Eating. Going out. And it's working. And it's really nice. It's nice to have this with her. We sort of needed this, too, in a way. I love her. And I'm glad she can be here to experience the goodness of all this with me. Plus, it has been really cool to hear her speak Polish. My mother grew up speaking Polish with her grandmother, who always lived with her. But when Babchu died in 1982, the Polish died, too. Or, at least, it appeared to. I've been super impressed with how fast it's coming back to her.

I probably shouldn't be blogging about my and Pat's split. I don't want this to upset him, but I feel torn, because it makes me feel better and it's part of this story that I am writing, at least, now it is. How could it not be? Plus, it's incredibly cathartic to get this all out. It's sort of like watching yourself cry in a mirror. For some reason, it allows me to step away from the pain and see this for what it is. Today he said he was feeling happy. Anxiety free. And I know that should probably have made me feel worse, but it didn't. Well, it did at first, and I said very mean things, because that is what I do, and then I realized that it actually made me happy. Because I really do want him to be happy. The way these things work is insane. I try to be rational, but my emotions just don't seem to fit.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's start with Saturday, when my mom got in, because it was a great day. We went to Nowy Swiat, the sort of main shopping district here. Like the Kartnerstrasse in Vienna or Rodeo Drive in LA. We got some coffee and sweets at a cafe. We people watched. And she told me I was going to be fine. Better, even. And I believed her.

Yesterday, we walked like crazy. For some reason, walking really helps right now. I feel like I won't go crazy if I walk. So we did. We walked to Rozbrat -- the street where my grandma lived with Jerzy and his mother during the war. And then we sat in the park, where I saw a girl crying and fighting with her boyfriend and then another couple sucking serious face. And it made me realize how fleeting all this can be. And really, I just want happiness for both Patrick and I. And since we couldn't get that right together, maybe now we'll get that right apart. He is a very good man, all said and done. Sure, he didn't do this the best way -- but how do you do this the best way? I will always love him and he will always be one of the most important people in my life. Even if I do feel like saying really mean things about some of the, ehem, details right now. Sorry, but being a shit sometimes helps.

Later that same day, my mother sat me down at a Spanish restaurant, where we ate gazpacho and salads with quails eggs al fresco and serrano ham on fresh bread. There was a Spanish family sitting at the next table and it felt familiar and comfortable. I felt at home. And I actually ate some food.

Here's some video from our time on Rozbrat: