Well Rested...

"You look great."

She smiled, "Well thank you."

"No, I mean really great. Like..." Janet paused and lowered her voice, "Did you get work done?"

Gracie laughed. "No, no work done. That's quite the compliment."

"So what is the secret then? Better living through chemistry?"

"No chemistry. No products, no peels."

"Well whatever happened it looks good on you."

Gracie took a sip of water and relished the compliment. Lately she had gotten a lot of them. Which made her feel good on one hand and a little bad on the other. How bad did she look before that everyone felt the need to comment on how good she looked now? But they weren't wrong after all. She did look so much better now. And it wasn't what people thought. No nose job. No face lift. Not even a new moisturizer. 

She just wasn't exhausted anymore. 

She had been exhausted for so long that she had stopped noticing it. It was just part of who she was. Always tired. Always pushed to the maximum edge. And now? She wasn't. 

The kids were grown. That helped. But it wasn't really that. All of  her friends had children at the same time so they all had shared that bone tired feeling that started at labor and lifted, well eventually. That part was different for all of them. Each child required a different level of care after all. But child care tired was something they all had in common. 

Work was good now. She had reached a level where she had assistants that handled the mundane tasks and she was free to focus on the things she loved to do. She was able to make a difference. How corny did that sound? Like something you would say at a job interview along with being a quick learner and a people person. She just wanted to make a difference. But it was true. That's what she liked doing. She liked helping teams solve problems. She liked working out the best way for the different groups in her company to work together. It was all very nebulous sounding but now it was her job. And she loved it. Getting up for work every day with a sense of purpose instead of a feeling of what must be done was liberating. And energizing. 

But that wasn't it either. Kids and work had been tiring for sure. But not exhausting. 

He had been exhausting. 

Or at least the way she was around him. 

Always worried about how he was going to feel. How he was going to take what she was saying. How he would respond to everything around him. Always working her best to make sure he shined the brightest. That the kids were what he expected them to be. It was exhausting. 

Gauging every lift of an eyebrow. Every twitch of a lip. Every single micro expression that crossed his face. Was he happy? Was he mad? Did he want to talk? Did he want quiet? Was today a good day or was today going to be a bad one?

It had been her life. Everything else was secondary. The kids, work, herself. She hadn't even realized it until he left her. And then she had spent quite a few months wondering what was wrong with her. Not what was wrong with her that lead him to leave, but what was wrong with her that her marriage of 28 years was over and she felt...well not what she thought she should feel. Not what everyone seemed to expect her to feel. She faked it though. She told people it was so hard. That she was so sad. She told the kids she would be fine, eventually. Put on the sorrowful face they all seemed to be expecting. 

But...

She didn't feel that way at all. At first she just felt a little off. A little hollow. She thought it must be shock. And she had been shocked when he announced he was going. That he had decided she wasn't fulfilling his needs and he wanted a divorce. She had thought she would be jealous when she realized that someone else had stepped into that place. But when she realized there was another woman she didn't hate her she...

Well she pitied her. 

And that was the first thought she had that made sense. She realized when she saw her face to face for the first time, when he brought her to their former shared house to pick up some things he had left behind, when she looked at the woman who had "stolen" her husband and she felt sadness. But it wasn't for herself. It was for the woman she was looking at. The one who already was forming a wrinkle between her eyes. The concentration wrinkle. The one that let her know she was already watching him, worrying about him, wondering how he was going to react. Oh, Gracie pitied her. But at the base of the pity for the other woman was relief for herself. She didn't care how he felt about picking up his things. If he was going to appreciate the care she had taken in packing them up or find fault in the way she loaded the boxes. She searched her feelings as he pulled out of the driveway and found she just didn't care.

She slept soundly that night. 

She had been sleeping soundly for many nights by that point. 

But that night she realized it wasn't grief making her take to her bed at 10 and not moving until the sun came up and peeked through the curtains at 6. It was relief. It was calm. It was peace. 

When she made her coffee in the morning and used the half and half that she preferred instead of the heavy cream that he did she smiled. When she left the toast crumbs on the counter until after she had eaten instead of cleaning them up and eating a cold breakfast she sighed with contentment. 

When she was having a conversation with a friend she didn't worry about what words she was using. What stories she was telling. How he might take offense. Or feel slighted. Or ignored. She just did what she wanted. It was easy.

Life was easier now. 

She wasn't so exhausted. 

"Well you look great, but how are you feeling?" Janet reached across the table and patted Gracie's hands in a comforting gesture.

Gracie gave her friend a small smile, "I'm doing okay, thank you."

She was. She was doing just fine. 

She wasn't exhausted anymore. 

( This came from a song I heard while working out yesterday, it was something like I don't feel like crying. When I saw the title and heard the first part of the song I thought, this is a good fu breakup song. He left, but she doesn't feel like crying. You go, girl! But then it was all about how wallowing wouldn't help no matter how sad she was. Which is also a good message, but not quite the fu song I was thinking it would be.  Add that to a moment this morning where a friend of mine posted something ridiculous (as they tend to do) and I was going to ask a question about it because it seemed like they were taking offense at one thing that was just like another thing that they don't care about...and then I remembered the number of arguments we've had in the past where they would move goal posts, or disregard what was actually being said to argue about something unrelated, and I thought...I'm too tired for that. It's exhausting sometimes being your friend...and BOOM! story)