Girls say "yes we can"
I don't blog much anymore. You know that. I know that. When my music writing started to pick up I stopped having as much time write personally, save for the occasional sentimental goo that seems to seep into my reviews from time to time. Additionally, the last year of my life has been -- ah, again the hesitation. Every time I start to write about it, I stop.
The last year was both the best and worst of my life.
It's been hard to figure out how, or if, or why I should share these personal developments publicly. But I've come to trust the readers of this blog (save for you, anonymous Tijuana hooker guy), and I don't know if I can NOT write about it anymore. You know?
Where to begin: I got married in the late, hot summer of 2005. It was rushed, the whole thing. We moved in together fast, got engaged fast, got married fast. There was a momentum pushing us through the entire process, until one day we got home and realized we were married and had no idea what came next. I almost immediately slid into depression, fueled by an identity crisis and confusion about where I, where we, were headed. I did what I always do when I hit a wall. I started writing.
My writing started to take over all of my free time; I couldn't get enough of it. That winter, I started going to four or five shows a week, writing reviews of every single one. I wrote a whole goddamn novel and threw it away. Just to write. Just to feel like I was going somewhere.
The marriage wasn't all bad. I liked doing wife things; cooking dinner, cleaning, knowing I was taking care of something, tending to something. I liked the security. But a lot of things were off about the whole arrangement, and pretty soon there was a lot of fighting and a lot of growing apart. He started playing computer games relentlessly. I stuck to my writing and my music. There weren't many things we did together. It wasn't necessarily either one of our faults, even, it was just wrong. The way snow in May is wrong. The way an overdrafted checkbook is wrong. It just didn't add up to what I thought marriage would be.
I rode it out for a long time, hoping we could work it out. Eventually, it became pretty clear we couldn't. He became increasingly negative and mean-spirited, lowering my self-esteem to almost nothing. I stopped fighting back.
And then, one day, I stood up, collected my things, wrote a long letter, and left.
My entire life is different now. A week after I left, I got offered a new job. A full-time job, writing. I started rearranging everything in my life. I went back to being a vegetarian, stopped smoking, started exercising, bought a bike. I found love, a real and true and honest love, the likes of which I haven't felt since I was 18 years old and knocking my knees together over the idea that two people could light each other on fire, set each other free, act out the lyrics in so many songs.
Yesterday, almost seven months after leaving my husband, I got a letter in the mail saying that my divorce had been finalized. The letter was only one sentence long, but it's the most decisive letter I've ever gotten. Suddenly, my name was legally different than it was before. It was hard not to feel like an entirely different person than I had been a half hour before, driving home from the gym, thinking about what to have for dinner.
It's been a long transition, but it's over now. I did it. I survived.
Earlier this week, I watched with a lump in my throat as Obama laid out his plans for change. For the first time in years, I felt like I didn't have to be cautious about my optimism, my hope for the future. With all of this behind me, I know that Obama was right. The whole time, he was right. Yes we can. Yes we did. Yes we will.
I'm back, for now. I want to share these things with you. I want to let you in again. Can we still be friends?
ANDREA SWENSSON
The last year was both the best and worst of my life.
It's been hard to figure out how, or if, or why I should share these personal developments publicly. But I've come to trust the readers of this blog (save for you, anonymous Tijuana hooker guy), and I don't know if I can NOT write about it anymore. You know?
Where to begin: I got married in the late, hot summer of 2005. It was rushed, the whole thing. We moved in together fast, got engaged fast, got married fast. There was a momentum pushing us through the entire process, until one day we got home and realized we were married and had no idea what came next. I almost immediately slid into depression, fueled by an identity crisis and confusion about where I, where we, were headed. I did what I always do when I hit a wall. I started writing.
My writing started to take over all of my free time; I couldn't get enough of it. That winter, I started going to four or five shows a week, writing reviews of every single one. I wrote a whole goddamn novel and threw it away. Just to write. Just to feel like I was going somewhere.
The marriage wasn't all bad. I liked doing wife things; cooking dinner, cleaning, knowing I was taking care of something, tending to something. I liked the security. But a lot of things were off about the whole arrangement, and pretty soon there was a lot of fighting and a lot of growing apart. He started playing computer games relentlessly. I stuck to my writing and my music. There weren't many things we did together. It wasn't necessarily either one of our faults, even, it was just wrong. The way snow in May is wrong. The way an overdrafted checkbook is wrong. It just didn't add up to what I thought marriage would be.
I rode it out for a long time, hoping we could work it out. Eventually, it became pretty clear we couldn't. He became increasingly negative and mean-spirited, lowering my self-esteem to almost nothing. I stopped fighting back.
And then, one day, I stood up, collected my things, wrote a long letter, and left.
My entire life is different now. A week after I left, I got offered a new job. A full-time job, writing. I started rearranging everything in my life. I went back to being a vegetarian, stopped smoking, started exercising, bought a bike. I found love, a real and true and honest love, the likes of which I haven't felt since I was 18 years old and knocking my knees together over the idea that two people could light each other on fire, set each other free, act out the lyrics in so many songs.
Yesterday, almost seven months after leaving my husband, I got a letter in the mail saying that my divorce had been finalized. The letter was only one sentence long, but it's the most decisive letter I've ever gotten. Suddenly, my name was legally different than it was before. It was hard not to feel like an entirely different person than I had been a half hour before, driving home from the gym, thinking about what to have for dinner.
It's been a long transition, but it's over now. I did it. I survived.
Earlier this week, I watched with a lump in my throat as Obama laid out his plans for change. For the first time in years, I felt like I didn't have to be cautious about my optimism, my hope for the future. With all of this behind me, I know that Obama was right. The whole time, he was right. Yes we can. Yes we did. Yes we will.
I'm back, for now. I want to share these things with you. I want to let you in again. Can we still be friends?
ANDREA SWENSSON
Nice post, Andrea. I know these things are hard to write, and it sounds like it really has been a rollercoster of a year. Some of the most important years in my life have also been the most difficult; the two often seem to go hand in hand.
Posted by
Max Sparber |
9:16 PM, November 07, 2008
Only if you can find some time in early January to come talk to a bunch of wiener kids about how awesome you and the field you work in are/is.
OK, even if you don't, but that would still be super cool. I'm glad you are re-emerging, so to speak. :)
Posted by
Pat |
12:12 PM, November 09, 2008
Funny that for as long as I've "known" you via the internet, I've never really read your blog. I just stumbled over to it today by chance after looking at Zosia's, and was surprised that you still even bothered with this thing at all, considering all the other writing you already do.
And, anyway, it was nice to read something very personal. So thank you for that.
Posted by
Jeremy |
4:41 PM, November 19, 2008
Great post, Andrea. Thanks for sharing those intimate details and being honest about what, I'm sure is a hard situation to put into words.
Posted by
911 Exhaust |
3:45 PM, July 24, 2009