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OK. Deep breathing. I had a good weekend. BYU football is still bringing me joy. I hung out with some really close friends. I managed to get my house in presentable order. I bulked up the food storage and bought my bridesmaid dress. I visited with my cousin and I got a little quality time in with my niece. On the whole, it was healthy and productive.
And you know how when you're in soul-searching mode you can get inspiration anywhere? Part of me hates to admit it, and a bigger chunk of me despises myself for pulling the dramatic 7th-grader move I'm about to, but seriously, I heard this song that gave me some good perspective. Ew. I can't believe I'm posting lyrics (nothing like somebody else's words on MY blog, but I just can't not share them, and plagiarism is a no-no), but they're from the musical "Children of Eden." Noah sings about Japheth:

"As a child I found a sparrow that had fallen from its nest/
And I nursed it back to health till it was stronger than the rest/
But when I tried to hold it, then it pecked and scratched my chest till I let it go/
And I watched it fly away from me with its bright and selfish song/
And part of me was cursing I had helped it grow so strong/
And I feared it might go hungry, and I feared it might go wrong/
But I could not close the acorn once the oak began to grow/
And I cannot close my heart to what it fears and needs to know/
That the hardest part of love is letting go."

OK. All cheesiness aside, I realize that letting go may be what's required of me now. I don't want to, though. I feel that pull of unconditional love. Even when I don't like Ray's choices (and the only ones that really hurt me or make me upset are those where he's cutting himself off from other people who love him-- namely our mutual friends), I still ache for his happiness. If letting go will give it to him, I'll do it. But it's a huge leap of faith. It's not like my love for him will someday make him boomerang back to me. There are no guarantees. This type-A pushing personality of mine tempts me every day to buy a load of silverware to drive down and hand deliver to him (it's a long story, but suffice it to say it would be an act of desperate love). But I know that's not what he wants.
This morning I woke up thinking about how it takes three weeks to make or break a habit. Ray cut me off fifteen days ago. If I were just a habit to him, the detox should take full effect in a matter of days. But I still secretly hope that he's hanging by at least a thread to our friendship. It's got me tied up in knots, but I'm not ready to cut the cord. I'm not desperately clinging to it, but I'm still lassoed.