The fog is lifting; I’m a little disoriented. I’m not sure exactly how I’m feeling or what I need.

I go through the motions – the gym, the food, the meetings… taking care of the kids… I wash my face and fix my hair and makeup. I’m packing for the trip.

But I’m still a little bit numb.

This is when it’s hardest for me to write – when I feel disconnected from myself. What do I say? What do I want or need to say? I really don’t know.

I’m excited about the trip to Rome.

I’m nervous about the trip to Rome.

The friend I’m meeting there is a wonderful person who’s way too good to me. I have volumes to write on that subject, but I’m not ready to share all of that yet. For now, I’ll just say that I think he only knows one side of me – or maybe he knows the other side, but he likes to pretend she doesn’t exist. Or maybe he thinks that she would go away if I were in the “right” environment, with no one around to antagonize me. I tend to hide the “bad” side of myself from him – the part who curses and gets gritty and feels sexy and earthy.

I’m trying to pack for all of my personalities, because I want to just be myself – all of myself. I’m not sure who will show up at the Leonardo da Vinci Fiumicino Airport.

I have some warm, practical sight-seeing outfits and a pair of sport-style shoes. I have fashionable sweaters, my everyday flared jeans and mid-height Donald J. Pliner heels (the most comfortable heels in the world). I even have an outfit for “pretty” Lisa, who likes to be a princess sometimes, complete with dark red patent stilettos.

I’m taking a stylish Calvin Klein overcoat, red velvet gloves, and a charcoal grey newsboy-style Juicy Couture hat. For the plane I have a red patent boarding bag, a convertible clutch for daytime, and a black sequin evening bag for a nice dinner (a Christmas gift from Renee).

I’m leaving the CFM lingerie at home; it’s not going to be that sort of trip. Only my “just-for-me”, “feel-good-and-sexy” lingerie is coming along.

The thought of traveling to Europe and not seeing the Belgian is a sad one. I just can’t help but think that seeing Italy with him would be divinely gritty.

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