Finally. I think I’ve gotten over the loss of my husband, to be clear, I lost him to another person, not death. I guess I could have said “I’ve gotten over my ‘divorce” but there is something shameful that comes over me when I say the D- word. It’s a reminder of another broken dream – one that may not have been mine to begin with. For me, the feelings that come with breaking another’s heart are harder than feeling my own heart break.
“Ju breaking my hart” is all me and my dumb and dumber sisters hear from our parents. And in spite of being 40-ish, gracefully single…..All of us be downloading Tinder, trying to get skinny, and asking any man who looks in our direction to date…Like fuck, it’s desperation that ain’t even ours. Thanks mom. Thanks dad. Those fuckers would prolly say ‘You’re welcome.”
Right, so back to being over my marriage being done (Still can’t say the word, “divorce.”), the better part of the last decade has typically been me slipping into a coma this time of year. Haunted by memories of wedding anniversaries, birthdays etc. Raise your hands if you fall in the fall, ’cause i always do.
Truth is, I think I chose to feel sad. In some way, I felt that holding onto to some degree of pain kept me accountable, helped me avoid making the same mistakes. Or maybe hanging onto the sadness kept any chance of committed relationships at bay. Sure I had Captain Goodtimes, but as in love with him I was, I was preserving myself big time. By the way, I know you’re reading this. In fact I know all a million of you men whom I’ve enchanted over the last decade are reading this; Here it is: the reason why I was a distant b.
I’ve been feeling pretty damn alright for the most part and so much lighter than usual this time of year. Guess I’ve served my time in the prison of guilt and shame, a 10 year sentence served.
I’m still physically exhausted and only wake to the thought of going back to bed. But fucking A, It’s still progress.