It’s so damn cold and according to the weather app that I have on my phone, it’s getting even more frigid this upcoming week. These are the times when I’m glad that I’m unable to work. I get to hunker down in my bitch cave. I am one lucky gal.
Oh yeah. Happy Valentines Day. I celebrated this Hallmark holiday with my boyfriend yesterday because he had other obligations today. (His mother, who is elderly.) He took me to a little pizzeria and then surprised me with a heart shaped pizza.
I never had anyone in my life before who made any sincere effort.
Anyway, the real reason why I’m here attempting to write something (besides my therapist pushing me so hard to do so) is to report some new information that I just found out a few days ago.
My ex-husband has remarried.
You know how it goes. A friend sees something on Facebook whilst mindlessly scrolling. Am I still too delicate to handle it? Was it appropriate to tell me?
In the end, the truth was told, as gently as possible. And I am truly grateful that she did decide to tell me.
I’m not shocked. I already knew that he was engaged. I had a strange reaction; a painful cut to my heart, but only a knick. That night, I had dreams filled with rejection. The main star was my first real boyfriend, which is weird, but hey, whatever.
I discussed it with a couple of friends. I concluded that although it does indeed hurt a bit, I’m still relieved that we’re not together anymore. I almost feel bad for his new wife. He hasn’t changed, I know this for a fact. It’s only a matter of time before his mask falls off.
I’m not a nice enough person to wish them the best.
A Taylor Swift song that my friend sent me includes a few lyrics that perfectly fit my emotions.
15 years, 15 million tears
Begging ’til my knees bled
I gave it my all, he gave me nothing at all
Then wondered why I left
Now he sits on his throne in his palace of bones
Praying to his greed
He’s got my past frozen behind glass
But I’ve got me
That old familiar body ache
The snaps from the same little breaks in my soul
I know when it’s time to go
Sometimes giving up is the strong thing
Sometimes to run is the brave thing
Sometimes walking out is the one thing
That will find you the right thing
Thank you, young, yet wise Taylor Swift.
I wouldn’t go back, fuck no. I’ve gained too much. It’s been such a long journey returning to myself. Going backwards is not an option.
Yet, I’m perfectly human. Indeed, it stings somewhat, although the knowledge that he hasn’t done any work on himself makes me realize just what an empty vessel he really is. He did tell my mother, the last time they communicated, that he had no idea what love was. I’m doubtful that he’s figured it out.
Discard, devalue, replace.
I don’t only have myself back…my relationship with my daughter is stronger than ever. That’s a true love story, if you ask me.
I could list so many things that I’ve gained since I kicked his lying, cheating fat ass out. But I’m struggling to string any coherent sentences together as it is. I hope that my therapist is correct when she told me the other day that writing is a part of who I am and that it’ll come back to me again.
As always, stay safe. And thanks for reading, you guys.