It’s been about 6 weeks since I’ve been free from the tyranny that was John, my husband, now my ex-husband.

I can remember when I became a wife and he became my husband what a kick I got out of saying, “I’ll ask my husband” or “My husband likes that”.  Now I get the same kind of wonder and thrill when I say my ex-husband.  It didn’t take me long at all to stop tripping up and saying “my husband” and having to correct myself “I mean, my ex-husband”.  I know whoever I’m talking to doesn’t care either way, but it is important to me to be clear for my own sake.  I keep expecting to break down into tears when I realize finally that it’s over.  That hasn’t happened in fact I just keep getting happier and more peaceful as each day goes by.

Tonight, he called and said he was coming by with some things I left behind and to give Allison her birthday card.  I said okay and immediately began to try on clothes that make me look thin and young.  Of course, I don’t have any sort of magical clothing that does that, so I settled with a long t-shirt and skinny jeans.  Put my hair up, let it down, put it back up again.  Thought about makeup, decided against it, I mean it was 8pm, makeup wasn’t going to improve me enough to be worth it.

The last time I had seen him was the day I moved and he stood in the doorway of his house and said I couldn’t come in ever again.

This time, at my house, I invited him in and let him look at the kitchen and the living room.  He seemed normal, the way he would treat anyone else.    We chatted a bit the way we always have and then he left.

No rush of emotions either way.









Peace of Mind

It wasn’t so bad at first.  I could cope with the gum smacking and the loud voice.  Well, actually that is a lie.  Nice, I’ve started out my maudlin plea with a lie.  I hate this person…how’s that for the truth? I’ll start out again.

Six months ago it began.  It wasn’t so bad at first.  A little loud and talked a lot, but as time went on more annoying and downright obnoxious behavior surfaced.  A flippant attitude to the kids, talking with mouth full, sweats stuffed into slippers, loud personal calls, gossiping and on and on and on.

All of this only three feet from my desk. I have to force myself not to roll my eyes and sigh half the day.

How is a quiet, polite, professional, anxiety ridden bipolar II woman supposed to handle this day in and day out? Seven hours a day!  I am either a zombie or a nervous wreck by the time I get home.

My doctor thinks the combination of this person and my friend dying has been too much on my poor little brain and it’s buckling under the added stress.  Unnecessary anxiety attacks.

I’m tired of persevering.  I don’t know whether I deserve it or not, but I just want a little peace of mind.