One Year

Cheers. Cheers to one year of being single, and yet, still married.

Cheers to surviving one year of being left, tormented, mentally tortured, financially strapped and stressed to a level I was previously not familiar with.

Cheers to…maybe…thriving a bit in that year.

Its kind of hard to fathom that a year has passed since PC walked into the house and announced he was leaving me for Trollup. Technically, it’s not a year until tomorrow, but of course–being me–I know what I was doing one year ago today, at this time. I was waiting for PC to come home. And when he did come home, we would have a conversation that would cast black foreboding on the day that was to follow.

In a year, I have learned:

That trust is a very, very precious thing to break. The ramifications splinter in a million different ways.

That my marriage was not what I thought it was. That my naïve nature and strong ability to ignore the ever elusive gut feeling was not, in fact, a blessing in disguise.

That “home” is wherever you are. My old house…how I loved that place. How much I grieved the loss of that among everything. And then, a funny thing happened. I moved. The house I live in now is full of warmth and comfort and yes, wallpaper from the 1950’s and a carpet that holds the remnants of I don’t even want to know what. But its a place where everyone is welcome. It bears touches of everyone who is important to me. The people who’ve helped me work on it. Furniture from my childhood home. Gifts, big and small, that situate themselves around the house.  There are touches of everyone in this house.

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In a year, I have learned that I am stronger than I thought I was.

In a year, I have learned that no one is strong on their own. Strength comes from those around you. Sometimes it comes from a little medicinal help. Sometimes it comes from driving with loud music. Sometimes it comes from writing, and sometimes it comes from hearing about the trials of others and counting your blessings.

Sometimes it comes in signs from above. Sometimes it comes straight from God.

In a year, I have learned that although PC will cause immense drama and unnecessary nonsense, his threats are just threats. He hasn’t won anything, not really. I won’t lie and say I actually react this way every time, but I’m learning.

Tonight, I attended my son’s game. PC–ever the super Dad–is the coach. Since the winter season started, Trollup has also attended each game. The first time, she caught my by surprise and so I moved over and she sat with me. Tonight, I walked a fine line between being the non-rude person that I am and thinking to myself I don’t want to sit by her. Why should I sit by her? And so I didn’t. It would figure that PC would bring her to soccer and dump her in a crowd with me and my friends to fend for herself. Thoughtful man that he is.

Yesterday, PC texted to tell me he would not be able to take our son to the game because “I have plans afterward.” This text was completely unnecessary as (a) I never asked him to take our son and (b) the kids were with me so there is no reason I would have assumed he would be taking them. It dawned on me then. Because PC is so predictable. If this is the one year anniversary of our split, its also the one year anniversary of their love affair becoming official. Blech. Barf. But knowing PC, I will bet you he and Trollup were headed for a night out after the game.

Of course they were. No one shows up at soccer dressed up like they were. And of course, PC wanted to make sure I knew that.

But the funniest part of this is: when PC left last year, I think he envisioned all the free time he would have to frolic with Trollop. He would only be responsible for the kids here and there. I would do everything, and he would just get to enjoy them in minimal doses. But tomorrow night, which is literally the official “one year” mark, where will PC be? At Trollup’s house with her and all their collective kids.

And where will I be? Out at a bar with my lovely girlfriend, listening to a band and celebrating…something. Survival.

The “funny” part about that is I’ll be out living it up…which is all he ever wanted. And he’ll be home with a family….which truly, in my heart of hearts, is all I ever wanted.

But. Shit happens. I’m letting myself sip wine and be a bit maudlin tonight. I’m reminding myself that no matter how rough things are, I have so much more than PC ever will. I have a home, I have family. I have love (maybe not romantic love but, eh). I have friends who would do anything for me. I have a fucking authentic life. And what have I lost? Someone supportive? Negative. Someone who loved me? Negative. A family? Maybe in the traditional sense. Financial security…yeah.

But herein lies my gift to myself on this wretched anniversary. So, I’ve always written and since I was a little kid I wanted two things in life: to be a mom, and to be a writer. I remember dabbling here and there, getting serious about it awhile back and PC–that motherfucking asshole–telling me well, when you publish something, then I’ll be impressed. PC, who had never bothered the read anything I’d written, not even the goddamn term papers I wrote for him in college.

So today, I self published a book on Amazon. I haven’t told a single soul yet. I haven’t promoted it, and I have no idea what the next step is. I might have rushed it a bit because something in me said get this done by November 17th. And so I did. Maybe it will amount to nothing and maybe it will be a stepping stone to greater things. Financial freedom. Feeding my soul.

So. Cheers to me. Happy one year of being free.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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