So, last week I was making jokes about gearing up for my first of many "bad decisions".
I didn't think by that I meant my estranged husband.
One weak moment and I'm agreeing to dinner and "talk".
Which turned out not to be "talk" at all.
Thank goodness I had the intestinal fortitude to put the brakes on, because in the end, all I heard about was how mean I was, how I never loved him enough, how things never changed enough, how I didn't show him enough love, how poorly I treated him, how down right awful things were.
All this after the talk that wasn't really a talk.
Thank goodness I wasn't that stupid.
I would love to be strictly furious about this. I would love to use it as fuel for how angry I am, how much I hate him, how I'll always hate him.
But unfortunately, it just doesn't work that way.
All I feel is a deep sadness. An emptiness.
Don't get me wrong, I'm angry. Just not angry enough, I guess. Not right this second, anyway.
But I'll get there.
I just need reminding.
Last night was a good reminder.