Yesterday, I nearly burst into tears during my lunch break.
For no other reason than the fact that I had received an e-mail from the ass hat saying the papers had been filed, and we should know about them being finalized in a few weeks or so.
And here I’m sitting at the horseshoe-shaped leveled reading table with Precious Moment’s-sized tears threatening to spill over onto my delicious, thick-sliced deli turkey sandwich. (It really was a delicious sandwich. Not so delicious that you could cry over it, but…)
And as I’m trying to hold back these tears, all I can think of is, “What the heck is WRONG with you?! You’ve been anticipating this for months! You’re ready to have this over with! WHY ARE YOU READY TO CRY?!?!”
And then it occurred to me… I’m a girl and my Aunt Flo is visiting this week. It seems I only cry over this mess of a situation during those times. And so, as was my monthly habit, I came home and bawled my eyes out for a good hour.
It was probably needed, but it still bothered me. It bothered me that he still has the power to bother me. He bothers me with his emotionless, robotic correspondence. He bothers me when he treats this like a business transaction with a stranger. He bothers me when he’s the only person I can ask certain questions of… like about the car, or shared life insurance policies, or the like. He bothers me when he tries to be friendly and earn “nice guy” points. He bothers me when he can just end a marriage like he’s dropping off clothes at a Salvation Army donation spot. When is it going to stop bothering me? When am I going to stop fantasizing about keying his car and punching him in the face? When can I have my monthly visit from Aunt Flo and not cry over a delicious turkey sandwich?
I know it takes time. I know there will be times when I’ll think I’m fine and suddenly discover I’m not. I know there will be triggers that just set me off. I know, I know, I know. But this is turning out to be a lot harder than I thought it would be. And look at me… I’m blogging about the dreaded “D” word again. Blar.
I’m going to go fantasize about punching him in the face now.