Hid My Soiled Hands Behind My Back

I had a concert ticket for myself to see a band that I love at a venue I’ve always wanted to go to, tonight. Even had my daughter’s care all lined up so I could go. Instead I chickened out.  I didn’t go.  I bought the ticket when I was 2 days on my own, Miss Empowered, Miss Independent.  4 months later it just makes me sad that what I really wanted to do was experience that band, that venue with someone I love.  So I stayed home and scrubbed the hell out of my toilet and gave the ticket to a girl at work that I respected enough to give the experience to.  Plus she had a date, who was hot, and more power to ya, my single sister.

The CD of the band is the last anniversary gift my ex-husband gave me while we lived together.  I realized that this morning when I was trying to decide if I should go or not.  You could say that sorta sealed the deal.

So I’m sitting here in my living room feeling topics swirling around in my gut.  I just finished a call with a dear friend going through the same thing and as always, it gave me a lot to digest.  So now I’m forcing you to join me in the digestion.  Welcome to my intestines, my dear-hearts.

We talked about a lot of things.  One of which was that I finished unpacking the storage shed boxes that my ex dropped off.  Guess what was in the last box in the interior of the last tub?  Our wedding mementos.  Cards, lists and plans I made, receipts for his suit, our rings, pictures.  Everything.  Why it was tucked away in a box like that is probably telling, but even more symbolic, it was the very last thing I had to deal with materially between us.  And of course he left it for me to go through, something else symbolic entirely.

I didn’t throw it away, I couldn’t.  It represented a lot of hope and happiness and I used the excuse that my kid might want to see it one day.  Plus, there was a card from my great-grandparents in there who have since passed.  So I tucked it away for fresh heartache the next time I have to get in that box.  I hope I don’t have to get in that box.


We also talked about how some of our loved ones have no idea how to comfort us.

You might not know me too well, seeing how I’ve never met you in person, we didn’t grow up together and hell, I don’t even go by my real name on here.  You see, I’m the girl that always takes care of herself.  Oh, trust me, I take EXCELLENT care of everyone else.  But I’m the strong one, the one people lean on, the one that gets shit done, the powerful one.  I pay my bills, I host excellent parties, I fold my laundry and I know how to talk to strangers.  No one worries about me.

So any idea how I can get them to start?

Because any more of those surprise boxes, those unused concert tickets, those dirty toilets and I’m going to need to wave the white flag.


I also came across some old emails today at work.  Emails back and forth between my ex & I when we were working out hte details of moving out, custody, etc.  All peaceful and positive and it reminded me, like a punch in the chest, that I loved him once.  All this anger and sadness has blocked that out.  In one email we thanked each other for allowing the other to find this space we needed, and we signed it “Love You.”  How did we get to short conversations with so much underlying anger in 4 months?


So this is everything I’m digesting.  I’m so ready to let go of it.  To let it pass.  Thankfully, Biology class taught me that the next step for all of this is to go through my ass and out of my body.

Flush, flush.



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