Monthly Archives: December 2014

I Need to Forgive Myself

I’ve had a few down days. My anger is noticeable. I have to work hard not to take it out on my mom. She’s an easy target because she’s incredibly annoying.

Did my volunteer work at the kids center today and had a new advocate shadowing me. She’s mid forties and she was so clueless about when to talk, when not to — the young university students who volunteer there are more savvy than she was. But it is funny to think I’ve been doing this volunteer work for almost a year and I’m pretty good at it.

Last February I was still very, very raw and in so much pain when I began the training. It was hard to concentrate and I felt extremely socially stunted. I didn’t know how I came across. Pretty quickly I saw that they like me and consider me a huge asset. That feels so good. I love what I do there.

At the Saturday breakfast at church I’m not so sure I belong. I sort of stick out because I don’t have very many clothes and the ones I do have are not very casual. I think homeless people might be a little too much for me to bear which is odd because sitting with a ten year old who just admitted her stepbrother has been abusing her for years doesn’t seem to phase me. I guess we’re all strong in some areas and weaker in others.

But the good news about Saturday is that I chatted with the assistant priest (the one who was just ordained) about wanting to be useful. I told him the bare minimum of my sad tale. He was nodding his head and said, “It’s like a death, isn’t it?” He really got it. I adore him! I gave him my card and told him that as he starts new projects and needs help, to call me. He was delighted.

Then when I saw him after church the next day he asked me if I could bring a salad to the Feast of the Epiphany which takes place on January 6th. I told him yes, of course, and thanked him for asking me. Everyone needs to be needed. I need to be needed. I also ordered a book on line because starting in a week or two there will be some education classes I want to attend on Sunday evenings. It might be a better opportunity to get to know people there.

One thing the priest said to me is when he first joined the church, which I think was only in 2000, he was a lot like me — feeling the need to be there often. That just waiting for Sundays was hard. And it is. There is a service on Wednesday mornings that I may start to attend. And of course I can go there and light a candle and sit anytime I want to.

The Sunday service was odd because the Sunday after Christmas is a really low attendance day. Even the choir took the day off. But I drink it in, all of it.

My STBX messaged me yesterday to ask how I was and if I wanted to talk on the phone. I responded, ‘no, not really, unless you have news’ which he didn’t. But we did end up speaking on the phone and after I was done at the kids center today I met him downtown and he gave me another $50. I was hoping for more because he sold a car, but I don’t know how much was profit, and I’m not supposed to know he sold the car.

So I met him downtown again today and he came to the window and stood and counted out the $50 as if it were $5000. We talked for only a minute or so and I began to pull away from the curb when he opened the door and asked if I’d drive him home. So he got in and I drove him there. It just feels so damed weird. He really smelled good — he goes overboard on the cologne. I dropped him off and came home — it was all so surreal.

He was complaining of the bitter cold and talked about “getting out of this place.” This town has lost its novelty for him. He needs a new and bigger city. But I know the truth and the truth is that he will take his troubles everywhere he goes whether it’s Portland or Los Angeles or London, England.

Wherever he goes, there he is.

And what emotion do I find myself having tonight? Pity. I feel so sorry for him. But I guess as long as he’s oblivious to the fact that he brings all this trouble on himself, he shouldn’t feel too bad.

Who am I kidding? He doesn’t feel bad EVER. He’s a supreme narcissist! Duh. See how he tugs at my heartstrings and makes me forget that he’s fucking a 26 year old? He’s good at that.

I wish I didn’t still somehow find him appealing. I imagine that sounds pretty sick after all the things I say about him here. I just hope that someday I can feel that way about someone who is truly deserving.

I wrote a short note to my last husband — the good one — the 18 year marriage I fucked up. He’s still close to my daughter so he asked her if I’d be comfortable giving him my email. I told her yes. He’s not at all the type to email me more than a response to my note. He’s very happy in his relationship. I’m sort of eager to see what he says, on the other hand I don’t want to read it. I’m so envious of his relationship with his wife. I just needed to tell him how sorry I am.

I have so much guilt over ruining that relationship and I’m mourning it along with my current relationship — he would have always taken care of me. I had all the security in the world. I threw it away and never had it again I feel like such an imbecile. I never gave myself a chance to mourn the loss of him and recover before I met my now STBX.

I’m incredibly ashamed at how I’ve lived my life with no thought to becoming old or using up my assets. The only consolation for me is that Jesus always spoke up for the downtrodden and that includes people like me who just fucked up. If I work hard and learn from my many mistakes, try my hardest not to repeat them, I will be forgiven by God, but will I forgive myself? That remains to be seen. But I figure that if God can forgive me I should forgive myself — it gives me permission to move on and that’s a good thing.

It makes me feel I might be deserving of love again someday.

There is Something I Can do to Ease my Pain

I have mixed feelings about Christmas being over. I was able to spend four days with my daughter and five days with my brother, his wife, and their one year old son. We drove them to the airport a few hours ago. My mother in tears. It’s clear to see that my brother and his wife are trying to get here as often as they can because of my dad’s health.

He was such an active grandfather with my daughter. He was only about 41 years old when I gave him that title. She is now 38 and he is 80. His newest grandchild is only 14 months old. Dad can barely keep himself steady on his feet, let alone hold a 25 pound baby. He had to sit to hold him. But my god that baby was so good and loving. It was incredible to have a baby in the house again — and he is so loved. His mom and my brother went to great pain and expense (IVF) to bring him into the world.

Mom and I had a tiff on Christmas Eve which is our family’s big day. I tried to get her to talk to me using words instead of sulking off by herself. But she told me I wouldn’t be able to take it. I said, “How do you know, mom? When’s the last time you tried?” Never. That’s when.

We never cleared the air of course, we just ignored the elephant in the room. Later that night she came to me and tried to hug me and wish me a merry Christmas. I was sitting so she was more or less hugging my head. The aversion I feel when she touches me is really, really disturbing. It’s almost a primal feeling of wanting to get away. It baffles me, yet it doesn’t. She never treated me lovingly. My childhood associations with her are horrible.

What a shame. It’s not just her favoritism for males, it’s her dislike of females that is the problem. There’s no fixing our relationship — I know that without a doubt. I feel really, really sorry for her and how miserable she makes herself. What a waste of her life.

STBX called to tell me my bank called him to say there might be illegal activity going on with my checking account. Sure enough, someone has attempted to charge various things to my account about 25 times. Two of them went through for $4.99 each, so it could have been worse. It’s funny considering I have all of $54 in the bank. They’ve cancelled that debit card and now I have to wait for a new one and when it comes I have to remember who to contact for automatic payments, etc. What a pain.

There are bad people in this world.

I went to the 11 pm Christmas Eve service at church. It was a beautiful yet simple service. The church had more candles lit and at the beginning the priest walked down the aisle with this thing in his hand which allowed him to spray droplets of water on the congregation. It’s not holy water, per se, but certainly water that’s been blessed. I love formality and tradition. I read that the water is to remind us of our baptism. I was really glad I went.

Tomorrow is the Saturday breakfast for the homeless and I confirmed with the organizer that I’ll be there. I want to ask the priest and assistant priest how else I can be useful. I’ve noticed in their newsletters that some education classes will be coming up, so I’m eager for those as well. If all goes well I’d like to be confirmed in the Episcopal church in 2015.

I don’t feel I’m giving anyone anything at all by trying to be of service there. I honestly feel that it’s helping only me at this point. It’s keeping me going, giving my life a purpose.

I didn’t think much about STBX this week. Holidays with him were always weird. He doesn’t come from a Western tradition of Christmas so he can’t comprehend the magic of the season at all. When I first met him, if his daughters asked to open their gifts a week before Christmas he’d say yes. It was no use trying to explain to him the excitement of WAITING.

My eBay sales have all but stopped but at least I made it through the most expensive time of year.

My goals now are to return to physical activity, healthier eating, and find a job.

Earlier this week when I allowed myself to wallow for a bit in my misery over the cheating stuff, I realized how I wished I could just pop into church to pray for peace in my head and heart. Then I realize that I can do that if I want to, at least M-F, 9a-5p, and that made me feel better.

When the pain is unbearable there is something I can do to rid myself of it — I can turn to God.

A small part of me wonders what sort of hypocrite I might be — that I will turn my back on this when I am “recovered.” But I’ll be frank, I’ll never really recover from this. I will need the help of God from here on out.

I feel really privileged to have made this realization.

One Week at a Time

In the Episcopal church the reverends are also called “priests” and yesterday I went to the ordination of the new assistant priest at “my” church. I put “my” in quotes because it feels phony to say it since I’m a newbie. I’ve gone about six weeks in a row. Does that make it my church? I don’t think so.

I really do love the Episcopal church service. The service I go to is at 11 and is not that well attended. That’s fine with me because I’m still figuring out which book to use. When to stand, sit, and kneel. One of these days I’ll start attending the 8 a.m. service where they use “thee” and “thy” etc. And incense. The service in the middle is mainly attended by families.

Today the church was decked out for Christmas and they used incense. And other priests and a bishop came from all over Oregon. The new assistant priest is strikingly dignified looking in his priest gear (collar). He’s tall, slim, and quite gay. I love him.

He doesn’t know my name yet, but I’ve chatted very briefly with him twice. Today as I shook his hand after the extremely moving ceremony, I said, “Congratulations. It was such an honor to be here. What a beautiful ceremony.” He shook my hand warmly, he said something cute and witty but I can’t recall it now. Mainly I was trying to convey to him how touched I was by witnessing his ordination. I had tears in my eyes and I wasn’t the only one — it was a powerful thing.

I went upstairs to the dining hall and made sure the dish I had made looked pretty. It did. And several ladies had clucked over it earlier so that made me feel good.

I made these:


From this website. It’s not like I had to cook anything. I have a very large white platter and bought some cute fancy skewers. To my relief no one else made them. I also bought a spendy bottle of balsamic vinegar and wow it was good.

I got into the line to go down the buffet then went to stand by two ladies who were standing at a tall table. Turns out they were priests from another area and soon the little table was filled with people who knew one another. But not me. I know no one.

I heard the lady’s name next to me and so I introduced myself to her because I knew she was in charge of the reception and very active in the church. The few people I introduced myself ask right away, “Which service do you go to?” “Eleven o’clock.” I say.

I said hi to the head priest and picked up a glass of red wine which I only had a couple of sips of. Then I grabbed my platter and walked in the rain to my car. I’m very much alone there. No one is rude to me, but I am only just starting to recognize a couple of faces.

Next week is the pancake breakfast for the homeless again, and I hope I can be given a job to help. I just want to feel useful in some way. The rest will come. I just need out of my own head.

We all need to feel needed.

It’s very difficult to do all this because I can be painfully shy when I don’t know people. I feel self critical because I’m not a social butterfly. But I’m okay taking this slowly. All I know is when I’m sitting, standing, kneeling in that church, I feel peaceful.

In time they’ll get to know me. In time I’ll find my niche there. I’ll just keep making myself useful. It was really lovely to see how many people came to support the new assistant priest. I know he’ll be an incredible asset to the church. I’ve heard he’ll be teaching some education classes so I’m looking forward to that.

Oh, I remember what he said now. It wasn’t cute and witty. He said something about his deceased mother, Mary, who was looking down at his ordination and she was proud of him. Made me tear up again. He’s so likable.

I feel it’s good that he’s relatively new there and I’m brand new there and so if I see him next Saturday I’ll tell him to keep me in mind as he works on new projects for the community.

On another note entirely, while I was making those skewer things my dad held up his iPad and said, “Look, doesn’t she look like the spitting image of her mother?” And he was showing me a new photo of one my sister’s daughters. I said, “Oh my gosh, yes. She’s a beauty.”

My mom walked by and looked at it and said, “She didn’t turn out to be the beauty I expected, though.”

And I’m so tired of these awful remarks she makes about her own flesh and blood. For once I said, “Oh, mom. What a terrible things to say. She’s quite breathtaking especially when she’s all dolled up.”

She was really pissed that I said that and she quickly added, “I didn’t say she wasn’t beautiful.” I said nothing more. I’m glad I called her out on it. She was pouty for the rest of the morning. In a perfect world she would have said, “You’re right, it was rude of me. She’s a lovely girl.” But, aside from my daughter, the first grandkid,  she only likes the males in our family.

Her disgust for the girls is painful and it reminds me often of ugly encounters I had with her as a kid. She made me feel bad about having my period. She made me feel bad when I found God in sixth grade. She tried to make me feel bad about needing a bra and about pretty much everything else.

PTSD much?

I’m going to re-double my efforts to find work right after the first of the year. I feel ready to move out and have a place of my own.

The only bit of real news, and I’m trying not to get too excited about it, is that my sister is finally ready to move to Oregon. She and two daughters and one granddaughter should be here in February. She’s not a great sister at keeping in touch from a distance, but when she’s here we get along fine. My sister is usually overwhelmed because she’s a mom to five kids — all of them out of the house now. So she is usually too absorbed in her own worries to ask about other people. It’s something I’ve accepted about her.

But I hope it happens. I hope she moves here.

On a parting note, I looked back and saw that my first blog post was December 14, 2013 so I passed my one year anniversary without noticing it. This is my 250th post, I think.

In a Holding Pattern

I got $50 from my STBX yesterday. And today I hocked a ring and a pair of earrings for $147. By the end of the day I was broke again but at least I was able to buy the food I promised I’d buy for the company coming in the next few days. It’s still nothing close to what my parents are spending. But I decided I’d rather sell the jewelry than start next month in debt.

I’m irked that of all the family coming, none of them except my own daughter will ask if there’s anything they can bring. And when they’re here, they just sit down and let me and my daughter wait on them. My mom has once again taken on more than she can handle, and by mid day she’ll be crashing and my daughter and I will see it through.

I asked mom to keep it simple, but no. And my god has she been spending. Dad says he doesn’t even ask. It’s not worth it to him. But we’re both shaking our heads. I mean, we dragged out a bunch of pretty Christmas tablecloths and she said she wouldn’t have to buy one, yet she still did. And a table runner. And chair covers. I’m not sure who she’s trying to impress.

My mom literally makes herself sick at the holidays. She begins to fret about them in September. She really does ruin holidays. I’ve often wondered what part of them are fun to her.

I’m eating too much and the weight gain is noticeable. I’m really afraid. I don’t want to put it all back on. I’m just trying not to panic and hope to get serious after company leaves a week from today.

Tomorrow I’m going to a church function from 2-4pm and I’m nervous. I’m making a dish to take for the event afterward. Now I feel stupid. I feel as though I’ll be the only single person in the place. I’m afraid. But I said I’d bring something, so dammit, I will.

I was edgy in the car today. Started to get angry at other drivers. I finally just yelled, “Stop. Stop. Stop.” Then I cried. Then I said The Lord’s Prayer a few times simply because I don’t know what else to do.

Are you there, God. It’s me, the girl you haven’t heard from since she was 12.

I wish so much my STBX felt shame for his actions, but he not only feels no shame, he seems pretty tickled with himself. He’s turning into a caricature and I fucking hate him. I’m so mad at myself for still feeling so wound up.

I pulled the car up to where he was downtown yesterday and unrolled the window. He handed me the money and I drove off. I looked back at him as he put some dark sunglasses on (on a very cloudy day) and I looked at this dumb trendy peacoat he had on with a patch on the shoulder. What is he, steampunk now?

He’s trying so hard to be young, hip, relevant. He has to do those things because he feels so fucking inadequate. But I’m still so filled with shame that he’s living with a 26 year old girl. She moved into my apartment while my belongings were still there and my pillow still warm. What kind of woman does something like that? Why does she think this was a victimless crime? Why did his friends help him to cheat on me? What’s wrong with all these morally deficient people!?

I have these fantasies when I finally get any money I’m able to get off him and I no longer need to pretend to be civil to him that I just let everybody have it. My husband. His woman. His friends who helped. I want to disgrace them, humiliate them, make their shit public. I’m hoping, of course, that when the time comes I won’t care enough to bother. Hoping.

I swear here and now that if he will not put in writing that he’ll leave this town, I will not help him with his daughters’ immigration. I simply can’t get back to a normal life knowing I could run into him and his whore at any time.

I know my language is bad and I’m too intense. I know! I wish so much that I had friends, activities, trips, drives, ANYTHING to do so that I could not be thinking about this humiliation.

I want to get it through my apparently very thick skull: THIS IS HIS HUMILIATION TO BEAR. NOT MINE! He did something shameful. Not me.

But you know, if they don’t feel any shame, if they in fact even feel proud of themselves. What can one do? Nothing, apparently. Can’t untangle that skein.

It’s just so fucked.

I’m so looking forward to three days with my daughter. And really excited to see my brother and his wife and young son but I’ll be honest. I’m ready for the holidays to be over so that I can keep on keeping on with my life. Right now I’m just in a holding pattern.

As crappy as I feel right now, I know that so many people are far worse off. I need to shake it off and do what I need to do.

Do You Know Who You Are at Your Core?

I saw my therapist today and won’t be seeing her again until after the first of the year. I brought her a bottle of semi-nice balsamic vinegar which I thought she might like in lieu of sweets. I’ve never brought a gift to a shrink before, but she’s been a life saver for me and I wanted to thank her.

I talked with her about how one gets to know oneself because I feel I do not know myself at all. I seem to be slowly discovering what I’m about, but naturally I feel that everyone else walking around has a firm grip on who they are except me.

Core values, beliefs, morals, ethics, interests — I’m in the dark about most of that. Since I was 17 I’ve lived with one man after another constantly reshaping myself to fit their lives. I’ve done it for so long that I barely know who I am and what I like.

So it’s coming in fits and spurts to me. I’ve realized that integrity is extremely important to me and that is certainly one area in which my STBX is lacking. He’d never admit it, of course. He thinks there’s nothing wrong with his character, in fact he thinks he’s morally superior to, well, everyone.

I met him today at a notary and we both signed this agreement to share the proceeds of any lawsuit 50/50. It was the first time I’ve seen him in weeks and I’m struck again by how much taller I am than him. We surely must have been an odd looking couple.

It’s cold today and he wore a lightweight blazer all buttoned tight and a pretty blue scarf around his neck. New black leather gloves. New very pointed Euro shoes. I looked at him and actually felt sorry for him. He makes this effort to appear a certain way — image is EVERYTHING to him. But he doesn’t quite pull it off. I felt angry at him today so I said very little. I didn’t want to cause a scene.

As we were leaving he told me his new attorney told him to get a job so he said he was looking for one. I just stared at him and nodded. He can’t get a job. No one will hire him. He will not tarnish his reputation as The Exotic European That No One Can Figure Out Where His Money Comes From.  Yeah, I actually felt sorry for him. In some ways I’m glad he’s oblivious about himself.

I’m eager to do some art but my room is so, so crowded and at this point I can’t see getting to my art supplies until after Christmas. I’ve got some unique ideas I’m eager to try out.

I’m selling stuff on eBay but not enough to really impact my life. Although I did buy a fountain pen for $20 and just sold it for $80, so that’s nice. If I’d have been more patient I might have gotten more.

I am really scrimping because I wanted to give my daughter and my parents $100 each. I know that’s hardly anything, but my parents are spending so much money right now getting ready for company and my daughter will be missing work to come down here for three days. I wish it could be more. Someday it will be more.

This notion I have that everyone except me knows who they are at their core is probably a silly one. If we’re lucky we will continue to discover, change, and grow throughout our lives, right? And I’m certain that if and when I encounter a new man in my life, the alarms will go off if he behaves in ways that I should not ignore. I ignored them with my STBX and won’t do that again.

Do you know who you are at your core? Do you waste any time considering who you are?

Feeling Very Grateful

In the last couple of months I’ve noticed I’ve blogged less and less and have been okay with that. It’s not like I have wisdom to impart or amazing wit to awe anyone with. This blog was for a time, one of the few things I had to keep myself alive. That’s no understatement — it kept me alive.

I began it a little over a year ago and at that time still had some hope that my husband and I might reconcile. I didn’t know there was another woman.

I began it to be able to show others how to rise up after a devastating event and come out the other side a better person. I wrote about what I ate. I wrote about exercise. I wrote about my husband with a lot of spackling.

Mostly, however, I was just in extreme pain dealing with the idea of being alone and broke at 56+ years of age.  These pages are filled with raw pain and raw realizations and are not for the faint hearted.

Occasionally I’d get comments and they meant a lot to me. The World Wide Web is an enormous place and I’m grateful for anyone who managed to find their way here to offer their support, or just to read what I wrote.

In the end I didn’t “show anybody” anything but I do finally grasp that while my pain may seem overwhelming, I can and must hang on. There will be a brighter day if I just hang on.

I know I’ll continue to have setbacks and I’ll also continue to recover and grow. Recovery and growth will trump my setbacks, I can see that now. Even with the most recent setback of finding out more than I wanted to know about the Other Woman. I thought the pain of that was unbearable, yet here I am — I withstood it.

I have reached out and now I have a team of people who honestly care that I survive this. From the Chump Lady website and all the people who comment there, to my doctor, psychiatric nurse practitioner, therapist, family, priest, the place I volunteer at, and anyone who has supported me here on this blog.

I’ve got a long way to go before I consider myself passing as normal but in the meantime I’ve been able to see that I am liked in spite of my oddities. I don’t have friends yet, but am working on it. I feel socially retarded, but I’m working on it. I’m signing up for things at church. I rarely say no when the kids center asks me to do something. I’ve kept myself busy.

The people who are in my life are good people. People I’m honored to be associated with, unlike my husband, who only thinks about what that person can give him or do for him.

I can see a happy future for me that I make up as I go along. Here are some thoughts I’ve had along those lines:

I see a very long dining table, both inside and outside, that seats many, many friends and my dear family for special events or for every day. I see myself welcoming someone new to the table and making sure they feel welcome.

I see myself winking at the new man in my life (no, I haven’t met him yet) as we make a huge batch of spaghetti for our company. I welcome his family and they become my family.

I see us eating popcorn from the same bowl, watching a movie that makes us tear up, our dog between us, our hands touching. Being so grateful to be able to reach over and feel the warmth of someone we love.

I know that both of us will have survived hurt and shame in our lives but we are better people now and trying to make up to those we’ve hurt including the harm we’ve done to ourselves.

When I stumble upon this mystery man someday I think we’ll both know fairly quickly that the person we’ve been waiting for has finally arrived. There will be relief, joy, and gratitude. If we don’t feel those things, then we aren’t well suited. I can wait for that.

But I also see that I am my own person and have a solid foundation and am comfortable in my own skin and with my own company. I will have my own friends. I will have my own spiritual life. I will be creating art. I will run my own business. I will care for my parents. I will help my daughter in any way I can.

If you had asked me a year ago what I wanted in my future I would have said I want a man who will take me traveling to see the world. That would be nice, don’t get me wrong, but what I want most is to nest. To have a sanctuary of my own and be surrounded by love. Anything beyond that will just be icing on the cake.

And by that time my memory of the pain of the last few years will feel a little like it happened to someone else, not me. I will be living in the present, grateful to be alive, and proud that I overcame what I thought was impossible.

Thank you, dear readers, for accompanying me on this journey.




I’m Okay. I’m Changing.

Something’s different about me these days and I’m not sure why. Perhaps it’s just time, finally, for me to start to see my own progress.

Saw my therapist again today and told her that I was not even aware of my own morals and values before, but now that I’m on my own with time to think about things, I have realized how I was nudged away from things that are important to me by my STBX. He gave me a hard time about always wanting to do what is right. He belittled me. He made fun of me. So slowly I began to change but it never did sit well with me.

Now I know why — those things are part of my core. And if I had known myself then as I know myself now, I’d have realized that all that was was manipulation by him and a very red flag.

I am now a changed person. It would not sit well with me now to be told my feelings are wrong or be made fun of for them. I’d notice. I’d speak up.

But there’s also been another realization of equal importance, or perhaps greater. I never thought I’d get to a point in my life where I could say this and mean it: I’m glad to be single right now. I’m glad I’m learning about myself and what I want. I’m glad that I’m becoming comfortable in my own skin. I’m glad the feelings of shame around being single are gone.

I’m finally in no hurry to meet someone. The longer I can go in my quest to become a whole, authentic person, the better. Better for me, for my potential partner, everyone. There is no rush.

Sometimes I still spend a few minutes now and then thinking about a potential partner and what he’ll be like. I can’t visualize him at all but I know some of the qualities I’d like him to have and one of them is that he likes me the way I am and doesn’t expect me to become a different person as my STBX did.

Even now, he’s got this 26 year old girlfriend who goes to the Oregon Country Fair (pot, patchouli, nudity) and has a tattoo on her wrist. He HATES people like that. He HATES tattoos. So no doubt he’s telling her to dress differently and behave differently. I know he’s doing that.

I’m glad to be away from that, not because I don’t want to be told how to dress, but because it’s all inauthentic. It was all about putting on airs and pretending to be something I’m not. He always wanted me to pretend. I never wanted to. Red flag.

In an angry email I said to him the other day that I wanted him to leave this town and never come back here to live and to “take your tattooed hippie whore with you.”

I’m not happy that I sunk that low because that sort of language doesn’t accomplish anything, but on the other hand, I don’t feel that bad about it. I told him he deserved all the shit I could dish out. He didn’t respond. Good.

My therapist told me she can see real signs of progress in me and that I should be proud of that. She said when I first came to her I was simply filled with terror and she’s so right. I told her that I was incredibly grateful for her help and she said it’s been her honor to work with me.

I feel very, very lucky. I think I’m going to be okay.