EVEN JOY

I realized today that my Ex-Husband’s new girlfriend will be attending all the social events I attended for the past five years. Hanging out with all of the people that I thought for so long were my friends, but who have gone radio silent since the separation. Not one. Not one. Has reached out.

But then again.

Neither have I.

I asked him to let me know when he is with “her” so I would know to give him space.

I feel so pathetic.

What do I care?

Why do I care?

I don’t know.

He never answered that text.

Instead, after my four-year-old daughter puked up blueberries all over my bed and me, and I tried to text him about it, wondering if she should stay home from school tomorrow, and if so, who would stay home with her, he never replied.

And I knew.

He was with her.

And we were invisible to him.

 

Feel the fucking feelings and move on, I say.

I got into bed, on the wet side, and tried reading some Adyashanti. That, unfortunately, does not put me to sleep but awakens my brain with so many radical wonderful notions of existence and non-duality.

Debated taking my last half of a Klonopin.

But then I remembered, Brene Brown’s words:

We don’t get to choose what we “take the edge off of” we numb it all. Even joy.

Even joy.

 

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