This post is probably gonna suck because I honestly don't have very much to say right now.
I mean there are plenty of words to be said, but this is probably not exactly the right venue to air all of my dirty laundry and guilt and blame and since at some point in my life I may want to get laid again (you know, by the Hubs or any other man that I may find interesting at some point in my future), I am going to keep my mouth shut about a whole lot of the things that have been rumbling around in my mind the last few days.
Which leaves me with a whole lot of nothing much else.
I have been trying to figure out who I become in this new normal. This After.
I was 17 years old when he and I met (for those of you keeping track, that make me 35. Or, if you are my daughter, "REALLY, REALLY old") so excuse me for wondering where exactly this all leaves me. I mean, I didn't even know who I was when we met (who really does at 17?) and now here I am wondering if I should go back to my maiden name (probably not, by the way, because as unsure of who I am right now, I know that I am definitely NOT that girl) or if I just make up a WHOLE new name because maybe I have been Heather for long enough and I could give myself a super cool name and maybe even get a nickname in the process because the only nickname I have ever had was Heifer and I am not super keen on that one although there are still people that call me that shit.
And then there is the whole quagmire of who is going to pay for this to all be really over, because I think it should happen pretty quick just so that there can be clear boundaries and I don't get all weak and nostalgic and stupid and let him come back home so that he can turn around and do the same things over and over again because this is what he does and I don't deserve that shit anymore because I am an adult and a F**ing grown-up and a momma. I don't want the Supergirl to ever have to go through this again either because this is the second time in her 4 year life where this has happened and I am ALWAYS the one that has to clean up the f**ing mess. So who should pay, the one that asked him to leave or the one that caused the mess in the first place? (and, if you are still keeping track of things like that, no, he does not have a job) I guess that means that I should have to pay...
Finally, in completely random news, I think I can count the amount of time that I have actually slept in the last few days on my hands, I am existing solely on caffeine and nicotine (DO NOT JUDGE ME RIGHT NOW), and accidentally ripped my entire middle finger nail off of my hand trying to pick up a chair that Supergirl had tipped over. I also secured some vacation time, because I need to get out of this blooming town and not see his face everyday.
Hopefully, once I have effectively put about 800 miles between us, I can get some rest...
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