This is the day that I married B’s Daddy. Way back in 1996. I don’t think I regret that. Not exactly. Except that I could have gotten this amazing little girl through a one night stand with him and spared myself all these years of rebuilding, healing and then regressing, only to rebuild again. Permanent healing? Does that exist? I’m guessing not. It would have been our 12 year anniversary. And it’s…not. Every year this day is remotely painful, no matter how fabulous my life is at that moment. It still feels like exactly what it is-a failure.
I’m not always as positive as some of you think…lately I’ve been a little more down and actually missing having my own home and my single mama days. I like being alone a little more than I am, and not having anyone to “answer” to. The new marriage still feels so, well, “new”. Even though it’s to someone I’ve known for a long time. I’ve never lived with anyone other than my ex-husband and that, well, it’s that part that takes getting used to. It’s not just a new husband, it’s a stepson too. Am I really cut out for this? Stepson comes home today, until next Sunday, then he’ll go to his non-custodial mom again for a week. It’s been very quiet this summer, with him visiting his mom so frequently. Wondering how we’ll get used to it all again once school begins. He’s a much, much different type of person than the rest of us.
Time to get moving and get some planning done for the new school year. I’m hitting paranoia about the new job and the first day of school in front of a pile of high school kids, trying to teach them some subjects they don’t really want to partake in (Chemistry/Physics). Thanks for listening.