This might be the first holiday season since the divorce that I feel relatively normal and excited about entertaining. My contact with Mr. N/A is slim to none, and that just feels terrific.
I feel my anger towards him lifting as my life continues to evolve and grow and not involve him so much. Our story has reached a new chapter in my book, and I think I’ll call it “Apathy.” I just really don’t care anymore. Thank god, I just don’t care.
He wasn’t a good husband, our marriage was a disaster, and he’s not nice or trustworthy. So fucking what?
I don’t care. He’s not my problem now.
Ah… blessed detachment.
The Universe continues to shower me with gifts during this recent restoration period. My soul is filled up – grateful beyond all previous hopes and expectations. The boundaries in my mind regarding happiness are being pushed and stretched and broken. No fairy tale ever described this kind of bliss. I’m waking up from a long slumber, with a kiss from a prince on a bridge in the soft moonlight.
I can’t wait to see what’s next.