Starting over is scary and exciting, pregnant with possibility and fraught with risk. I’m glad I moved so much growing up. By the time I was a preteen I knew how to get the most out of a fresh start. But it’s scary and I’m scared.
I don’t miss him. Neither does my son. That part surprises me. I had expected both of us to be sadder about this than we have been. It’s been hard, but because of how petty my ex was during the breakup and after, not because breaking up or leaving was the wrong thing to do.
I’m still having an enormously difficult time getting my thoughts and feelings into coherent sentences and I’m sorry my writing is taking a decline while I figure things out in my own head. Know that I’m not abandoning this blog.