As I read This Article in the L.A. Times this morning I remembered how physically debilitated I felt in the months after Mr. Ex left. The pain in my heart was as real as a migraine or the broken fingers I suffered years ago after catching them in a car door.
The intense legal wrangling has made me feel awful lately. This morning I fought it as if I were coming down with the flu. Jazzercise, then a walk. I took time to notice the little finches in a tree near the post office, their yellow feathers the same yellow as the tree's blossoms. I ate healthily today, dosing myself with squares of chocolate between the greens and veggies and yogurt. I drank water as though it might wash all of these feelings out of me. I took a hot bath and soaked while I mentally worked through an essay I'm writing. I read while I rested in bed and took two rounds of Advil for all the achiness I'm feeling. I prepped for the workshop I'm going to teach on Thursday, all the while trying to ignore Mr. Ex's characterization of me as "unemployed" in his response to my motion for attorney's fees.
Still, I'm going to bed early and I'm not taking the bottle of premixed margaritas upstairs with me. Only water.
2 comments:
You are so good to do these things for yourself, although I'm sad that your heart is broken. I'd like to quote that something or other thing about what happens to a broken heart, but I'm not sure I believe in that cliche, anyway. I send you love and hugs and solidarity -- lots and lots.
You were "employed" long enough to put him through College and give him children, and house and board, and love and understanding and comfort and succor. You were "employed" long enough without a check after 30 years of devotion as repayment for indifference and lies. Let's mend your heart. I am not sure how but you are so full of life and wonderful words and have so much to share that there ought to be a way. If sending you friendship from here can be a little band-aid you can count on it. To cover more than your heart.
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