“I don’t love you.” He said.

Then he said it again. On repeat until I told him to stop.

I got up from the sofa and walked away. We had just moved into our house. Just. Moved. In. Two days later he wrote one note and left it on the table for me to find.

We weren’t close to being perfect picture of a relationship. We had been through the ringer. Death, marriage, moves, jobs and  we had a child.
With one note on the kitchen table, that vanished.

Okay so it wasn’t just one note. That story involves me being the victim and playing that card. That story involves some wrongs. On my part as well, because well, I wasn’t being me.  When I figured out how to be me again, well the words I don’t love you no longer stung because I realized; no, he didn’t love me. He loved the idea of who he thought I was.


Being a one in a world full of twos can be the most overwhelming thing to do. Good thing I was raised by people who taught me better. <wink>  I had a kid to raise remember? I didn’t have time to feel bad. Except some days in the bathroom. Cause that’s where all women go to have a melt down.

You get to see just how pathetic you look and when you look again you get to see just how amazing you are.

It’s amazing the amount of rejection that I see
In my reflection but I can’t get out of the way
I’m lookin’ forward to the girl I wanna be
But regret has got a way of starin’ me right in the face
So I try not to waste too much time at the bathroom sink ~Miranda Lambert

I spent a good long time being one.  I needed to be single. I needed to heal first. I needed to learn to trust. I needed to learn to trust myself. Because I hadn’t been trusting myself for years, the relationship with me needed to be repaired.

I had become so lost I had forgotten who I was. If you had asked me my favorite color, I couldn’t have told you. That people pleasing side in me was strong. The  what if it makes them mad side was strong.

One note on a kitchen table, I had started the road back.

I found out I am pretty damn strong and I am a pretty amazing mom.  I have a tribe of people who cheer for me. I also learned that if people don’t like me, they can get fucked. I spent a lot of years not being liked for being me and I refuse to be around people who want me to be a little less me.

“Do you ever get use to it?” I was asked.
“What? The being single? The walking into a room by yourself?” I replied.
“Yes” She nodded tears in rolling down her cheeks.


The journey to rediscovering you is what makes it easier.

Even though every journey has to be made alone, there are still guide posts and maps. Bathrooms for a girl to wash her face and reapply her lipstick.

It’s okay to sit down along the side of the road on that journey and ask for directions.

By the way, my favorite color is blue and I still like to go to movies alone.


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