No Pity Party Here

Some people just want to see the world burn. Some just want to get the invite to your Pity Party. Well, there’s no pity party here.

When I was married, I put on a fake face to the outside world. There were a select few (they know who they are) who really knew what was the real state of my marriage,the drama that was my life as a reluctant stepmother to his son and unsupported real mom to my children.

It was bad enough my mother sorta knew what my life was like, but hers wasn’t a judgment free zone, so I learned to keep all but the most inane information from her, to open up truly to my mom was to invite trouble.

Therefore, I was burdened alone because of the embarrassment and shame I felt that I was in the relationship equivalent of a weepy Lifetime Movie.

The act of leaving him, the choice to divorce him, was an act of empowerment.

When the time came that I was finally free from the clutches of my ex, safe as only 1500 miles between us can make me feel, I finally began to open up.

I want to shout it from the rooftops! I want to dance and break out in song! I feel happy, I think I look happy. So why does everyone want to console me when they find out I just got divorced? I’m not sad!

Quit saying “I’m sorry”… Why are you sorry?

The only person I want to hear tell me they are sorry is my ex-husband and he never will. So the rest of humanity can stuff it as far as I am concerned.

I am pretty sure the prisoner out on parole doesn’t get told “I’m sorry” when people find out they have just been released from incarceration. They want to throw a party, pop a keg and crank up the noise! I want to throw a party! I want a ticker tape parade!

Quit drowning me in your pity party, people! I don’t have squat to be sorry about.