I have been divorced since I was 37, and I’m 44 now. He was remarried within a year; my profoundly narcissistic ex-husband…for the first 7 years I did whatever I could to spare the kids any further discord so I was very AMENABLE. Even though he was giving them a false narrative-him as the protective parent, me as the bum (long story, in a nutshell, he had left me so emotionally battered and skittish from years of being the object of his rage he was able to completely destroy me and my reputation), I didn’t challenge him.

But recently, I got mad. Mad that he took my last best years…the years without the ache of age in my bones. The years before the belly fat got stubborn. I have have not desired the company of a man in I don’t know how long. I’m that and also afraid of dying alone.

I’m pissed they bought a beautiful home together and I’m stuck raising my kids in 775 square feet where I refuse to hang pictures on the walls because I’ll just have to take them down if I do.

You give me hope, though. You are right. Being a single mom has shown me strength I didn’t think I possessed. And finally, after following some man or another since I was 14, I have learned to be comfortable in a room alone with me.

There is a lot to be said for that.

I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I want it to be spelled right and punctuated correctly. I guess that’s something.

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