I’ve been off writing since last April.
I simply shut down to writing. I watched all sorts of TV, the shows I didn’t have time to watch when the kids were young and I was carting them around. House, for one. I knew that Hugh Laurie was a genius, but really, that is one amazing story.
I’m back from a nice trip to NYC to see my brother and his family, my daughters who both came out as well, and unfortunately, my ex. His company moved him to New Jersey fall of last year. I was happy he left my environs.
He’s not a bad guy, I just don’t want to see him.
He had the courtesy to only come to drop off one of the girls, leave, and then return only for Christmas eve, Christmas, and the day after. I guess he stayed after I left, which is fine, because I was gone. What was I to do? It’s my brother’s house, and he’s my nephew’s uncle, the girls’ father.
I’m sure I have some attachment problem that makes it impossible for me to be around him.
Thank goodness the divorce came after the girls were nearly grown. I would have been a terrible coparent, not because I wouldn’t cooperate, but I would have been frozen. There’s some shut down that occurs when I’m left, some unwillingness to revisit.
If you’re going, then go. I don’t need to hear from you. I need to move on.
I can’t tell you if it’s right or wrong, doubtfully either. I will say I have more compassion for the mysterious behaviors of those persons who leave the room when they hear the song that reminds them of their lost love, those service people who won’t discuss the war, those children who won’t go into certain rooms.
Yes, it’s a choice to find joy, and I have had a lot of enjoyable experiences since April- Fleetwood Mac with a friend, a trip to Washington, DC, deepening relationships at my work. I laugh, I notice the beauty, I see the compassion.
After the year’s anniversary, I still feel the trauma.