I thought I would save grocery shopping for tomorrow to give me something to do, but I realized I would have another fruit panic before then, so I headed to Winco.
Near the end I started scoping for good soda deals. Diet Coke was not a deal, so I drove my cart to the end of the aisle to check out the Diet Pepsi. Someone's cart was in the way. I looked up to see... the couples counselor Chris and I went to. I bolted.
This woman had been so kind to us both- we never felt excluded or like she was taking sides. I adored her. There were so many things she was right about. I just couldn't imagine telling her what happened.
Not that she'd ask, I'm sure. She would not be like that lady who turned out to be nothing like Patch Adams. I bet they go through training not to mention the significant other unless they are brought up. I couldn't think of all that, though. All I could do was turn and drive my cart away fast enough without attracting attention. I bought my groceries and left.
In the car, I had that imaginary conversation where I told her what happened. Or at least, what I think happened. How would I possibly summarize that in a grocery store? I feel like it deserves more than a shaking head or the "It's done" thing I keep saying. It's not done. It's still here because I keep having these moments where I look around and wonder what the hell is happening. "But..." people tell me... Yes, yes, wonderful things are coming, I'll be better off, all the things I know and don't care about. I know the sun will shine. I don't need the "but," just acknowledge that it's raining. I'm learning that people lose all empathy once they find out he cheated and did other horrible things, as if that should negate all love and leftover feelings. Thank you for declaring him a worthless dirtbag; I disagree. You may also deem me insane and emotionally retarded and I will try to retain composure and remind you that I loved him and his son. I still do and always will. Sorry. Did I deserve that treatment? No.
Seeing our counselor reminded me of the day in her office in 2010. School had already started before I was informed that I would not be receiving financial aid that semester. We were back in a dark apartment, going to the laundromat, hosting yet another non-paying roommate. Chris said he didn't want to be together anymore. He drove us home and I took the dogs for a walk. It was a hot day and we rested in the grass. There was another dog and Jasmine yanked and broke my hand. I learned to write left-handed and fought for B's; Chris said he wanted to stay together, and not just to help me. In the spring he said he wanted to marry me. Our counselor told us nothing would break up a relationship like planning a wedding. Then, as one of her "success stories," she cut us loose.
That must be a depressing job.
My plan for tonight was to read, write, watch a Frasier episode and laugh, do a puzzle and write letters, take a bath, eat a salad, indulge a little. Now it's 8 and I'm on my second beer and I'm thinking that tomorrow can be most of that. Tonight, I am not match for the weight that pulls me to bed and rest. I think, "Did I really just get here yesterday?" I came home and was so pleasantly surprised by how clean and spare my apartment was. It has been a long, rough ride, and if I am going to make it through, I'm going to need some rest.
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