I found it completely peculiar that I was more bothered by HIM having a girlfriend already then the extra “marital” shenanigans. Maybe because I am used to being cheated on and know how that feels? Maybe because of the circumstance of how quickly he went from “please come home I can’t live without you” to “Who are you?” How can someone do that? Just switch their feelings from one person to the other? I mean, I get how you transfer feelings and when things start to go bad you seem to get over them a little every day, but two months after throwing out your live in girlfriend and her kids you are already having another woman and her kids over? Seemed a bit rash. Seemed not like something he would do. But then again, I never really knew him. Because if he could do what he did to me…..I wonder…..Who was I replacing when I showed up? I mean this must be his modus operandi right? He is with someone, they don’t work out so he lines up a next as a replacement. So he’s in the replacement parts business, except he doesn’t work on intangibles, but with people. He’s a people person you would say. Ugh, it was killing me. So here’s where all the gung-ho work that I wanted to do on myself begins to melt away and I’m back to hurt feelings. I wanted to hate him. I couldn’t do that because I was still in shock. I am not a doctor as we’ve discussed many times, but if I was, I would say that I, in fact, was suffering from Post Traumatic Stress disorder. I mean, really. After the six months I had? You would have to be Dr. Quackenbush not to see that!
Every day was a mix of emotions. I was elated that my daughter was heeling and recovering well, I was thrilled that I could lay my head on MY bed every night, I was sad by what my kids and I went through, I was angry at how things went down, I was thankful for my friends and family. I was exhausted because I’d be feeling all of that within any given moment all at the same time. I was finding it really hard to wrap my head around the fact that while I was busy putting the pieces of my broken life together, he was busy getting a new girlfriend. I mean, he wasn’t mourning me or us as a family. He didn’t take a second to better himself or give himself time to figure out what he wanted. He jumped, he’s a jumper. Like that move that can jump through time, except he just jumps from woman to woman. I was spending so much time, too much time thinking about what he was doing. As I sat on my hand me down couch, I would stalk him on social media. I admit it. I was THAT girl. Pathetic looking for pics of him or his girlfriend online. Trying desperately to get a glimpse of what I was replaced by and who. Was she prettier than me? Answer: I didn’t think so, but she was attractive. Was she tall and thin like me? Answer: No one right now was as thin as me, so good, she looked like she didn’t skip a meal. Was she as nice as me? Answer: I had no idea, I’m sure she was lovely. Was she everything I wasn’t? Answer: What wasn’t I?
I was still a good person, I was still me, although different, yet kind of the same. If that males any sense. I wasn’t the woman he fell in love with if we want to call it that. I would never be that woman again. Too much had happened to me, too much had changed my inner fiber. The thing I’m sure of, certain of that he wasn’t banking on? Was that I would be better than I was. A better woman all around. This I was almost adamantly sure of. I may be sulking on my hand me down couch now, in my less than stellar apartment, in my now to big for me clothes, but I was sure that I was going to make it. I would make it to the other side. How was I sure? Same way I always knew. Because I was still standing. I was still alive. I was still moving forward. Even if some days felt like they were two steps back. What’s the saying? What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger? At this point I should be able to bench press an Ox.