No regrets. I choose what I will do instead of letting things happen to me and creating a life of drift. But I will regret, at this point in my life, if I don’t choose to do something other than continue to be mistreated. I am a loveable, capable, wonderful woman who deserves to be loved, respected and treated like the treasure that she is by her spouse. That ain’t happening.
I said, “I came up with a pen name and created a blog and I’m going to write. I will be free to write whatever I want under my new name.” He was agreeable to this.
Later I said, “Don’t tell anyone about my pen name. Only you know.”
He said, “I really could care less.”
Perhaps he meant well, but when you share something really close to you with one of two people in the world, the other being your therapist, and it’s something that means a great deal to you because being a writer is what you ARE and it’s been a long hard road and part of growing, healing and making progress in this relationship and as a human being was to pursue being who you are independent of wife and mother…and he says, “I really don’t care,” well, a sleepless night and 570 calories later, you think, “Fuck you,” and you determine to go on without his support because who needs support like that anyway? Amiright? So called “best friend.”
I won’t be putting his name in my dedication. And I am sure he could really care less about it, too.
It hurts, but he isn’t God, nor is he truly my best friend. Something we are working on – our friendship. In his colloquialism (back at him), “Sucks boo to you!”
No regrets for me and I am not planning on starting any now.