Today is the day that the divorce of my ex and she-for-whom-he-left-me will be final. I've probably been thinking about it more than I should, but to some degree it feels like it ends a chapter for me, too. It finally brings to an end the saga that was that whole debacle. And this, my friends, is the last blog post about it. I hope.
She and I have reached our own little detente, strangely enough. She apologized to me years ago, and I don't have ill will for her. Besides, there's nothing I could wish for her that's worse than she got from being married to him herself. And she has the added issue of dealing with him regularly, forever, as they have a child to parent.
But him. He's a different case. I truly don't believe that he will ever truly understand that what he did to me (or the woman before me, or the woman after me, or all the women DURING me) was wrong, or inappropriate, or hurtful in any way. When he discovered that I was communicating with his soon-to-be-ex-wife, he was upset and didn't understand why I would talk to her. He thought I was directing my anger "at the wrong person," namely him, and that I should be angry at her, not him. He could not comprehend why he and I couldn't be friends, why I couldn't just remember the "good" times, blah blah blah. He just doesn't have the emotional capacity to really get it. So I'll never get that from him- true understanding or remorse. But I do have some things I didn't before.
My newlywed state, coinciding with the impending divorce of my ex, gave me a lot to think about what it all meant to me now. A new definition for marriage and love. Obviously for me, those words have had wildly varied meanings at different times. With my ex, marriage meant drama and anxiety and fears and walking on eggshells and sacrifice of self (and not in a good way). Things I've learned from my own mistakes, and from Fella himself, and from those of you who have been here with me during it all.
And for learning that, and living it with Fella, I suppose I have my ex to thank.