Before I talk about anything else, there's something I need to get off my chest.
An Open Letter to Last Year's Husband:
In the days leading up to Christmas, it occurred to me that last year at this time, you were having an affair. Whether or not anything "happened" while you shared a bed with her on that business trip is not the point. The fact that you had done it and kept it a secret from me is enough. The fact that you patted me on the back making pity noises when I admitted, repeatedly, that I couldn't shake my paranoia, is disgusting. The fact that you denied it to my face is incredibly disgusting. You were looking forward to seeing her again. You were excited about a potential relationship with her. Even the sexual energy that you brought to bed with me at the time, I now understand, was full of the tension building between you and her, and that makes me downright sick. The fact that I'm in a much better place now does not absolve you. The words "I'm sorry" do not absolve you. Even my forgiveness, which I realize now I offered artificially (wishfully) and prematurely, does not absolve you. I'm still pissed. I'm still hurt. And as much as I'd like to be above this kind of emotion, I sort of hate you.
Also, make no mistake about it, I divorced you because of your adultery. This was not a benevolent decision made together based on mutual drifting apart. This was a decision forced upon me by your unwillingness to choose between me and your mistress. Never once did you say you wanted to do the work to repair our marriage. Never once did you say you would choose me over her. If my choice was to either except that or kick you out, as far as I'm concerned, I had no choice. In fact, when it came right down to it, you chose her over me. I was not part of the decision at all. You left me for another woman, simple as that. Let me be very clear: I only agreed to call it "irreconcilable differences" so that I could get divorced from you as quickly and cheaply as possible. If I could do it over, I would, because I realize now that forcing you to face facts would have been worth every minute and every penny. You got off easy and you still make me sick.
Okay, dear readers, now that I have that out of my system, I can tell you about the part of my holidays that did not involve nauseating flashbacks to last year:
To make a long story short, we spent Christmas with my family and it was lovely, hanging out at my brother's house twenty minutes up the road, and at our smaller place with various configurations of family members before and after the big day.
With B~ tucked away at his mother's, J~ and I went to New York for New Year's weekend, making good time from our place in rural CT to my dad's in the city Friday evening, sleeping comfortably on an air mattress on the living room floor. We walked all day for two days in lower Manhattan, back and forth over the Brooklyn Bridge, from Battery Park City through Chinatown and Little Italy, the East Village, the Garment District, galleries in Chelsea, all the way up to Columbus Circle. On Saturday, we ate a late lunch at Spice Market, and on Sunday, brunch at Prune. We hit the MoMA close enough to closing to get in for free but not too close to miss the Brice Marden retrospective. As for New Year's Eve, we skipped Time Square hoopla in favor of the pleasantly crowded dance floor at Irving Plaza and our new favorite band, Brazilian Girls. Balloons and confetti fell on our heads at midnight, and we kissed and danced and proclaimed this, such a difficult year, the best of our lives.
We didn't get our wish for a positive pregnancy test on Christmas day, but we're both working on improving our general and reproductive health, and, as always, continuing to enjoy the effort. Who knows what 2007 will bring. I have no doubt, at least, that the reflection on the previous year's holiday season will be much more favorable.