It's too damned early to be dealing with this s***...

I opened FaceBook to find a message from my drug addict ex-husband who disappeared off the face of the planet 5 years ago this month. I hadn't noticed the passing of the anniversary until today when I opened my messages.

He says he's so so so sorry... he says he misses me... he says he heard I'd remarried, and he's happy for me but sad and yadda yadda. He and his family want me to come to Montreal for the holidays. Well yippee.

So, I'm sitting there crying and clutching my gut and remembering these are the people who blamed me for his addiction to crack or meth or whatever the **** he was smoking in the garage (I'm told the glass tube I found in the bottom of the tool box after he left the country this last time was a crack pipe... who knew?) and paid for his plane tickets every time he decided to skip out in the middle of the night to fly away home. Seriously, I'd freakin' wake up to an emptied closet and have to get a ride to the airport to retrieve my car from the parking lot and then deal with the emotional turmoil of knowing he'd eventually turn on the charm and beg to come home again and I'D LET HIM COME BACK. I swear I dunno if it's a French thing or what but those six years of so-called "marriage" about did me in emotionally and physically and spiritually. I've had a lot of counseling and support meetings since and feeling much, much better. Still... The last time he took off I finally got the courage and filed for divorce, pulled the plug on the insanity that only those with an active addict in their lives can comprehend.

I deleted the message. I blocked the sender. I called a friend. I talked about it with my husband. I wandered to the kitchen...

I ate some cottage cheese for breakfast. I just polished off a cup of low-carb ice cream with walnuts knowing full well what a cup of that stuff will do to my digestion. I'm gonna be more windy than Chicago. My next bite was not going to be a good one. I stood glued to the kitchen counter slicing vegetables like a mad woman with the good intention of creating a pot of chili con carne. Decided I better blog this out before I chop something off.

Ok so I'm putting away the nuts and getting my glass filled with water and going to spend some quiet time. My heart hurts. Just something about the fear of all that chaos and drama and absolute absurdity coming back into my fairly calm and peaceful life... and how I just sat there frozen solid staring at the screen and sobbing then realized I had the power to click it away. Except it's still in my head.