Seven years ago, on Thanksgiving day, my husband of one year and two months said to me, "I don't love you anymore."
I was pregnant. With twins.
Within another few days he informed me that he wanted a divorce and would be leaving me immediately upon the birth of the children. He tried to get a divorce then, but because of some state law you can't get a divorce if you are pregnant.
He made my life a living hell for quite some time after that. Part of it was my fault, because I believed in marriage and marriage vows and really wanted to make it work.
It was not meant to be.
For the past several years I have always felt a sick sense of dread as the holiday season approaches. Even though my life has improved dramatically, I still couldn't shake the sense of sadness that I felt at this time that should be the happiest.
So this year, I've decided I'm having a nice Thanksgiving. And a nice Christmas too.
I have a beautiful husband and two beautiful children. I have a good job and a nice home. I am graduating from college in like, 20 minutes. (Okay not really, but in a few weeks) I have potential, I have goals, and I have dreams.
Not to mention I'm pretty and funny and smart and my blog rocks.
My ex-husband? Lives with his mom. LIVES WITH HIS MOM. The woman that was SO much better than me that he couldn't wait to be with (who was, in reality, a trashy whore with a mullet and an inner thigh tattoo)? Ran off with some guy from South Carolina. And my ex-husband is going bald and NOT in an attractive way.
So yeah. Bite me you jerk. You have no control over my emotions anymore or ever, ever again.