My 3 ½ years of alimony are over. Am I where I thought I’d be in 3 ½ years? No. But to be fair - did I have a plan of where I was going to be in 3 ½ years? No. I’ve had a lot of ideas. I’ve had a lot of big dreams. But, a plan? Not so much. (I’m pretty sure I need to get one of those. Can you shop for those online?)
On this day, which I shall forever dub as The Day I Became Poor, I don’t have hateful and hurtful things to say to The Ex. Surprisingly, I don’t have feelings of anger or sadness (well, maybe a little sadness about being poor) or victimization. Instead, I feel thankful. So, unlike the many other letters I have wanted to write to The Ex, here is a letter of gratitude:
Dear The Ex,
When you left, a part of me died. But a new part came to life. In a way, I owe a lot of who I am to you. If you hadn't left, I might not have learned what I'm made of. I am one tough ass broad. And I'm resilient. And capable. And crazy and wonderful. I'm like a human burrito - full of good things and bad. And when you take a bite it's damn delicious. Thank you for leaving me so I could discover that I'm delicious!
*Yeah. I said peace out. That's the gangsta part of my burrito. Or, the Napoleon Dynamite's brother part of my burrito. Whatever. Either way - take it.