The Joy of Age

I’m away from home. I’m on a business trip. I’m in a foreign country. I have a slight expense account.

15 years ago this would have been the perfect recipe for wildness and debauchery. I would have pushed it to the limit. Drank too much. Partied. Done things I would have regretted and not been proud of the next day. I would have chalked it all up to doing what the hell I wanted to do, because no one else mattered in my life. My husband, at the time, would have been irrelevant. His actions; drinking, sloth, self-involvement…would have been justifiable cause for me to act out in self-destructive behaviour. His treatment of me, would have been my excuse to surreptitiously treat him badly. I had no guilt, no remorse. He deserved anything I did.

I do regret the things I did. Not because I hurt my ex-husband, but because I hurt myself. I disrespected myself. I did not give myself any value.

Perhaps I still need to grow into having feelings of remorse for how I betrayed my ex-husband. Perhaps one day I’ll have those thoughts. I’m still too angry at him though. I still find myself wishing him ill. I’m not longer going to berate myself for those thoughts. I’m going to accept them and do my best towards working my way to forgiving him for the hurt he caused me and my children, and in turn, forgiving myself for all the horrible things I did.

Today, I sit in this hotel room. The tv is tuned to the BBC. I’m trying to download Pixar’s “Brave”. I have room service ordered. I’m having a glass of wine. There’s a warm bubble bath in my future, and I expect to be asleep by 9:30pm after I’ve had the chance to speak to the love of my life for a few minutes.

Times have changed. I have changed. I love someone so much that this is what I’m happy with. I can’t wait to be back home, and in his arms. In his company.

Yeah, times have changed.

I like who I am now, a whole lot more than I liked who I was then.



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