I haven’t had a conversation with my ex wife in over a year, barring one short exchange on what would have been our second wedding anniversary last August.
Cutting off contact was definitely the way to go for me. It’s the way I’ve always had to do things to heal. Talking with exes has always ripped the scab off my wounds, exposing the tender pink flesh underneath.
But, of course, every once in a while, I get curious. I think that maybe I would like to check in on her life.
I thought maybe this January I wanted to wish her a happy 40th birthday.
I thought maybe I’d like to tell her that I’ve seen her posts on Instagram about her girlfriend of over a year and how they seem happy living in our old apartment, and our “daughter” DoomKitty seems to like her new gal. That her new girlfriend is pretty and seems nice. That I’m glad she has found someone.
I thought maybe I would tell her about my boyfriend and how I’m in a really wonderful, comfortable, stable, healthy relationship. How I’m really happy.
I thought maybe I’d ask how her job is going, and what she does nowadays to occupy her time.
I thought maybe I’d tell her about my job and my coworkers and show her photos of the things I’ve made recently that I’m most proud of.
I thought maybe I’d tell her about how my thoughts about my future and who I am as a person have been in flux lately, and this has been a fascinating year of self discovery.
I thought maybe I’d ask about what sort of crazy things our landlord has done recently. If he ever changed the way the doors locked so they could be opened without a key from the inside.
I thought I’d tell her about what an amazing cat Winchester “Chet” the Dumpstercat has become, and how grateful I am that I “got” him in the divorce. We’re perfect for each other, even though we were nearly strangers when we first embarked across the country together towards our new life.
I thought I’d tell her that I’ve kept off the 40+ pounds I lost since we split up, and how I’m actually venturing into the world of cooking (vegan stuff too!)
I thought I’d tell her that I’ve been keeping on top of my mental health and feel like I should.
And that I’m sorry that I went so long without keeping that in check when we were together.
There are a great many things that I think about telling her all the time, and yet I don’t.
The thought of reconnecting makes me feel ill. Like I know that it isn’t a good idea and would only stir up things that should remain buried.
I am doing so well nowadays, and I strongly believe that a lot of that is because of this severed contact.
Every once in a while, when I venture into the sphere of her publicly viewable social media, I marvel at how much of a stranger she is. How our four year relationship and one year of marriage seems like a dream.
It’s quite a mindfuck.
I acknowledge these thoughts and feelings and questions and hypothetical conversations, and then I close the browser on them. For another month or two.
And then, once again, I move on.
It’s better this way.