After several years of marriage, a quick question to my then-husband resulted in the snapped answer, "I don't care!" And with that, our marriage dissolved on the floor beneath me. I leaned heavily against the doorjam, sobbing, while he told me he didn't love me anymore.
For three days, I did nothing but cry. I paid a little visit to the psych ward. There were drugs. I went through the motions like maybe I dreamed that ugly scene.
Shortly after, post-therapy, he told me that if I didn't move out, he might kill himself.
I started trying to get my shit together. I went job hunting, flitting through a few companies before landing at Lucy just as I was moving into my new apartment with my awesome roommate. That helped me feel like I was getting my own shit together. I began dating David, a good man, who can deal with The Crazy.
After a bit of time with Lucy, an old manager at Ann Taylor gave me a call, and after about a month I started at Old Navy. I took the logistics position because it's in the morning, and I get more afternoon, evening time with my kid. I mostly like the job, though I am tired all the time.
What I really like about the job is that...it's mine. I did it. I make enough money to not have to ask my ex for help. I am taking care of myself, when I was so very scared that I would be scared and confused and alone and unstable...things were fine. And I am fine.
Still in one piece, as Jason reminds me. Not shattered.