Different Parts

Part of me wants to gloat. I've overcome my obstacles and rebuilt my life. Now I have the newborn daughter with the new husband.

Part of me isn't so mean. Plus, I can't really gloat anyway because this weekend has been challenging with OH. Maybe not challenging but at least disappointing and confusing.

I've been a really good friend today, to people that haven't necessarily deserved it.

I wish in my time of need that someone had come to see if I was okay, hadn't just turned up for the gossip or to smugly pass judgement. I offered the old-best-friend a weekend break at mine. To escape our hometown. For her to bring her three children to stay with my family, throwing the kids in one room for a fun-filled, popcorn-filled evening, whilst we drink enough to feel confident that our version of Poker Face on SingStar is better than Lady GaGa.

No questions would be asked about the state of her marriage or her plans for the future. She wouldn't have to feel embarrassed or failing. She could just drink some more, play on the giant garden trampoline with me and talk about the weather.

Part of me really feels sorry for her as she loves her horrid husband completely. Part of me thinks it's for the best and that she deserves better.

Feeling sad, I drove home along the same route that used to give me butterflies. The journey to his house all that time ago. The chevrons on the motorway still start the swirling feeling. By the time I saw the green lit hotel sign, shining next to the motorway, I knew I was nearly with him.
Tonight I wanted to walk straight into his arms, feeling lucky that I am not in the same position as my friends. But he spoke too soon and said the wrong thing.

Part of me hopes she does come to spend time with us.

Part of me thinks it's as much for my sake as hers.