As a writer, you know that the best sh** comes from the sh** in your life. I mean that’s just how it is. You can stare at the screen forever and come up with nothing. You delete the first word over and over again. It’s when you take the dare and say “I’m just gonna do it” and you write about something that happened to you and it flows and makes cool shapes like that lava lamp in that guys room you used to make out with…. Ok off topic!
My point is that, I’m going to write about something that this image reminds me of. And while it’s not a huge deal for you, it was to me and it’s even a bit of deal whenever I throw out some awkward personal stuff out there. But, here it goes.
So, if you’ve read my bio or you know anything about me, you know that I am divorced. Divorce sucks. It’s all sweet peaches once you’ve moved on and if you have kids and your ex is a good parent, then you really have it made. I’m lucky like that. My life has greatly improved, but it doesn’t take away from the hell it was when it was happening.
But, back when we were in the throws of separation, there was that moment—that “Oh crap! I just realized that I butt dialed you, talked smack about you to my best friend and you heard the whole damn thing!”
It wasn’t good. Especially because I was in the pathetic desperate phase of, “Please like me again!” I’m pretty sure I didn’t gain points there.
There’s something about panic that doesn’t allow you to do what you can normally do – like hit the end button on your phone. I couldn’t do it. My hands were shaking and I was freaking out—embarrassed to say the least.
Finally I did and my heart slowed the tiniest bit. And then I got that ever so awful return text message… “You know just accidentally called me and I heard everything you said.”