31 Days from when?

Normally I don’t take notice of the shaggy haired mailman that brings the abundance of shitty junk mail that floods my mail box, but for some unexplained reason today I found myself reaching in that creaky box for what was inside. A sharp pain in my gut like a psychic slap to the face compelled me to check it which is something I haven’t done in months. There was never a need to since whatever worth acknowledging was sent to me electronically such as bills and statements. I actually found myself avoiding the mail box for fear of getting furious because some place I humored years ago would still send me their shitty surveys even though I’ve reamed out every representative within their customer service department. The envelope was thick and there was my address written in that basic printing that never advanced past a grade school level, a vaguely familiar printing that I immediately recognized. I knew, I just knew what this was and for a brief moment I was unsure of my feelings. Should I be upset? Finality. Just a short time ago I would have at least cried a little but surprisingly I was reacting to these divorce papers as I would have one of those annoying surveys or maybe even less. It’s been over for years yet I sit here not knowing how to react. Would it be so wrong if I didn’t feel anything at all? Immediately I went to an extreme since that’s always been my schtick over the years, testing a situation by throwing it into the most extreme emotion I can muster. I thought to myself “What if this was a notice that he’s dead? Would that bring any unresolved feelings to the surface? Would I grieve, would I cry?" The answer was raw and matter of fact. I would’nt feel a fucking thing! How could that be? Is that what moving on is? What the X does, is or has, no longer affects me in an emotional way? It’s a strange feeling really. This person whom I once would take a bullet for, whom I’d dragged myself through the mud for, put my body through hell and back to have his children for and which I still pay for to this day from residual sicknesses that inevitably surfaced, now he means less to me than ummm my mechanic! Well fuck, it’s hard to find a

mechanic that doesn’t tack on a little extra here and there so ease up on the judging ok! Sure I’m not the softest gal but I’m no emotional cripple, I appreciate my mechanic and tell him regularly. So here I am typing this shit out again hoping to alleviate this icky feeling that I wasn’t prepared for, the feeling of not feeling anything at all. Bizarre huh? I’m complaining and confused because I don’t really feel much at all. I genuinely don’t care and I’m wondering if I should be worried about this aloof reaction. What if this new place I’m in is too hard and cold, even for me? I know I’m definitely not the poster child for ‘super affection gal’ and hugging me can sometimes seem like a eunuch getting an intense lap grinding from Scarlett Johansson but I can assure you, in my head I’m hugging you back big time. :P

Ah fuck! It may have something to do with not being hugged as a child or that my dad who I loved very much, may he rest in peace, was the all powerful Supreme Dick of the land of Dickdom, but I try not to focus on that since it sounds incredibly weak and that doesn’t support the bad-ass, unshakable persona I like to uphold. ;) I suppose I am my father, but that’s as far as that goes because, well I’ve been through over a decade of serious therapy and frankly I’m just tired of beating this dead horse. Makes me feel I at least owe that horses loved ones something of an apology for mutilating their poor majestic Black Beauty. I too struggle with acceptance so please forgive my stubbornness. If it’s any consolation, my foot is fucking killing me and I'm pretty nauseated from the stench of rotten meat.

So..... yeah, ummm, well..... that’s that I guess. Tuck those papers into the overflowing ‘to be filed’ environmentally conscious canvas bag that’s behind my washroom door and be done with it. There's no cliche papers that need to be signed which is totally cool with me since the effort it took to open the envelope was more than I'd like to invest in this painful memory. No need to analyze this, it’s already taken up a better part of my morning and I really can’t squeeze anymore compelling or

philosophical shit from it and even if I could, I have more interesting useless information to ponder and share in my own spastic, childish way. Oh yeah, one more thing I found a little amusing. The divorce document says that in 31 days I can send them $19 bucks and receive a formal piece of paper that states what I’ve known for a very long time, that I am no longer his. Well thank you so much for the closure my faithful and supportive government but you can keep that lovely document, I have tendency to burn shit like that anyway so why break a Twenty. Besides, I’ve decided to treat myself to some Miso soup, Spicy Salmon Maki and a Soft Shell Crab Roll instead. Do you think this falls along the same lines as pawning my engagement ring and using the money to buy The Burning Crusade expansion and epic surround sound for my Macbook Pro?