Someone said that it’s not conflict that’s bad for a relationship, but, unresolved conflict which takes a mighty toll.  I know, now, that’s the bottom line in a previous relationship, even though there were a number of other factors raging at that marriage on a daily, no, hourly, basis.  That’s not even counting the fact that I’m not perfect, or, at least, I wasn’t.  Seems sort of a cruel trade-off that with age comes maturity and wisdom just when wrinkles and love handles are pulling the rug out from under your self-esteem, but then, I have always said that God had an unusual sense of humor to arrange for teenagers and menopause to happen at the same time.  I mean, really? Do I have to point out the obvious?  No one can emerge from that unscathed.  In any case, if I ever thought recovering from an affair and its aftermath was going to be easy and achieved on willpower and good wishes, alone, I was so mistaken.   At this point, I feel sort of sorry for my husband.  I don’t even remember what day what happened, now, but over a week ago, my feelings were hurt and then hurt again when my husband didn’t defend me to my ailing uncle who doesn’t have a complete grip on things, anymore, which doesn’t account for him being provocative, since he was born provocative, but still.  I try to cut him some slack, that is, until I don’t…like when he wants to drive.  I counter this with the argument that anyone who can’t pull up their own pants is not allowed to drive: I’ve stood by that rule for my kids and it goes for him, too.  Grow old, gracefully, for goodness sake.  Anyway.  So it wasn’t so much my uncle’s comments as I felt thrown under the bus which I feel a little silly about, after all, am I that insecure that I need to have my husband defend me to my 80 year old uncle who can’t pull up his own pants?  What the **** is wrong with me?

What’s worse is that after stuffing it down to forget it only to have H. trigger it like a Jack-in-the-Box, I went into a wicked death spiral which made no sense to me.  All I can conclude is (again) that there are certain people in my past who don’t deserve my even thinking about them,  even if they do show up in my dreams once a week just to hand me my a**.  I mean, life is hard enough, right?  There is really no time for entertaining abusive ingrates or thoughts of them.

In addition to the ingrates not deserving my valuable thinking time, which might explain why I haven’t come up with some genius way to better the world, there is the obvious fact that, no, I am, in fact, not going to be an unusual over-achiever who recovers from an affair in one-quarter of the time anyone else does. Being the brilliant, over-achieving victor of affair-recovery is not in my future.  I should know this, after having surgeries for this, that and the other, that… healing takes as long as it takes.  Period.