Sounds familiar

from today's NY Times--

The reason why everything from the puffiness of Mrs. Spitzer’s eyes to the number of inches between her and her husband at press conferences have been scrutinized is that we treat D-Days like natural disasters. The American Association for Marriage and Family Therapy has warned, “The reactions of the betrayed spouse resemble the post-traumatic stress symptoms of the victims of traumatic events.”

It took me an incredibly long time to recover from what my ex-husband did, partly because it was such a surprise (although I used to often think that eventually he would leave me because everyone always does). Then the impetus turned out to be his secretary--I don't know if that made me feel better or worse, but I know it felt like PTSD. There were wonderful things that came out of the whole experience, though, and my life is peaceful and as it should be as a result. I love living by myself in my home. I found out SO MUCH about myself and discovered and dealt with my various chemical brain issues. I feel better about myself and my behavior.

Sometimes I vaguely wish I could have a second chance, but then I pinch myself and realize that the man whose company I enjoyed and the life I had with him will never come back. He no longer exists, and this very strange man has taken his place. I know that basically he is the same person, I can see that, but superficially (and I DO mean superficially) he is different--very different, and not someone I want to be around. I just miss his sense of humor, our time in the woods together, the time we spent hanging out together, and most especially the things he could do around the house. OK, that's got nothing to do with having a relationship, but boy oh boy do I miss someone who could fix the hoses in my washing machine so I wouldn't have to go to the laundromat, or smack the ice off the roof so it wouldn't leak and leave big stains on the ceiling, or NOT make a hole in the kitchen ceiling because of course the leak would not be coming from there, or finish the skirting around the house so it wouldn't be so cold. I'm pretty sure he never would have completely finished the house--there are still plenty of places needing molding. But think how nice it would be to have someone to paint the living room with? Jenica was great in helping me with the bedroom, making me realize how much better a room can look when you paint it. She also showed me how easy it is to paint a room, so now I can do it by myself, which is as it should be.

If you live alone you need to know how to do things, and that's ok. I know what some of my friends always say: that you need to know when to ask for help, too. I also know I'm no good at that: for some reason it's terribly difficult for me to ask for help. Why? Do I think of it as a sign of weakness? Am I afraid of being rejected? Does it make me a poor pathetic bastard? Do I just feel that I should be able to take care of myself? Oh who knows. Lin is wonderful at forcing me to accept help and I don't know what I would have done without her help so many, many times. She is a great friend. One of many, including Ken, who used to be someone I counted on so often. That's one of the reasons I'm happy to be whatever I can be in his life. I can't have the quality of life I enjoy without friends to share it with, support me, appreciate me, laugh with me--and who will accept what I have to offer. True happiness is shared, as they say. Sounds like a Hallmark card. Only worse.