Yesterday, I wrote about backing out of the chance to move back east. So much turmoil exists as friends and family are struggling with broken marriages or rocky roads in their marriages.
Today, I received support for my theory that I would end up lost in their issues, forgetting about my own identity that I have been working on rebuilding, lo these past eight or so months.
As I'm reading texts from my friend about her latest encounter with her husband, who recently left her for another woman, I felt I had to apologize for a text I sent last night.
You see, I had been out having a few beer with friends and stumbled upon a text I thought was new but was, as it turned out, several months old.
I said: Yeah, I got dumped last night so I kinda needed a few drinks.
'Dumped' might be too strong a word. Hell, we'd had one official date, sex once, and only a few kisses and cuddles beyond that. But that didn't stop me from being heartbroken.
My friend's next text, however, didn't even acknowledge that I was hurting. She instead launched into her shrink's analysis of her husband's behaviour.
I've spent my adult life telling other people's stories, through the glory of print journalism and working in communications.
On few occasions - mostly during job interviews - do people bother to ask me about me.
But one would think her friends would ask 'are you OK' or 'what happened.'
In no way will I hold against my friend her words today. She's enduring a pain I can't begin to comprehend, picking up the pieces of her life and those of her children.
She did, however, remind me that I made the right decision and moving home is certainly not in the cards for me.