Things I Wish I Could Say

I am in the middle of trying to finish up the business end of my marriage. Switching accounts that are in my name, dealing with the joint bank account, etc. That stuff that I avoided for a year. My ex-husband and I were texting with what we had accomplished in splitting these things and he said, "I am really sorry for all of this." I know he is sorry. I appreciate that he is sorry. I do not forgive him.

For some reason, I thought that it was a good idea to make a hair appointment for 7pm on a Tuesday. I went to the restaurant up the block from the salon and ate a salad that comprised mostly of kale. I hate kale. I didn't read the description, and when the massive mound of garnish came out to me, I recoiled in horror on the inside, and then suited up to take the punishment for not paying attention and making a poor decision. I ate the whole damn salad and mustered up enough courage to feel good about the health benefits of this green. Still though, I'm not eating kale on purpose ever again.

My hairdresser is a sweetie. She's insanely attractive and nice with this weird ease of her beauty that many women spend hours to achieve through beach waves and natural makeup tutorials. She seems really happy with her job and she's really good at it. For someone who is perhaps my age or maybe a bit younger, she seems to have it under control in a way that many, including myself, strive for well into middle age. This Tuesday, though, she was warm with her greeting, but withdrawn.

I should note here that I am not the kind of client that needs bread and circuses when I get my hair cut. If you don't want to talk, then we're cool. If you want to tell me about what's going on with your life, then even better. I've never been good at idle chitchat, and to feign interest in whatever television show you're blathering on about has never been something that I could do easily. So, I usually follow someone's lead in situations like these. She said she was going through some rough stuff since I had seen her last in mid-December. I didn't press. She elaborated it was about her marriage. I said I understood and asked if she remembered what I had disclosed about the end of my marriage. Then, she asked how it all started and I told her that the beginning of the end was his infidelity. She then disclosed that that was what she was dealing with and I could tell that she was kind of relieved that she told me. She explained the situation and that she intended to stay and work it out. I told her that for me, that was not an option, but I understood her conviction. Ultimately, the decision that she makes is what will be right for her at the time, and I cannot pretend to know what that is. We chatted about what I thought that my ex-husband was looking for when he went to someone else and how I discovered things about the relationship that I hadn't understood while they were happening. She was sad and scared. I have traded my sadness and fear for anger. At least, for now.

When my haircut was over, we were chatting and I told her that she could email me or call anytime that she wanted to talk about what she was feeling. She asked when it was going to stop hurting. I told her that I wish that I could say that it would be quick, but it isn't. I wish I could say that you will stop thinking about it right away, but you won't. I wish I could say that your life will resume to exactly what you are comfortable with, but it won't.

But, much like that goddamned salad, sometimes you have to deal with the aftermath of not making good decisions, no matter how much you thought you were doing the right thing at the time. And much like that salad, you have to deal with what happens and try to figure out the good that can come of it. And most of all, much like that fucking salad, you have to promise yourself that you'll do better next time and pay attention to exactly what you need.