The day I let our love die
I stood by it until its last sigh
Then disappeared from the scene of the crime
Locked away to serve my time

Cause in a great divide
Where a line is drawn
Oh you must decide
Which half you're standing on
~ Hard Line, Jill Barber

I ran into an old friend today, and as I left our conversation and walked back to work I realized I was completely disconcerted. I keep running into people this week that want to talk about the split and (I am assuming in a effort to be supportive) tell me how much they didn't like my husband, anyways.

This has happened quite a bit in the last six months, and I still don't really know how I am supposed to feel about these revelations. I mean, I get it, I understand that people want to let me know that they are still my friend, or whatever, and maybe it's just that I'm not angry enough. Maybe if I were angrier, I would want to bitch about what an asshat my ex was, but really, it just makes me feel sad. Poor judgement or not, I loved this person, enough to marry them and expect to spend the rest of my life with them. That it didn't work out is just sad, for everyone involved. I don't mourn the death of our relationship in particular, since I am really glad I got out when I did, because it was coming down to me or it, and I chose to save me. But I do mourn the shiny, happy, idealistic version of me that died with it.

Sometimes things just don't go the way you planned, and laying blame isn't going to change what happened, or how it happened, or why. It just did, because sometimes that's just the way it goes. Tossing piles of blame at someone's feet isn't going to change the fact that the only person I can hold truly accountable in this world is myself - and that's okay, you know?