Since my last post, and while I walk trying to clear my mind, I've thought of random ideas for my next post. At earlier points in time, I've thought about entire posts of annoying things about my ex. I've thought about listing every idiosyncrasy that drove me crazy. I've considered highlighting the dysfunction of his oddly enmeshed relationship with his daughter. But I don't think I care anymore.
There are still flickers of anger but the seething hate is gone. I don't care enough to spend the time to outline these atrocities. It's not worth my time. If that's not healing, I don't know what is!
I have one final hour of professional development to complete before my official summer break. I'm planning on powering through and wrapping it up tonight. I haven't had a summer off for a few years. Working a limited part time job will be barely working. In actuality, I find I do better with a schedule. So I'm going to try that. Schedule tasks to be accomplished by a certain date. Sounds easy.
Lower your expectations, I know I have. When I start reading for pleasure, all bets are off. At times, nothing else happens until I finish that page, that chapter, get to the ending. The only benefit of this summer is that I don't have any lavish vacations planned to distract me. I don't have any day trips, weekends away, road trips. Nothing. Only taking my mom to some doctor appointments. The good part is now I have an excuse to wait in the car since doctor's offices are not allowing anyone but the patient in the office. And I can read while I'm waiting.
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