Last summer, I don't remember noticing that as much. It's likely because I was stressed with trying to get my life in order and move out from the homeless shelter transitional housing and start our lives over.
This year, though... It's a different story.
Just last night, I saw something online about someone's anniversary, and it dawned on me that August 5th should have been a celebration of 10 years of marriage for me and my former husband.
Seeing all of these joyful summer wedding posts has me feeling a bit miserable tonight. Don't get me wrong, I am happy for others, but it doesn't negate my own heartache.
I had a summer wedding, once. I was engaged to the man of my dreams, as they say, who was promising me his whole life, everything and all things, no matter what, come what may.
I was like most brides- anxious and expectant and excited beyond belief that it was my turn.
It's amazing how my simple little dream wedding lead to the nightmare ending that it did.
I sit here and wonder "why me? Why, out of all these summer weddings, was my story the one culminating with lies, control, manupulation, betrayal, abandonment, and divorce?"
I know I shouldn't wallow. I try not to.
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