Tag, you're it

Tag, you're it. That's what a hoover is. Chase me and try to get me. It's not a game if you refuse to play anymore.

"Hope you have a better day" is the text I received yesterday morning after 9 months (based on a post on my business FB page.)

REALLY? And what day would that be?

-The day you said you'd call me back and didn't for a month?
-Or maybe the day you left me crying alone in the stairwell?
-How about the day I was curled up in the fetal position in my closet crying?
-Oh, I bet you mean the day I had to get on antidepressants because I couldn't shake the intense sadness of being discarded like trash. THAT must be the day you mean.

DELETE, DELETE, DELETE.

I saw my new therapist yesterday and am ready to work on ME. I have wasted enough time ruminating on the N and trying to figure out what happened. It's a brand new day, and I am happy.

Any "bad days" I have are infinitely better than any "good days" I thought I had with the N.