Don't Call it a Comeback

(Parental and Christian Advisory)

It's been 2 years and 12 days since I stepped out on faith, claiming my independence and entering single life. It's been a journey, but I feel like I've "made it." My life is so peaceful and full and I have a happiness that I never imagined would stem from the dissolution of my marriage. Shit's good. My anger has subsided and my tears have all but dried. There are those moments when I'm forced down memory lane, like uh the other day.

Imagine you're sitting back watching your favorite talk show and BAM (one of) your ex's mistresses is on your screen...front and phucking center. Yeah, that was me, gagging. I was actually breathless. My fingers went from being numb, to pressing pause, and to pressing keys to text my closest girlfriends. This bitch was on TV talking about family and shit and I'm thinking "Family? Phuck family. You wanna know about family? Family phucked my husband. That's right, Faith phucked my husband!" (Okay, that didn't really apply. I tend to pop in and out of character. That was Vanessa L. Williams' line in Soul Food.) I mean I did feel some kinda way listening to her monkey ass talking about the preservation of her family, while she help to dismantle mine. And don't you dare get it twisted. I know my ex is to blame for letting his snake slither in foreign yards. The shit just pissed me off.

Anyway, I eyed the clock and for a few minutes, I sobbed on the phone to my girl. It was hard and loud and brief. Don't call it a comeback, those feelings. I showered (for my date) and kept it moving. When I got to his house, we talked about a lot of things, one of which, was my talk show debacle. We sat still, because no words could really be spoken. I'm just glad I was able to have that moment of silence, which was quickly filled with giggles. Despite the rocky start, the rest of my evening was smooth sailing. I've got some great lifeboats, but I run my ship. Aye aye Captain!