Decisions, decisions.

Now that I’ve definitely made it through to the other side, I can safely talk about Bad Decision Weekend. Here’s the deal. The anniversary of my first marriage is May 22nd, and the anniversary of my second is May 26th. Though there is 9 years in between, the dates being so close together creates what could easily become a long weekend surrounded by depression and regret. But these are not the only bad decisions I’ve ever made. This ain’t my first rodeo, and I don’t give up that easily.

The weekend’s title is mostly a joke. At the time, I thought each marriage was the best decision I’d ever made, and I entered into both of them with bright eyes, full of love and wonder. I look the same way going into the cheese aisle at grocery stores, though. Not every ticket is a winner.

I decided instead to put a positive spin on it. Celebrate the days for something new. Applaud myself for making good decisions, no matter how small. Making them at all is actually really difficult for me, no matter the context. It can be anything from where I want to eat (THE BANE OF MY FUCKING EXISTENCE! GOOD LORD!) to whether or not I like one shade of purple better than the other, and I instantly create a mental block that wouldn’t allow me to tell you my opinion even if I did have one. So I decided to take it easy on myself, and acknowledge my progress. No matter what, I wasn’t going to feel guilty (as long as nobody was hurt by my decision, that is. Rule numero uno.)

Friday, I decided to post little throwback pictures of Wedding 1. It’s more of a fun memory than anything else at this point, and seeing the younger versions of all of us in terrible clothing was cute. Also, my son was our ring bearer, and he was freaking adorable. I also went on a date, and decided to eat a salad. It’s not exciting because I’m trying to be healthy (the beer I washed it down with was proof of that.) it’s that I remembered to order food I can eat with a fork. I have a tiny mouth, and there has been more than one occasion where I ended up wearing more of my food than eating it. Or, better yet, having to use both hands to cram it into my wee maw whilst trying to appear smooth and sophisticated. I also decided that the date would go no further than the planned dinner and movie. Sticking with the schedule takes out the guesswork and accompanying doubt. Easy peasy.

Saturday, I decided to act like an adult. For the first time in my entire life, I had preventative maintenance done on my car. It finally occurred to me that, independent lady that I am, I have no idea how to change a fucking tire. Though I’m sure I could find someone to call in the case that I need one changed, there’s nobody contractually obligated to bail me out of car-related issues within a reasonable traveling distance anymore. Seriously though, I lived off the high of being responsible and buying new tires before I needed them for a good 3 days.

Sunday, I picked a place to eat. By myself. Even without multiple options from someone else to choose from. Also, it was a place neither I or my companion had ever eaten before. Totally new. As if the tires weren’t enough, now I was just getting cocky! And I didn’t stop there! I chose dessert, AND what to watch on TV. I may actually scrap the whole weekend and just make a holiday out of that day alone. The Day Dinner Was Chosen in Less Than Half an Hour. Be prepared for your banks to be closed on this day next year.

By Monday, I was all too close to the dreaded anniversary of Wedding 2. This one was not a fun memory quite yet. There would be no cutesy pictures, no happy stories. It’s too fresh, too raw still. So, I decided to let myself feel that, and be okay with it. With help from both Bridget Jones movies (back to back, no less) I stopped holding it in, toughing it out, or making jokes about it. I let myself just be sad that something I once believed in so much is now gone. It hurts. When Colin Firth hunted down Hugh Grant in Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason to confront him about letting Bridget be arrested for drug smuggling, I cried it all out. For our heroine, who didn’t know what a good man she had til she found herself in a Thai prison, for the little girl I once was who thought (twice) that she had found such a Prince Charming, and for the woman I am now, who can take care of herself, but secretly wants someone to punch a dude in the face on her behalf every now and then.

The actual anniversary was Tuesday, and as I had previously decided to take the day off work, I then chose to go shopping. I know, how cliche. But there’s a reason for that, it friggin’ works. Except that I almost turned around halfway to the outlet mall, because I felt guilty. Then I remembered the year I spent looking over my shoulder at every checkout line, trying to figure out how I would justify my spending on the ride home, and the panic attack I nearly had over buying an unplanned sponge. (That fucking sponge will haunt me forever.) Before I knew it, I was checking out of Journey’s with 2 pairs of overpriced, completely nonsensical shoes, and feeling pretty good about myself.

Though this weekend was actually harder than I thought it would be, or told anyone about, I made it. I never doubted that I would, actually. When I do get around to making a choice, I stick with it. Maybe there are times that I shouldn’t, but in this case, it worked out pretty dang well.


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