I sold my car and started biking to work. I joined a dance class. I cut my long, dull hair into a short, sassy bob. I threw out the frumpy clothes I wore to make Zack comfortable and bought dresses I loved—floral prints, bright reds, bold jewelry.
My children were shocked.
Maybe I did. I felt younger. For the first time in decades, I was choosing me.
Letting Go of Guilt
Amy also told me that Zack was seeing a therapist now and dealing with depression. My heart ached a little for him. But not enough to return. He was a man I had loved deeply once. But love, neglected and unreciprocated, dries up like a riverbed in drought.
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