To everything, turn turn turn...

The universe reminded me twice this week that my ex found someone before I did.

Wednesday I opened up an e-mail that had been automatically forwarded to me from a former co-worker's account. The e-mail was an e-blast from a PR/Marketing group that specializes in non-profits. This is something I would typically forward or delete without pausing to give it any actual attention, but for some reason I scrolled all the way down to view the text and the photos.

It was her. Staring at me, a lot prettier than I remember, with long thick hair (exactly as he likes it), and a smug closed-mouth smile on her face. Her bio, listed beneath her photo, confirmed that it was in fact her. The woman who married the guy who put me in therapy. The woman who married the guy that I was positive could never maintain a relationship. That there was no way he could find a healthy situation before I could.

And yet I'm alone and he's married. To an attractive, successful person, apparently.

I don't like going to my mom's church but I did this morning because I know how much she likes the family to go together. I also know that my prayer ethic could be beefed up a little. It sure couldn't hurt to go and sit and listen to scripture for an hour, could it?

But there they were, sitting in the front pew; his arm around her, stroking her shoulder gently. He never was that affectionate with me. I had assured myself that it was him, not me - that he had interpersonal difficulty, and that's why he had been alternatively hot and cold with me. It wasn't that I wasn't worth affection. Right?

So I see them up there, blissful newlyweds, sitting up in the front row like they deserve to be there, and I froze all over. My face, my voice, my spirit. I couldn't sing the hymns, I couldn't recite the prayers, I couldn't be in a state of peace.

I left and got a latte.