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Yes...It Gets Worse

I thought the worst was over.

Clearly, I thought wrong.

New Boo got his stuff out today, just like I asked him. He said he did it because it wasn't fair to me. He also said that he was going to look for his own place so he could have peace of mind.

These are good things. I'm actually proud of him. He says he's still sober, and that's a good thing, too.

But I am not handling this well.

I decided to leave the house because there are just too many memories in there right now. Plus, he took my hope along with his stuff and I'm crying again.

So I went to a party. One of my DJ friends is celebrating 11 years tonight, and I hadn't seen him in about 11 years, so I went. It was a nice shindig. Not only did I meet his girlfriend -- who's lovely, by the way -- I also may have picked up a client for my latest side-hustle -- crotchet braiding.

I also met a couple of dudes. I danced with one and just talked to the other one. Nothing major because, hey, I'm not there at all.

Then I came to work. The plan is to write first, do my show later.

The first story I worked on was the Ben Affleck-Jennifer Garner split story. He's finally decided to take off his wedding band, which basically signifies the end of that thing.

WHY was I in tears writing it? Ugh!!!

That's how I feel about New Boo getting his stuff. There's really no turning back now. And that's a little more painful than I thought it would be. I honestly thought it wouldn't affect me to see him and help him take his stuff -- and himself -- out of my life.

So now I'm reduced to tears. Again. And I can't help myself.

I guess my question is this -- will I ever get to be myself again? Will I ever get to a place where the thought of breakups -- not just mine -- won't bring me back here again?

I swear...I thought the worst was over.

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