I bought this mug during the two months after I broke up with my baby daddy but before I’d moved out
I bought this mug during the two months after I broke up with my baby daddy but before I’d moved out of the house we rented together. . . I bought it thinking something like, “I deserve to do what I love… I deserve love and to be happy.” I drank out of that mug even though I was living in mental-emotional hell in that house. . . When my ex saw it, he said something like, “do what you love? You’re gonna be doing some guy, looking for new dick.” . . And just like that, he tainted my experience drinking out of the mug that was supposed to be about my new life. . . For the past 4.5 years drinking from this mug it’s crossed my mind that I should get rid of it. But it was chipped and stained… only truly useful to me. “I could smash it,” I thought. . . But it didn’t feel right to do it on purpose. To intentionally destroy a gift from me to myself just because of the memory of his abuse. . . I had this intuitive sense that the mug would break itself at the correct time. . . Yesterday, as I walked into work, I was carrying the mug in my hand. Somehow it just slipped through my fingers towards the hard tile floor of the school. . . There was a moment. A half second when the mug was suspended in air and I was suspended in time, when I thought, “I wonder if it’s going to break?” . . Of course it would break. It seemed humorously obvious as it smashed into 15 small fragments in the middle of the hall. . . “Fuck!” And the middle schoolers walking by smirk at me because they heard me swear. . . I laugh and go to get the broom. . . That life is over. . . : @raportraits (at Lethbridge, Alberta) https://www.instagram.com/graceunfoldingwithcaitlin/p/BvMtMqcnkNe/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=rofygzy0x8lf -- source link