Leaving Cripple Creek
This was the idea for a blog two years ago, when all that consumed me was the demise of my marriage. It seemed the entire world outside my body and soul was happy for its end; but I was mangled in shock. My mind and heart were at odds as eighteen years of memories re-winded and fast-forwarded at warp speed at all inopportune times of the day.
In anger, there was a strong desire to anonymously post all the texts and photos I secured from the new loving couple. The world could share my rage and I might feel better with the horrible exposure. Thankfully, cooler heads prevailed. (I think. Occasionally I worry I might have posted something somewhere in a drunken stupor; but to date it hasn’t resurfaced.)
Over and over in my head, The Band played Up on Cripple Creek. While my heart was trying to catch its breath from being crushed and winded, my brain knew my days as the drunkard’s dream were over. And that’s when reconstruction began.
