I woke up feeling shitty and guilty. Felt shitty and guilty all day. And then I got over it, at least for a while.
I love the world. I love my friends. I love my family. I love my husband and my two lovers, each in their own way. I love myself, at least for the last few minutes. (Trying not to wallow in self-loathing all the time.)
I have to forgive myself for being human in this world, with the rule book that is in place where we, men and women, are allowed to try to be happy in a relationship. It’s no longer about melding wealth and property like it was in the 18th century, or getting enough cows from a dowry into the family herd to survive the next famine. We get to ask for happiness, our generation.
And I refuse to be disloyal to my friendship with my husband. If he will let me, I’ll be there for him. I’ll help him if he asks, and take care of him if he gets seriously sick. Like I would do for any friend.