Here's to you, Megan Smith

A few days ago, I had a morning. And when a well-timed call came from Boston came through I cried and whined about my lost life in a moment of pity. Then I had to cut the call and run to work and do things and when my return call came he noted I sounded much better. I laughed. And told him now I wasn't less upset... I was now only in public. I'd rather die than make a scene. And it got me thinking; I know when to let the crazy out and when to cage it in.

Strange seque, but bear with me - Shedding a name feels fake. It's pretend. Changing a name does NOT change who you are, stupids. Whatever name you know me by I answer to in a crowd. (PS my favorite name is PJ). Pretending I was something or some word is not who I am. I am not a new human because I have a new name.

So. What I do is not for the masses (yes Internet I know I'm talking to you STUPID) but it is for dumb ole me. This is a raw, visceral, ugly, hateful, miserable, awful thing I had to do. And I hate it. When I could still say "hello, I'm Megan Smith," and not "hello, I'm Megan divorced-from-Tommy-so-not-Smith-anymore-now-I'm-Venable" it felt safe. I wish I wish I still could. Honest honest.

I really am sad about not being Mrs. Smith anymore. I'm sorry. I tried real real real real hard to stay the same.

So. I realize this doesn't change Jack or shit to anyone but me. But, Mrs. Smith, you gotta go. But thank you. For what it's worth, thank you. I would like to retire you with grace, and instead it feels like I just shed a snake skin. I'm sorry. That is not what I wanted.

$200 and a court date later we will see what Ms. Venable has to offer.

Jury's out.

But now it's public. I wear divorce on my sleeve the way no other man ever will have to. The ubiquitous changing of the name (suck it assholes).

Looks like I made a scene after all. I'd rather die. But Ms. Venable may not. Now we're in public. *holds head high*