Happy New Year. No, seriously. Big fat Happy New Year!

Last New Year's Eve I sat at home alone after being promised company for the evening by the Ex-Mr. Smith. He's not a villain; I understood why he left. What I don't understand is why he agreed to spend the evening with me in the first place. I cried for four hours straight and made a new bed skirt for the guest room as a distraction. All I could think, the only mantra that ran through my head for those four hours while I alternately sewed and cried, was "This never happens again. I will not be in this position next year, or ever again. It never happens again."

I was right. Fancy that.

Tomorrow night after work on New Year's Eve, I have a date with the Roomstress and DJ Smith. We have a ton of places to go over the course of the evening, and I plan to dress up, wear a face full of makeup and be the life of the party. And that's just the one night!

In the new year, I get to take on a freelance dream job that I hope and pray springboards me into something wonderful. I have a wonderful circle of supportive friends. I got a fabulous boyfriend (ahead of schedule but DETAILS, so what?), I have a great place to live, and most importantly, I can without a doubt believe that whole parental unit "love you no matter what!" thing. I love that despite a year of hell, I came out on the other 365 days happier, healthier and with stronger relationships with my parents, my brother and sister, and my darling darling darling niece and nephew.

A few days ago my mother asked if I remembered telling her repeatedly that I was afraid I would be damaged goods if I got divorced. Of course I remember, I told her. Do you feel like damaged goods? she asked.

Nope. I feel like I'm growing. And I'm determined to keep going. As the great Adam Corolla famously says: "You never want to look around the room and realize you're the King of the Dipshits. You need to surround yourself with people who are constantly improving who you are."

Best wishes for a Happy New Year,
Megan (former King of the Dipshits)

is there something behind me?