So, I know that I said I wasn’t going to remove the pictures of my husband from my Facebook page, but I’ve had a change of heart.
So call me schizophrenic.
I got to thinking that he had tagged himself in all of these pics that I had posted and he had only tagged himself in the ones that included him or him and the kids. He left up two pictures of the two of us dressed to the nines because it made him look good.
It got me to thinking. Did I really want my pictures to be used to make him look good to his girlfriend?
An emphatic, “NO!”
So, I deleted all of the pictures that I had posted of him on Facebook. All of the pictures where you could even make out it was him. The only one I kept up was one of the entire family dressed up for Halloween.
Let him use that one.
I’ve already gone back to my maiden name on my Facebook page. I’ve already changed my status on my relationship to “It’s complicated.” And I found that I didn’t want my Facebook page used to make him look good to some bitch that he’s banging when he’s supposed to be working or that he sends hundreds of text messages to every day.
I also untagged him in a ton of photos that he had tagged himself in.
*As an aside, if anyone can help me with keeping him from retagging himself, I’d appreciate the lesson.
I deleted entire albums (a big “sorry” to my friends that used to be tagged there). I deleted entire events from our Facebook history.
Next week, I’m replacing photos in frames, cause I don’t want to see the pictures any more.
Pictures are hurtful. They remind you of good times that you had. But, when all of that has gone sour and you think that all of the good times were a lie, why do you want to look at the pictures?
Maybe someday I’ll look at them. Maybe someday I’ll be ready to look at them again.
For right now, I’m scheduling some pictures to be taken of me and the boys so that I can take down those pictures in hallway. The ones that he so callously pointed out to his mother saying that I could take them with me when I moved out.
Tomorrow, I’m rearranging my bedroom and he’ll be moving into another room. Tonight he moved himself out of the bathroom in the Master Suite. Finally, I have a suite of rooms all to myself! I feel like the Kardashians. Not.
I know that his relationship is over and I want it to be over. I’m ready for it to be over. I can’t wait to move out. But it’s still hard when I feel like I’m slapped in the face with these reminders all the time.
Like I said, I’m a really good ostrich and I’m very capable of lying to myself, thank you very much.
But this is one thing I can’t lie to myself about. He doesn’t let me and I shouldn’t, won’t, let myself.
No matter how much it hurts. No matter how hard it is to be forgotten.
I owe myself that much. I’m stronger than that. I just have to remind myself.