My ex is as I write still caught in what must surely be one of the biggest traffic jams ever known, trying to extricate himself and our son from a festival site. I was low on sympathy and big on self-pity today as I was looking forward to spending some time with our son on his return. Instead he's spent nine hours stuck in a campsite. And I've been stuck indoors wishing I was there.
So the texts were flying. I was annoyed, we both became unreasonable. I knew it wasn't, and still isn't my ex's fault. So what made me text the following? It was like a lightning bolt of pure truth blew the rest of our squabbles away:
"The huge irony is that had you learned to deal with me being disabled we'd have hired a camper van, been able to park in the disabled area and been one of the first out. Serves you right. Ha."
And they call Disability Bitch a bitch? You know what though? He texted back:
"Thanks. Fair enough. Some truth in that."The truth really can hurt but even as I type it still rings truer than true. Would I have seen much of the festival had I gone? That's not the point. I would have been there because my ex accepted my disability and wanted me to be part of something, however much or little I actually ventured from the camper van of my dreams. Right, back to sulking. Not the best of days for any of the former members of our fractured little family.