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"Can I tell you how much better I feel since yesterday? Deciding to bury the ashes of my painful list may have been a symbolic gesture, but it was just what I needed. A real shot in the arm, or more accurately, a kick to the backside. Who&amp;#039;s life is this, anyway? I keep on looking at my life in relation to where it used to be, instead of in relation to where it can be. That needed to end, and I really think yesterday did it. My good friend, author Suzanne Finnamore wrote a wonderful essay a few years back about how time surprisingly heals a lot of the wounds of divorce. One of the paragraphs resonated with me the first time I read it, as I wondered if I&amp;#039;d ever get to this place mentally: &amp;quot;After a couple of years, you can appreciate your ex for who he is and realize that he is separate and distinct from you. You can feel a certain amount of warmth for him, as you do your alma mater, or your car. You can love a car, but you do not attach yourself to the car. You do not buy little gifts for the car, thinking you can win the car over. You do not lose sleep over whether the car thinks you are attractive or if the car is thinking of you too, right now. You do not especially care whether someone else drives the car.&amp;quot; As I was driving to the chapel yesterday, I was composing an email to Peter in my mind. Dear Peter,  I drove by the chapel where we got married today, and I just wanted you to know that even with the way things ended up, I don&amp;#039;t regret the two of us being there twenty years ago. We had a lot more good than bad, I think. I will always love you for the gift of our children, and I really, honestly want nothing but happiness for you. Then I pulled up in front of the chapel, had my little ceremony, said what I wanted to say to nobody but me, dusted off my hands, got back in the car and realized that I didn&amp;#039;t want to send that email. I didn&amp;#039;t need to send that email. And best of all, I didn&amp;#039;t particularly care if he knew any of what I wanted to say in that email. It was completely, and utterly irrelevant. It&amp;#039;s been a little over two years since he moved out, and one day since our 20th wedding anniversary, and I am not who I was. Not two years ago, and certainly not twenty years ago. I&amp;#039;m different. I&amp;#039;m better. And I&amp;#039;m on the way to who I really want and need to be. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.womansday.com/relationships/dating-marriage/a46192/over-it/>