Be my own best friend.

One of the great things about spending a week sitting on your ass in the sun is that the ocean air clears things up a bit.

I'm not talking about skin. I actually am still sporting a lovely heat rash on my feet. It's like I have foot leprosy. Yay!

No, more like it clears up your brain. Or at least my brain. And my heart.

I had a bit of an epiphany. The Ex-Boyfriend Formerly Known as Mr. Wonderful? He hasn't changed.

Earlier, I had confused his apology with change. Now, apologizing is a good start. But it isn't the same as structural, foundational change. And without that sort of deep, serious change? Well, Ex-Wonderful isn't a good force in my world. He isn't a suitable partner, and we aren't capable of being friends.

This time of year has proven to be really difficult, because it's like revisiting the time when The Shit Came Down last year.

The night before I left for vacation, Lil' Frankfurter was so excited about my mom being in the house that he kept running from my bed to her and back again. In the midst of that ongoing ruckus, my sleep-deprived self realized that it was the Friday night of Labor Day weekend. And last year, the Friday night of Labor Day weekend? Ex-Wonderful mentioned as we were going to bed that we hadn't been getting along, and perhaps we should take a break.

I was wearing my pink nightgown. The sheets were blue.

I was shocked and hurt. And he announced that he was too tired to talk about it, and so he turned off the light and fell asleep ... while I literally cried myself to sleep.

The next day, I was shocked to find that he still expected me to go to a football game and act like everything was normal. It was like the ground was shifting beneath me and I couldn't steady myself.

These are the flashbacks I'm having.

I want to be a lady of grace and dignity. But the truth is, I don't forgive him. Not yet. Someday, yes. But not today. I don't forgive him for his narcissism and utter lack of respect for me as a human being. I don't forgive him for sending me a self-help book after we broke up because I'm such a fucked-up mess. And I certainly do not forgive him for hurting me so much that even a year later, I'm terrified of getting close to a good, kind, honest man who cares about me very much.

I'm angry.

But I'm also hoping that the ceremonial ripping off of the scab that was his apology will end up being the closure I maybe didn't have when we broke up. Because really? There's not a lot of closure to "I loved this man and we were going to get married and then he went batshit crazy."

But now I realize that he is not capable of loving me the way I deserve to be loved. And that's really too bad for him.

I kept thinking I saw him everywhere in my travels over the last two weeks. For a split second, I would stop breathing. And there were all these young families at the beach, and many of the kids were wearing these Crocs that had eyes and fins and looked like sharks. My gut reaction was that the Ladybug would love those shoes.

He kept telling me I wasn't good enough. If loving them this much wasn't enough, what would be?

Nothing.

And I guess that knowledge is a gift.

So, yet again, I'm still here. I'm trapped in autumn, which is currently like the shittiest section of Disneyland ever. It has attractions like:

• The Maybe You Should Get a Personal Trainer Helpful Suggestion House of Mirrors
• The Just Because I Only Vacuum Twice a Year Doesn't Mean I Won't Yell at You for Wearing Your Shoes on My Carpet Silly Silo
• The Try to Please Me Even Though You Know It's Impossible Rigged Ring Toss

Like I said, I'm still working on that forgiveness bit.

Maybe tomorrow. But for now? I'm good.