I’ll be the actress starring in your bad dreams. –Taylor Swift, Look What You Made Me Do

In my early twenties, I was in a super weird place. I had just come off of a really dangerous, controlling, and abusive relationship with this overgrown man child who was stalking me. I was displaced when it came to school because I had to seek legal help because of this aforementioned man child and had to drop out temporarily. I was really over men because I had dealt with a couple of awful ones and quite frankly, every relationship after the abusive one has suffered because of it.

This isn’t a blog to make people feel bad for me. This isn’t a blog to send out a reminder that I was in an abusive relationship with a guy who is supposed to protect our community. This isn’t a blog to show people that I have an excuse for being a crazy mess. I’m writing this because I feel like I’ve left some good people out. And recently, this has come to my attention in a big way.

But it’s like they say, no one ever remembers the good stuff.

As a lot of you know, I’m a social worker. But for the moment, because I have chosen to stay home and personally care for and raise my sweet child, I’m what I tenderly call “temporarily retired” from the social work field. And while that social worker mentality never goes away (seriously, I council and pep talk every single person in my life because I miss it so much), I’ve opted to do a different job for the time being. A job that’s “below my pay grade”, a job where I “waste my intelligence”, and a job where people have tried to ding me by asking me if I’m going to “deliver groceries my whole life”.

I’m going to divert from that subject for now because I don’t want to get sidetracked but I’m sure you guys know me well enough to know what I would say to these spectators who think they know what’s best for my life…

In doing this job, I bump into a lot of people I know. Just the other day, in fact, I literally ran into three people I knew super personally. And while it’s always awkward to say, “Yeah, I do this for now,” I have to continually remind myself that everyone has to do what is best for their family. And this is what’s best for mine.

But recently, I keep bumping into the same person over and over again. Because apparently in addition to being a “badge bunny”, as my husband likes to jokingly call me, I also have a knack for dating people who have/currently work for Publix. And I have been sent multiple times to a store where one of my (not psycho) ex-boyfriends works.

Over and over again.

And I don’t have the gumption to even look at him.

‘Cause darling, I’m a nightmare dressed like a daydream. –Taylor Swift, Blank Space

Why is that, you might ask. If he’s such a nice, normal guy, with a super nice and normal wife and family, why can’t I just look up from my work app and send him a friendly hello? Because I wasn’t so nice to him, you guys. Because I let someone who hurt me define my relationship with him and quite frankly, I was a shitty girlfriend for pretty

much one hundred percent of that relationship. Even right up until the end.

And I don’t want anyone to misunderstand because it seriously all worked out for the best. We weren’t meant to be for a few reasons that don’t really merit getting into anymore but he was a good guy. He was my boyfriend very soon after my abusive ex and the few insolent children that followed him and I’m telling you, he took the brunt of a lot of nonsense.

He helped me move from a third floor apartment. He dealt with personal text messages from my abusive ex (because they knew each other from school, apparently). He had his brand new vehicle broken into at my apartment (and I shamelessly asked him immediately afterward if we could still follow through with our plans). He drove me all the way to Tallahassee for a Florida State game with my parents, whom he had never even met. He was in a car accident one morning on the way to work (in said brand new vehicle) after I literally begged him to spend the night, knowing how far away from his work my apartment was.

I was a jerk to him, pretty much all of the time, you guys. And he was just a regular guy. (I actually always say that he and my husband would probably get along fairly well.) Just a regular guy trying to date some crazy person he thought he saw some semblance of a future with. He never raised his voice at me, even when I was literally being crazy (which happened a lot back then because it’s what I had gotten used to with my ex). He always paid for my meals and alcohol, even though he was trying to save for his future. He put up with my relatively crazy day care friends even though he had plenty of people of his own that he would rather hang out with.

And you know what?? A couple of those people still talk to me because they are just normal, nice people too.

Like, there is literally no bad blood between us. And if there is any, it’s because of me. It’s because of how I treated him and not the other way around.

And maybe that’s why I couldn’t say anything to him, even though I thought I felt him looking at me (in an Is-that-who-I-think-it-is…? sort of way). I couldn’t say anything to him even though I walked past him a bunch of times and actually, even had to go back because in my insane rush to avoid him, I forgot something. And literally, like literally literally, had to get within a couple of feet of him to grab that stupid spring salad mix I needed.

The whole day after I bumped into him, and all the times it’s happened since, I feel like such a bratty, little twerp. Like, how old are we? Wait, no, how old am I? The little grocery delivery creep that can walk into a stranger’s house unafraid but can’t look into the eyes of her ex-boyfriend from more than ten years ago. Ridiculous. I’m ashamed.

Why couldn’t I just say hi when clearly there’s nothing to get all bent out of shape about? I mean, quite frankly I probably did him a favor because his wife is like, super, super cute and I recall her being really nice in high school.

You’re welcome, Ant. (I say with the utmost confidence behind my computer.)

Moral of the Crazy: I talked in depth to my husband about this (I know, I am such a freak, right?) and one of my close girlfriends and they both said, “I don’t really get why you didn’t just go up to him and say, ‘Hey, how’s it going?’”

You guys, it’s like this: I was a mess. A total disaster of a mess when I was with him and if I can pull out the words in my brain that make sense to me, it’s like he was the glue that held me together. We didn’t have a perfect relationship; and quite frankly, he wasn’t perfect in every meaning of the word. But he took care of me, like no one else ever had up until that point. And he dealt with my disgruntled behavior and my hatred of men and his music (seriously, God help me) and he just smiled and dealt with it.

I remember one time, he and his sister drove me to the airport so that I could visit my parents for Christmas. I don’t remember why his sister came with us but I remember saying that I was so sorry that they had to do that favor for me so early in the goddamn morning, days before Christmas. And you know what? They were both like, forget about it. No big deal.

(Italian New Yorkers, am I right? They’re all just so go with the flow. It’s really a wonderful character trait.)

Because sometimes good people are just good people. They don’t need a reason.

I guess, now that I’m seeing him over and over again, I feel the need to really explain myself. And what’s weird is you would think that I would have, at some point, run up and said, “Hey, just so you know, I work for Instacart. I’m not actually stalking you,” but I guess I feel better about myself being a total weirdo. Yeah, that’s definitely better. I’ll just let him think I’m stalking him!

*giant exaggerated eye roll*

And who knows? Maybe he remembers this about me and isn’t fazed by my ridiculous behavior. Maybe he hasn’t even realized it’s me. Or maybe he has and he just doesn’t care.

Regardless, I decided the last time I literally ran from him and probably embarrassed myself in front of his employees, I was going to approach him (if the opportunity presented itself) and say at least, hello. Maybe even throw in a, how are you or, fancy meeting you here, depending on my insanity level. I do weird, awkward things when I’m uncomfortable so I guess I’ll play it by ear.

I’m starting to learn, as time goes by, that not all people are bad. And sure, a lot of them are. A lot of them are even worse than bad but you know what? Some of them aren’t. Some of them are just good, regular people who occasionally bump into their ex-girlfriend in the produce section.

And it’s like Ariana Grande says, you’ve got to be thankful for your exes because without them, you wouldn’t be here.

So thanks, buddy. If you’re reading this: thank you for taking care of me when I was a nut job. I thank you so much and hope you know none of my awful behavior was personal.

And I promise next time to say hi.

Because you can bandage the damage, you never really can fix a heart. –Demi Lovato, Fix A Heart