Page 37 of My Rules

I pull a blanket over Blake and tuck a pillow under his head. He rolls onto his side and snuggles in as he gets comfortable. I go into the kitchen and take out a notepad and a pen. I need to make sense of all this.

I walk upstairs, lie on my bed on my stomach, and flick the pen around while I think.

Okay . . . so . . .

I think for a while. I can’t work out what I want until I really know who I am.

What am I now?

I begin to list my attributes.

Intelligent

Kind

Soft

Not flirty

Mommish

Sensible

I twist my lips as I think some more.

Predictable

Boring

Yep . . .

The last one’s the killer.

Boring . . .

How the hell did I end up boring?

I was never like this. I was the fun one. I was the spontaneous one. The girl that John wasn’t good enough for. He chased me for years in college before I caved and went out with him.

John was the sensible, boring one, and somehow, as we got older, we switched places. He blossomed into a successful surgeon, and I became the dutiful doctor’s wife who always put his needs before my own.

I stare at my list for a while as the words sink in, and as much as it pains me, I know that every word is true.

I drag myself out of bed and get into the shower. I lean on the tiles under the hot water as a tidal wave of regret washes over me.

Why did I let him change who I was? I guess it was so gradual that I didn’t even realize it was happening.

Always doing the right thing, always putting others’ needs before mine, worrying what people think of me.

I don’t even know who I am anymore.

Little Miss Perfect.

The truth is, I wish I could be more like Blake. He sees something that he wants, and he just goes for it without hesitation.

I finish up in the shower, put on my pajamas, and climb into bed. I stare up at the ceiling in the darkness.

They say that everything comes into your life for a season or a reason.

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