Separation... from myself

I feel like my separation from my husband has more than just separated me from him, as the title of this entry clearly states. I've been separated from myself. I've done things I never dreamed I would do. I've been stupid. I've been careless. I haven't been ME. I'm trying to decide if all those are bad things. Perhaps the first two at least. Being me... maybe "me" wasn't the greatest thing to be. Don't get me wrong, I didn't mind who I was. And I say "was" because I think any seriously traumatic event inherently changes you. But maybe, just maybe, being the new me isn't quite so bad. Well, I have a horrible aversion to being in a serious relationship right now. That's the key to understanding me. God, I do NOT want to get into a relationship. The thought petrifies me. It's self preservation... I cannot stand to go through what my husband put me through again. I know I'm not getting any younger, but I have no desire to have children, so who the hell cares? Single life doesn't suit me, but at the moment I feel like monogamy is a trap that I won't be able to escape once sucked in, and I can't deal with that.