(Yes, this is something of a letter and in a way it is not.)
From the moment I knew, that was the mode I slipped into.
It doesn’t mean that I do not feel. It doesn’t mean I do not hurt.
I know you heard it in my voice. I couldn’t hide it from you, but I wasn’t going to fall apart on that call.
Nor at anytime with you about this.
No, I am not sitting here focusing on that which is done.
…means I have to find a way to deal with the pain and heal. It means crying, it means being upset. It means taking step by step until I am over it.
It means writing in my blog about how I feel.
I know you don’t want me to hurt over you. I know it makes you feel guilty. That it makes you hurt too. But in this you cannot help.
I think four days out, I’m not doing such a bad job.
Yes I am a woman.
And amazingly in spite of that, I do know how to move on.
Think back over this week and tell me differently.
Tell me I’ve made demands on you that you cannot fulfill. Tell me I’ve clung to the past (even if the past was but a blink ago). Tell me I’ve been unreasonable. Tell me I’ve fallen apart on you. Tell me I’ve asked you to choose me.
Tell me I didn’t try to stop the wrecking ball.
I’ve not uttered a word except to help and to wish you happiness and love.
And that’s all I want.
I am not waiting for something to happen that may never happen.
Amazingly sensible for a woman no? Being wired in such womanly ways. (Am I harping? You didn’t think I’d catch that comment?)
Remember who was the D and who was the s my love.
Yes, I’m a little tender and sensitive inside. Nothing can be done about it. Time has to pass.
Do not worry after me. I cannot promise you that I will not shed tears over this.
But have I shown you much beyond a smile this week?
I will be ok.