Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Hanging in There
My heart is still congested.
However, work was good today and I could manage to keep a smile and crack a joke or two.
I know I still need professional help.
Today is the older sibling’s big 30. She has gone to bed. We are throwing a party on Saturday and DL is supposed to be the main organiser.
By the way, this coming Thursday DL and I will be heading into our 7th year anniversary.
Talk about seven-year itch.
I pray and wish that he would not call me or remember.
Please do not come rock my boat when I feel quite resolute this time.
I need professional help- I know I must be conceding that this is my limit because I never believe in seeking help or talking to a shrink.
I fear the confrontation. But the longer I wait, the longer I bear my pain that has insidiously killed my being.
I am blocking thoughts of DL, Fluffball and any other fond memories.
Just now, I deleted all my smses on my phone- from cute lovey dovey messages from DL to scintillating messages from Nano to sweet messages from Ted to all other miscellaneous messages.
A clean slate is how I should start on
I have denied that major restructure for far too long. No, it cannot be done in piecemeal. It needs to be done with a shake up.
I fear for myself and what I can be capable of doing to me.
So I sit on the tight seat, vacillating between my desire to launch into an outbreak and end it with DL once and for all (dealing myself with what could be a potentially lethal blow) and praying that he’ll never call and that somehow he too would have telepathically caught on our own cues and too decided to call the whole thing off by drifting to a fade.
My heart is still congested.
However, work was good today and I could manage to keep a smile and crack a joke or two.
I know I still need professional help.
Today is the older sibling’s big 30. She has gone to bed. We are throwing a party on Saturday and DL is supposed to be the main organiser.
By the way, this coming Thursday DL and I will be heading into our 7th year anniversary.
Talk about seven-year itch.
I pray and wish that he would not call me or remember.
Please do not come rock my boat when I feel quite resolute this time.
I need professional help- I know I must be conceding that this is my limit because I never believe in seeking help or talking to a shrink.
I fear the confrontation. But the longer I wait, the longer I bear my pain that has insidiously killed my being.
I am blocking thoughts of DL, Fluffball and any other fond memories.
Just now, I deleted all my smses on my phone- from cute lovey dovey messages from DL to scintillating messages from Nano to sweet messages from Ted to all other miscellaneous messages.
A clean slate is how I should start on
I have denied that major restructure for far too long. No, it cannot be done in piecemeal. It needs to be done with a shake up.
I fear for myself and what I can be capable of doing to me.
So I sit on the tight seat, vacillating between my desire to launch into an outbreak and end it with DL once and for all (dealing myself with what could be a potentially lethal blow) and praying that he’ll never call and that somehow he too would have telepathically caught on our own cues and too decided to call the whole thing off by drifting to a fade.
