I'm ready for this thread to lock. Part of me wonders if I should just stop posting.
This has been a hard week. I don't know why. I can't seem to do anything this week. I took the day off to get my papers done and I just sat and looked at the blinking cursor in Microsoft word all day long. Not one word. *sigh*
I guess I'm in mourning.
As expected, W emailed. I can always predict when I'm going to hear from her based on how I feel. She wanted to ask a favor - pick up something while she's gone - and then tell me about a trip she's making to see some friends of ours. Whatever.
I wish I could tell what's going through her mind. I feel like she isn't being truthful to herself about how this has played out. And it annoys the crap out of me what some of her friends have said to me. This has been months ago, but 3 different ones have said, "She told me about OM, but said it wasn't a big deal." WTF? Would they be that nonchalant if it had been their husbands who had said they'd slept with someone else but it was no big deal? Again, whatever.
Anyway, I'm in mourning. I realize that this is part of letting go. I realize that she probably is so focused on work that she won't make this realization until she starts trying to establish a serious R with someone else. She's running. She is happy to rely on herself alone and not be responsible for being in a R.
And that certainly is one avenue. Being in a mature R is hard and takes compromise. She was never willing to compromise or show very much empathy. But I don't think she wants to be alone the rest of her life, though she keeps saying that.
bottom line - I know I'll meet someone else and the R will be like night and day. I'll suddenly realize that, while I may not connect in the same way or so overwhelmingly, it means a lot when one person is as committed as the other in making things work and in voicing concerns so that happiness in the R is preserved. Or at least attempted.
I don't know. this is a crappy post. Dont feel like writing or thinking. blinking cursor on a Word doc.
