And I think it IS enabling to an extent when we allow the one who chose to walk away to hold on to the "nice" pieces of the life they walked away from.
I'm reminding myself that in the end this is about spending time with a dog.
You're still detaching Frank. You're still in the process of de-coupling. You really don't need to get caught up in these kinds of matters, no matter how seemingly simple or trivial.
It's not unkind to simply reply "no" to a request that goes beyond a kind gesture that you chose to offer. And yes, I do think that in de-coupling properly (healthily) there are times that our response to a situation could be construed to be bitchy. But you know what? That's too bad.
You have yourself to think about.
I know you're picking up on the rather consistent responses to your ponderings about your wife, what she's thinking, and what it all means. I'm not sure that you've yet accepted that continually analyzing every last detail of every last interaction is nothing more than an ice covered road for you. You slip, you slide, you get stuck, and you spend a lot of what must be frustrating time trying to find a way to just wish the ice away.
Bit by bit, row by row...at some point you have to let go of her and stop wondering/worrying/caring about what goes on in her head.
One summer, many, many years ago, I decided that I was going to read An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser. I knew it was considered somewhat of a classic, and I thought it would be good for me to read some classic literature I guess.
That was the most god awful, agonizingly boring and tedious book I ever read. I thoroughly detested that book. But I read every word from beginning to merciful end. And all along I kept thinking, "I can't wait till this book is DONE, so that I can start a NEW and BETTER book."
Aren't you about ready to start a new book Frank?
Blessings,
Bill
"Don't tell me the sky is the limit when there are footprints on the moon."
