This weekend has been a bit of an eye opener. I saw a psychic and it’s so silly but it made such a difference in my attitude. She was basically quoting DR to me while laying cards and it was one of the most validating things I’ve ever had happen to me. Detaching is getting easier and easier. I haven’t checked up on his social media or the phone bill in days and I don’t care to. He was gone for hours I didn’t panic. I miss him desperately in this bed at night but damn near every other time of the day, him and his whirlwind of crazy rarely take the forefront of my mind. I just feel more at ease. Less intense. It’s a good feeling.
As awful as this whole thing has been, and even though I still don’t know what the out come will be, this disaster is starting to feel like a blessing in growth for me. I’ve been waiting around for him for so long I forgot about me. I’ve been living in depression for so long I forgot about me. This has given me an opportunity to fast forward my recovery from depression. Jump starting my life has been huge in staying mentally healthy. But bigger still are the lessons I’m being forced into here. I’m A type. Painfully A type. And this have been one of the hardest exercises in patience and letting go that I’ve ever experienced. But approaching the challenge everyday has been one of the major things carrying me through this hit mess. I know with or without him I’m getting to the other side of this a better person.
