I slept for ten hours. From roughly 3pm to 2am. I woke up, phoned a friend, and sooked some more.
However, today is Monday. I have things to do at work. I’m eternally grateful for a full-time writing job. It demands that I focus in ways outside of my ordinary thought patterns.
I told the team of boys that have been holding me up all weekend that my approach to dealing with this from here forward is in one simple way: suppression.
I’m not going to “get over” someone who, besides my first husband, I split-second saw forever with.
For a flash, anyways.
So yeah. I’ll keep crying, only more quieter. I’ll keep pain on pages. My friends are concerned. I need to at least feign to shape up to help them relax.
I’m planning to fast this week, while I bang away at my book. Work is about to be busy and stressful, I’m looking forward to it. I’ll take anything I can get to whip my head back in line.
It’s getting cold. For the first time in my life, I’m looking forward to winter. I don’t want to see any sun, or feel any light. I would prefer to dwell beneath a grey sky, for a few months anyways.
After my divorce I used to take comfort in the belief that since my heart was broken, it couldn’t break again.
I stand corrected. This, in fact, has been worse – which is why I haven’t quite been able to navigate the whole coping thing.
Suppression. That’s how I move forward from here. With ten hour sleeping sessions, as required.