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I have become very aware of my own bullshit.

Even as I am doing the things I ought not to be doing, the voice saying “Really Sarah, all the information you’ve been given, and this is what you choose to do with it?” is becoming louder and louder by the day.

I am still capable of ignoring it.

And ignore it I shall.

I am stubborn like that.

Even now, typing these words, knowing what I am going to say. I know in my heart of hearts it’s all bullshit and I am writing it anyways.
My motherland (the USA) is on fire and in turmoil. And here I am writing some dipshit blog post about tinder and dating and feelings and shit.

I feel trite and ineffectual.

Maybe that’s my super power.

Gloss over everything with quarts of high gloss primer. Make everything shiny when it’s rotting underneath.

I am not rotting, I get reborn to often for that. I am a snake girl chasing my own tail.

Shedding skin over and over but doing the same old things with my new self.

Like I said, HYPER-aware of my own bullshit.

But honestly? I cannot deal right now. I want some distraction and maybe some of you do too. There are no words that will stop a neo nazi from hating someone based on the melanin levels in their skin. And if there are? I don’t know what they are.

There is no logic in this place.

So now for the thing that has nothing to do with anything at all…

After the chaos of last week I went back on tinder. I needed attention and distraction.

I am a realist about it now.

It’s a sea of catfish and fuckboys. Good thing I like fuckboys. And I am getting better at spotting the catfish. Not perfect, but better.

The goal is to find the least offensive fuckboy and enjoy until I have to throw that one back too.

That isn’t really the goal but it’s where I am at.

There is no turning a man whore into a house husband, and I don’t know if I even want to get married.

I want to be happy and feel good. Get laid by the same guy on the regular while having good dates and good conversation. That’s it that’s all. No fighting, no drama, no lies or secret lives. Just show up, feed me tacos, fuck me good and make me giggle once a day or so with a good meme.

I am not saying that’s all there is. I am sure there is more to life. But I like my little life as is.

At the behest of my besties I tried a date with someone my age. He was sweet and kind and a gentleman and there were zero sparks.
I’m pretty sure he felt that way too as we haven’t communicated past both of us getting home safe in a thunderstorm and a couple likes on Instagram.

I wondered actually, pre date, if I was doing some sort of weird 360 back into my past wherein I only dated guys my age or older. Considering I hadn’t felt alive at all until I ended that cycle of my life, maybe going back there isn’t the best course of action.

I know I need to be learning. I know something has to give and that something is me. I know I am the common denominator.

But here I sit. Talking to yet another young un and smiling a lot in spite of myself.

4/7 haven’t ended so bad.

Statistically just over half went well.

This is what we call optimism, blind faith, hope or sheer stupidity. We shall see. Jury is still out on this one.

I have learned from all of them. Lessons on motherfucking lessons.

I pulled 4 guys off tinder. Sent pics and bios to the girls. The 2 that made it through the screening process were the adult and… my choice, “the one who looks like sex walking”.

Sex Walking continues to pleasantly surprise me with the quality of conversation. Still haven’t met yet. Might hate him, might not.

Insanity is indeed doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. But I kinda like the results of my choices and my behavior, until I don’t, then I leave. And I’m not doing the EXACT same thing over and over, I keep learning every day. I modify, grow, and change bits here and there.

I’m fine tuning my behavior instead of swinging to either side of the pendulum. Wiggling around in the middle ground and I kinda like it here.

Maybe that is what the world needs more of too. Less radicalism or its opposite, non-involvement.

Something in between. Self-awareness, tolerance and a willingness to try in spite of all that came before.

Cue the Friday night fight.

I think he may have mistaken me for one of those girls who gives a shit.

I don’t care what he was doing when he isn’t with me.

Ya, the whole ‘you are mine’ thing threw me off.

But don’t boys get possessive with their toys?

And a lot of this is on me.

I can’t remember jokes except not jokes.

Lemme explain…

Two guys walk into a bar, you think the second one would have seen it.

Maybe my inability to remember and regurgitate a punchline, other than like the one above is indicative of how I have been treated.

I know something funny happened but I can’t recall.

Like the Friday night fights. Didn’t ex hubby used to pick fights so he could r-u-n-n-o-f-t and blame it on me?

There it is, the punch and the line.

It’s not funny but it’s true.

And aren’t thieves the ones who lock their doors?

Wait, that isn’t right.

Methinks the mister doth protest too much. When the guilt surfaces and comes forth as anger.

Fuck, I’ve done it. Everyone has. Feel bad about something and throw a Mexican wrestling mask on it.

Let’s get ready to rumble.

Oh honey,

I may have mentioned that I don’t know how to relationship. I don’t.

And that statement gets truer and truer by the day.

I asked you on our first date why you were single. Wish I hadn’t.

I always thought I would make such a spectacular army wife. Able to handle absences, I crave airport kisses and reunions, I write better than I speak.

But I was wrong.

I need you here and I am too scared to ask because of what happened with the last girl that asked.

I think that if I tell you I need more you will say ‘okay bye’.

https://www.facebook.com/foodaaliizoou/videos/vb.1265944773496133/1378584972232112/?type=2&theater

If you love me let me goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh.

More like if you love me, let me know. I ain’t waiting around to find out and living on scraps anymore.

There was no love here.

Just an insurance policy called keeping Sarah’s pussy in my pocket because I am scared to be alone.

I wrote the above in the time called before.

Before my hand was forced and I was the one who had no choice but to say ‘okay bye’.

Before I knew he had been living with his girlfriend the entire time we were dating.

Everything explained by a girl I had never met and only knew of in a past tense. She is his present and we have no future. I don’t think we ever did. Another Peter Pan lost boy picking Wendy over Tinkerbelle.

Unlike the wee sprite, I won’t die from lack of attention, his wasn’t that good anyways unless I was with him and he was all in. That is now explained also.

I had him to myself on rare occasions. Very rare.

I knew there were other girls, like I know the sky is blue and that I will run out of milk once a week or so.

I didn’t let it bother me, instead taking the path of perseverance.

Which in retrospect looks like martyrdom for a bullshit cause.

Should I stay or should I go?

Personally? It is always a war when I am forced to ask myself that question.

I must have been in one of those conquering armies that managed to succeed in starving out some fortress, and eventually called it mine. That isn’t a victory really, conquering something by wearing it down to the point where they have no choice in there delirium, in their hunger and defeat.

But love isn’t supposed to be a war. The war is outside and I want to be safe, at home.

I sat in an empty parking lot last night and cried a lil bit as the sun finished setting.
I haven’t driven anywhere alone in ages and I needed it I guess. That safety and sanctuary of being self-contained and alone.
Peter Gabriel’s cover of Heroes came on and I sang loud and off key as my voice cracked and tears came.
I drove the rest of the way home and another song came on that took me back to another parking lot moment, but a really good one.

It reminded me, I get low sometimes.
But it doesn’t take much to get me high.

Talked to Gelfling last night.

Actually drove by Wolfling’s, the old house of Hulk and Giant’s street. Pulled over. Cried a bit. Contemplated talking to them, decided against it and then for some weird reason picked Gelfling out of my inbox. Probably because he is prone to vanishing mid conversation and I did want to handle this alone without exhuming the dead.

I wanted to deal with it on my own. Starve out my own doubt. Not go running backwards when my future gets upheaved. And honestly, Gelfling is the king of leaving me hanging so it seemed a safe bet he wouldn’t answer.

But he did.

I asked for him to say something nice, and in his, he surprised me, pleasantly.

But here’s the thing.

The vexing maddening thing that makes me want to scream and pull my hair out.

They never really fucking leave, but they don’t exactly stick around and love me either.

One of my girls posted the following…
I don’t know where my boyfriend is.
He’s just not answering any of my phone calls or texts all of a sudden, I didn’t know where he is, I still don’t. I’ve been worried all night. I wish he would just tell me what’s going on and not keep me in limbo. I feel sick to my stomach and haven’t slept….
So…fuck I feel pretty shitty. Not knowing is the worst and keeps me up.

PIC commented
If you don’t know where he is, he’s not your boyfriend.

PIC has this uncanny ability to cut through bullshit with a magical machete.

There is a backstory here. The boyfriend of the girl who posted this is a bonafide piece of shit. This has been going on forever. They’re either fucking or fighting, he keeps a revolving roster of girlfriends that he is either fucking with or fighting with.

She will quit him when she is ready and not a minute sooner.

It is the way of the world.

Me personally?

My ‘not’ boyfriend?

After 5 days and now 3 blog posts.

I am over it.

I sat in my grief and knew from experience that at some point in time, I’d be over it. So I just decided that time would be now. Or in truth, Wednesday night around 8:14pm after a hit of Charlotte’s Web weed. That shit is like a magic eraser for those nagging voices of self-doubt. I got the giggles and it turned off that chattering of voices that were screaming ‘you weren’t good enough to be the actual girlfriend’.

So fucking what? Look what he did to his actual girlfriend. Bullet dodged.

I’d settled into a bed of lies and deemed it fine.

In retrospect it wasn’t fine.

No one mourns the loss of a tumor. You cut that shit out, keep the wound clean and go on living.

Honestly, I am fine now.

No amount of wishing or regret or pain is going to make him into something he isn’t

He’s not my person and he never was.

Grief doesn’t have to be a process, and suffering is optional.

A male reaction to my last post…

Yeah if a guy doesn’t have the balls to be honest with either girl up front like an adult… then he doesn’t have the balls to deal with his own conscious telling him this is wrong every day. Because every day he’s asking himself, how can “I” keep this going? He knows he can’t, yet he expects or assumes that since he’s gotten away with it so far that he’s favored and is drawn into the addiction of letting fate work it out for him. At this point he’s so far stuck up his own ass, that he’s forgotten just how much he’s also affecting the lives of two other people. This is where pride becomes a sin.

Is it pride?
Yes.
Pride alone?
No.
Greed, gluttony and lust are in there too.

I have my own pride driven thoughts about what happened too.

I kinda get it.

If I had access to fuck me, I wouldn’t say no either.

And I know I wasn’t myself with him. Too submissive.

I am beautiful, kind, loving and understanding. I made no demands of him whatsoever and never fought with him.

She’s a fighter and has every right to be.

He used to be so strict with me about no conflict, but he also chose to with the one who fought with him.

Men say they want peace but I don’t think they know what that word means.

Goes back to the dead deer analogy…

Men will sit in a tree, sweating, getting eaten alive by mosquitoes, sleep in a tent on the hard ground for a week just for the chance to shoot a deer. And if the get one they gloat and show it off like they found the grail and their dick grew 5 times its regular size.

Put that exact same deer on their doorstep dead and they want nothing to do with it.

Hunting instinct.

Ladies, don’t be a dead deer on a doorstep.
(Sherry Argov)

He asked me to send him detailed lists as to why I liked him.

And I did it, even on that last day around 1pm I did it.

I know what it’s like to be torn down, so I build others up.

He never returned the favor.

When you add the truth and subtract the lies, he wasn’t a terribly good boyfriend.

I bought all the excuses as to why he couldn’t see me, reveled in the constant daily attention I did get via text and IG and just assumed he had gotten hurt in the time called before so his heart was guarded.

In light of recent revelations, I don’t fucking care.

Whatevs.

His behavior is in my wheelhouse of things I’ve been through and he knew it, and he done did the exact same thing to me anyways.

I had a moment on the porch with Panda, we were smoking, and the loop in my head was ‘I can’t ever talk to him again’ in waves, just pounding at my psyche threatening to tear my sanity apart.

I said it out loud and she said “I know”.

For a minute there my angst became a sharpened dart aimed at her.

How could she be so flippant about my horrible truth that I was barely brave enough to admit out loud much less accept in any way? I was still bargaining then, ‘well maybe if he…’

But there are no words in any language that can atone for this, and I know it. She knows it. Everybody knows.

Here is the upside.

I get to wake up in the morning and be me.

He has to wake up and be him.

I cannot imagine how insecure someone has to be to be that dishonest with two women who loved him sincerely.

I get it. He has that high school jock/bully mentality wherein he takes what he wants without consequences. But high school was 10 years ago and there is a thickening occurring around his middle and a thinning occurring up top. He has another 2 or 3 years where he is cute enough to get away with this shit, and I think he knows it. That former glory he clings to is fading.

I don’t wish him any harm. However, for his sake, because I did care about him once. I wish to bestow the gift of self-awareness and honest reflection.

What better place than here, what better time than now. RATM

This too shall pass, it always does.

Fingers crossed for a crazy ex.

What in the actual fuck is wrong with me?

I entered the bargaining phase of grief.

I laid awake last night and realized what I was doing, knew I couldn’t let it go until I knew something, anything and I was selfishly proactive.

Maybe I do have an iota of self-preservation after all. A really tiny iota, but an iota nonetheless.

So, ya.

I posted an article last week about the ‘newest trend in dating’. It’s called cushioning.

It was met with a rousing chorus of ‘no, that’s not new, people have been doing that for a millennia’.

I am in an arguing mood, so I am going to argue semantics.

Once upon a time I was queen of the monkey bars as far as dating goes. Not letting go of one relationship until I had a firm grip on the next. Not classy by any stretch, but I think cushioning is worse.

Actually, I fucking know it is.

In contrast, cushioning is having one or several human pillows to land on should one let go of their current relationship.

Tomato, potato. But still.

It’s disgusting to use people this way. No actual commitment or effort, totally selfish.

It’s the easiest thing in the world now. Someone likes a few of your pics on Instagram, a few harmless messages back and forth and suddenly it’s full blown flirting and you haven’t disclosed your relationship status.

Just in case.

Here’s an idea. Just keep that hoe phase going until you are sure you have it out of your system.

A lot less human collateral damage is created when people tell the truth.

We all need to be telling more of the truth.

Or, you could do what my ex did, make a profile on Tinder, meet me, date me, demand exclusivity and all the while living with the supposed ex-girlfriend.

I have somehow graduated from being the side-piece/coleslaw in this scenario and turned into a queen-sized mattress that he’d land on whenever he felt like it or they’d fight.

Ew.

Fuck.

I am so much better than that.

The actual girlfriend in the scenario messaged me two days ago.

Yesterday I stated I was not going to engage with this woman. And then the anger wore off, the sads hit hard and bargaining reared its ugly head.

He responded oddly to my queries. Accusing me of talking to her in the time called ‘before’.

No honey, I dumped you for being a bad boyfriend, because you are a bad boyfriend. I figured that out on my own and promptly forgot it when you came back. My bad.

Soooooooooo, whatchoo on about now?

I did not know this woman.

I didn’t even know of this woman until she messaged me on Instagram.

I hate hate hate when I do girly shit. But I caved.

I unblocked her and said “I need answers, can we speak as adults.”

I watched Panda bond with the girlfriend of her vacation dick guy that asked her to go to Thailand with him. And I watched it fall apart when he knocked that girl up a few months later. At least Panda got answers and closure. And just maybe, being a dad will help DaveDave keep it in his pants. Unlikely, but maybe.

Speaking of dads and Thailand, I never reached out to the Muay Thai Fighter, nor his fiancé when I found out he was engaged the entire time we were together because we both made it clear it was a temporary, summer fling. To say something to her would cause harm, without doing any good. Condoms were worn, no promises were made. If properly motivated I can justify anything so just let me have this one.

I spoke with a few of the Poet’s harem of pretty girl writers, but that got painful for me, as I realized how much I gave him and how little I got by comparison.

Every time my ex-husbands mistress approached me as an ‘adult’ she just had a mouthful of wasps and lies, carefully calculated word wedges. It was stupid on my part to look to her for comfort, or anything really. Nothing she said ever changed the fact that ya, he was cheating. And not just cheating but having a full blown emotionally committed relationship on the side.

That’s the kicker.

And now I am dealing and reeling in the truth that I was that girl to someone else.

As the giant in Twin Peaks would say…

It’s happening again.

I dated and waited faithfully for a full calendar year for a man who lived with his girlfriend.

And here is where the bargaining came in…

How in god’s name did he ever let me in the house?

She managed to explain that. A few well-timed fights wherein she moved out for a week or two. So he’d make me dinner instead of trying to patch things up with her. Seems legit right?

The texting me all day every day while he was working during the week and the predictable Friday night fights wherein I wouldn’t hear from him again til Monday morning.

Sadly, for both of us. Neither one of us is the crazy ex. She’s the current, with rights to be there and I was an unknowing interloper. Once again, I am Sarah, daddy’s dirty little secret, nice to meet you. Fuck, enough already.

I won’t say we bonded. But we were kind to each other. Answering each other’s questions as thoroughly and gently as possible.

And now I know.

Apparently there is something about my personality that attracts men with gaping black holes for egos, that suck in all of the light, indiscriminately and without remorse.

It’s not the first time.

(Giant, Jesus, Muay Thai, and now Lumberjack, ya that guy.)

Let it be the last.

Take me to some galaxy far, far away from the event horizon before I get sucked in again.

My arms are tired from holding onto nothing.

I don’t want to be a cushion or coleslaw.

I know there is a huge chance she is going to vilify me if she decides to get back with him, and honestly? I am fine with that.

I know, had he come to me as an adult and explained the situation I woulda said ‘boy, bye’. And I know how she feels.

If making me the bad guy or anything I said to her today helps her sleep at night, I am fine with it.

I’ve hit that drama-free point in my life.

Not everything happens for a reason, but everything can be learned from.

I’m still learning.

The Lion’s Gate opened early this year. 19 days early to be exact. There’s that number again. Black 19.

Seems there was too much spiritual awakening to be contained. So be it. I am up now. Second coffee.

The breach occurred on the new moon in Leo a few days ago. It was all about giving up fantasies.

Apparently I neglected to do so.

I once wrote “the moment you think you are cursed, you are.”

I are.

The good news is, I think it’s my own doing, so I can undo it too.

Once upon a time I dated a guy for a year. We split in the middle for a bit. But 6 weeks later he moseyed back into my inbox and we picked back up like nothing had happened. We spoke practically every day. He claimed me as his, I thought he was mine. Made some promises about fishing and movies. We had good dinners and phenomenal sex. I met his sister and loved his dogs. I didn’t see him much, I was kinda in a relationship with a ghost in my phone, but I deemed him worth it and waited. It was still more attention than I was used to.

I wasn’t just blind, I was willfully blind (AHS)

Until I got a delayed message from the universe in the form of an actual message from his actual girlfriend.

And it seems that I although I was (one of) his. He was never mine. They were together before, during, after and still apparently.

I didn’t engage, I just blocked her.

We will just put this on a list of things I didn’t need to know.

The bubble of any future possibility is broken though, so that’s a small kindness.

I refuse go to war for something I cannot possibly win, and don’t want now.
This isn’t my fight, hasn’t been for some time.
I don’t think it ever was.

I keep thinking I am doomed to repeat the same patterns, but maybe not.

I spent 7 years married in another fantasyland, wherein I thought I belonged there.

I didn’t, and fighting didn’t make it so, it just made me miserable.

Now my girls think I should educate this woman. Tell her what I know.

Nah.

She knows enough.

And now, thanks to her, so do I.

Ex hubby’s mistress used to flood my inboxes with fuzzy, sneaky sleeping selfies, screenshots and the like. It’s tacky and rude. And it hurt me.

I don’t know this woman. I have no quarrel with her. Like I said, I knew something was rotten in Denmark and I stayed. That’s on me.

In fact, my entire life is on me.

My decisions, my behavior, my reactions. That’s kinda how I got here.

So, permit me this small trip to fantasyland once again, wherein I actually did speak to this woman.

Here is what I would have said.

Oh honey.
I don’t know you, but I have been you.
Paranoid enough to go through my man’s phone. Angry enough by what I found to message strange women.
It’s not a good place to be. Trying to get some control over your life by sending texts to some girl.
Sorry, but you picked the wrong one.
I don’t negotiate with tiny blonde terrorists who seem to know their man is cheating and continue to call him ‘my boyfriend’.
I can tell you that this behavior of yours is unbecoming, not sexy and pretty fucking rude.
I am not left wondering why he wandered, and again, I don’t know you from Eve.
I can tell you that if you actually love your dude, you have to love him as is, and according to your messages he seems to be a bit of a man whore.
You gotta love that too.
There is no changing people.
Trust me, I’ve tried.
I can only control my reactions and here they are…
Go back where you came from.
Stay out of my inbox with your problems.
Maybe get a little therapy, try to have a nice life and stay the fuck outta mine.

Lucky for me, I have built a solid life of my own.

I don’t need ownership nor attention from any man to be happy.

It isn’t in me to cause pain to anyone.

I have had enough drama for this life and the next.

“I may not be a smart man Jenny, but I know what love is.” Forrest Gump

Unlike Forrest Gump, I am a smart woman, really fucking smart actually, I know a little of what love is (finally) and I DEFINITELY have a PhD in what love isn’t.

I’ve been so close to love I could touch it and taste it and I’ve been so far off the mark I might as well have been on Jupiter.

I do know what tough love is and I’m about to dish some of that up, with some sprinkles and a cherry on top.

One of my girls said “but I’m in love with him” while also describing some pretty shitty behavior by her SO.

It took a lot for me Not to scream ‘no you fucking aren’t’.

My tongue is still bleeding, all over this post.

Instead I said “when you are ready to hear my opinion, let me know. I will try to be nice.”

I see a lot of myself in her, my old self, the sad self that clung to men for some semblance of self-worth and identifiers I hadn’t yet created on my own. She has one main identifier and he wants her to quit it, it is taking a lot for me not to get on a plane and go get her.

Ever hear that saying that the things we hate about others are reflections of the things we hate about ourselves?

Ya that.

I wish we had some kind of hive-mind-Borg capability, like the telepathic part in our brain would reactivate instead of lying dormant so I could just reach out to her and she could feel what I’ve felt. Saying ‘I know how this ends and it’s ugly as fuck’ is not enough.

I do know how this ends, and it IS ugly as fuck. She is overlooking ALL the clues, subtle and blatant for a delusion she’s created.

And of course I can sit there and say this, because I’m not in it.
I can see clearly what he is doing. Read his body language in their selfies, hear the words coming out of his mouth without putting a filter on it.
But when I look at my own relationships, the rose-colored glasses come on and I can’t see red either.
I had a man tell me I wasn’t allowed to love him and my initial reaction was to be stubborn, dig my heels in and stay. It’s too late, it already happened.
Luckily my voices of reasoning and self-preservation showed up in the night. Maybe their flight got delayed, who knows. But I woke up and saw the truth. Either someone broke his heart before or he was born without one. Regardless he didn’t have love to give me. Attention and affection, sure, but not ultimately what I want and deserve.

I pulled way back, to the safe place and regrouped.

I have my Buddha on the mountain top, wise woman moments. I’m fairly Zen. I accept my flaws and try to work with them or around them. My fragile heart that used to be made of not-quite-dry papier-mâché is now made of safety glass, so when it does get smashed it hurts less. We call this progress.

I have also accepted and embraced the idea that we can’t change people, we have to love them as we find them. The flip side is we can chose to love them from a distance. I do a lot of loving from the safety of way over here.

I’ve also realized there are so many kinds of love. I used to be addicted to that fiery-passionate-fuck-or-fight all the time “love”. I abdicated that throne and moved over to being the Sovereign Queen of Settling, that old married feeling after a few months. Neither one suited me.
So I stopped.
I spent 4 years alone realizing all of my accomplishments were my own and I could’ve done a lot more had I comprehended that truth sooner and cut loose the dead-weight of my plethora of exes.
I love being alone so much that even though I’m with a good partner now, I still crave it often.

Gimme Agape, an adulty, pure kinda love mixed with some eros. Agape is defined as selfless, uncomplicated and unconditional. Without angst or pain.

I mean if agape was the only kind of love we had, we wouldn’t have any semblance of art as we know it. No one wants to read books or listen to songs about coming home and just feeling calm and good. I sit back now and listen to music about unrequited love, or crazy passionate love and I shake my head and think ‘you poor fucker, I hope it gets better for you.’

The friend in question? I want to shake the baby. Pull a Cher in Moonstruck, slap her and say “snap out of it”.

Actually, truth be told I have a few girlfriends, myself included, that are clinging to mens that are not their person. But only one of us is across the international dateline getting treated like shit.

So listen.

You don’t love him. You love the idea of him. Your biological clock is ticking so loud you can’t hear the truth. He doesn’t love you either. Which is no fault of your own. He doesn’t know you because you don’t know you. How do I know? Because I was you, I know you and I do love you.

You are fooling yourself, ignoring relationships with your friends that are reciprocal (because we do know you and love you) and you are wasting valuable time and money on something that is going to go down in flames when he carelessly tosses yet another match at it. You are the only one who is going to get burned.

He is not your person, come back to your real people and regroup.

I am the eldest of the group and I can tell you, we only have so much time in this life. I would give anything to go back and escape every minute I have spent pining over my idea of who someone was. Take off the blinders and see what is actually happening instead of seeing what you want to see.

Please just come home.

Author’s note

Almost everything ends.
When it comes to romantic relationships I believe the mourning period is extended by a secondary kind of death.
The loss of the future you imagined with this person.
By lying to yourself that there is even a future there, that is a slower even more painful death, that can be avoided with proper treatment. Like pulling your head out of your own ass for starters.
Plucking out my eyes and handing them to her so she can See what is actually happening isn’t feasible.
Good news is that looking at her problem gave me new eyes about my own.
There is no happily ever after for me, for now and that’s fine. I’m good with what I got.
I think a huge part of the mourning process in break ups is dealing with the things that didn’t happen…the wishes you made on behalf of someone else.
The universe doesn’t work that way.
Build your own solid life before you invite someone else in.
Create your own happiness withing yourself, otherwise it can be taken away from you.
The end.