And that really sucks.
It’s a lot like breaking up.
On the Five Stages Of Grief scale, I’m alternating between “I Hate Your F*^&*@# Guts!” (deleting them from my phone, looking for some possession of theirs I can destroy) and, “Why Don’t You Want Me As A Friend Anymore?” (Much. Crying.)
It’s good to have other friends now, friends who read the emails I write them and say, “It sounds like you’re in the dark place. Please call me when you’re in the dark place. You don’t have to go there by yourself.”
It’s also good to have a coach, who teaches me tools to help me through my various life experiences.
It’s not so good to be a coach though, because then I just pound myself with so many “shoulds”. “You should be over this by now.” “You shouldn’t be so upset.” “You should’ve known better.”
So it’s good to have a coach who will step in and take the tools away from me temporarily. “I feel like I gave you a shovel, and instead of just having some fun digging around you tore up your whole yard,” she said to me. Actually it was more like she gave me a shovel and I used it to beat myself into the ground.
Now I’m on “Self-Help Restriction”. “You’re grounded from using any tools until the next time we talk,” was her verdict.
I can’t wait for this week to be over.