If you can apply the seven stages of grief to any kind of loss, including a relationship, then I think I ran too fast into all seven and was forced back to Stage 1 Part 2: Denial. I know it's over. I spent the last week nauseated and sleepless because it was like cutting off a finger accepting that everything is over. I dragged myself through the driest desert. I lost sleep to avoid painful dreams of sweetness. I bitched out whenever I spoke. And then I just applied my thin veneer and hoped the application would dry quickly.

But now denial is waving her sultry hand my way. I don't want to lose him from my life. I looked in all the bad places to find out how he's doing. I hated what I found. But I still have this punchy stubborn feeling to want him back. I know what stubborn feels like, but this is a new kind of stubborn feeling for me: Stubborn + Action. I want to say something so badly. I'm willing to be daring. I hate daring - being bold? That has always scared me. I rarely want to submit to that daring adventure seeking side of myself. I keep writing drafts of a message to him in my head but I don't want to be rash. Even under this bold spell I don't want to say the wrong things.

Side note: When I say "like cutting a finger off" I really mean willingly sawing or cutting off your finger. Taking a knife and going through with it, anticipating all the pain of never having that finger again.

Labels: We used to be friends.