I love my therapist. I would marry her if everything was, well, different! She’s a good listener (obviously), kind, funny, empathetic, able to dole out an “atta boy” or a kick in the pants where warranted.
Wednesday we teased out the perfect analogy for this divorce scourge. It’s a car accident. I was blindsided and thrown from my car. I was unconscious for several months. I woke up in the hospital and wondered who did this to me. What happened?! How much time had gone by? Are the bruises, broken ribs, and extreme weight loss who I am now? The memories flooded back, and a second wave of pain gripped me so completely, they must have put in an induced coma. I woke up calmer next time. Now how much time has passed? What’s for breakfast? Who’s taking care of my cat? What’s going on outside my window?
Do I even care?
I think I do.
That’s where I’m at.