What if I don't want to get over it? What if I don't ever want to get to the point where it's OK that he's gone? It's not OK, and it'll never be OK. 'Cause it isn't. It's just fucking wrong, on all levels.
That's what my Inner Brat* is saying today.
She pops up from time to time, crossing her arms over her chest, pouting and stomping her feet. She whines a lot. She balks at things that any normal adult would handle without a second thought. (Key word there is "adult".) She's the reason I couldn't change a toilet paper roll for the first fifteen (twenty?) years of my first marriage.
I am not making that up. Yeah, she's got issues.
We've been working on them, especially over the past four years since my first marriage ended. We've made progress. It was hard, trying to sort through old shit while jumping into a new relationship almost before the ink on the divorce decree was dry, but we continued to hack away at the stack and even made some small progress.
However, she's not handling this latest crisis very well. I realized the other day that legally I am no longer married. Talk about a bitch slap! I think that's what got her all riled up.
One thing my Dear Counselor told me recently is that I need to listen to her. She's a valid (albeit slightly dysfunctional) part of me, and she needs to have her voice heard. She needs to be reassured. However, I have to admit, this time I think she may be on to something. I'm not sure this hurt can be soothed with a few pats on the back and pints of Ben & Jerry's. Although that never hurts.
Rest assured that Grownup Me knows that all the comforting things my dear friends IRL and in Cyberspace are saying are absolutely correct: Time will pass and pain will fade. Things will get sorted out and I'll find my way to the New Normal, rev. 4.0.
But it still won't be OK that he's gone. It will never be OK. And right now I can't imagine ever being OK with it.
* See the photo, top left sidebar? Yeah, that's her.