Everyone keeps telling me there are no rules for grieving, but I still feel like I'm doing it wrong.
It's only been just shy of two months since Mr. B died, and I am (mostly) back in one piece. The events of the last five months have faded, almost to the point of seeming unreal.
I keep poking myself (mentally, you pervs) searching for signs that I'm kidding myself, and that there's still a big wad of something festering inside that I haven't gotten to yet.
I'm not finding it.
I keep coming to the conclusion that I have reached a pretty good perspective on my relationship with Mr. B, the good and not-so-much. I am at peace (most of the time) with the fact that the rest of my life is not going to go the way I thought. How one phone call in June changed everything.
Oh, I still have bad days, but they don't hurt as bad or last as long. Sometimes I still feel gypped, but it no longer comes with the side order of blinding rage.
I feel disloyal admitting that I'm doing OK. It hasn't even been two months, for fuck's sake! I should be in more pain. Shouldn't I still be in more pain? I keep looking but it's not there.
What's worse, I keep going back to the dating site (not match.com this time). I find myself looking for profiles that show originality and wit (and, I admit, decent grammar). It's quite a challenge, believe me, but that's a post for another day. At first I really was looking for Mr. B, but now I find myself wondering what some of these guys are really like. Still don't have a desire to act on it, but is it really OK to look?
I dunno. It doesn't seem right, somehow. But that doesn't seem to stop me.
It's really hard for me to write this because so many of my twelves of readers know me personally and most of the rest knew Mr. B, but I feel I need to be honest about this process, 'cause otherwise, what's the point?
I still feel like I'm doing it wrong, but I can't figure out how to do it "right" and still be true to myself.