"What do you mean my parakeet died last week and I put it in a kleenex box along with some food and its favorite toys and buried it in the backyard?"
"What do you mean I broke up with my boyfriend of 2.25 years after three months of agonizing over the fact that I knew we had to break up?"
Because it comes back at you like a slap. What? REALLY?! As if you never knew it before. That rush of breath out of you. My parakeet's GONE?!?!?
But by now I am better. Like I said, three months of agonizing over it. That got me quite a ways down the recovery road though it was sobby-soggy-sorry mess inside it.
Here is some more evidence of my progress:
1. I have been rotating through former loves and lusts in my dreams. Re-dating, re-romancing, re-admiring. RE-ADMIRING.
2. I woke up two days ago dancing and singing after a dream that I probably can't explain but that was basically like passing through a gateway.
3. In a further feat of you're-too-skinny heroism, I dismantled the GIGANTIC wardrobe that came with my apartment that was crowding my bedroom and put it in the basement. Particle board. IT WAS HEAVY. I AM BAD ASS. And the whole time I was saying to myself, "I'm just going to get this GIGANTIC THING out of my LIFE and COPE WITH IT LATER." So much of what we do is a symbol for something we feel.
|THE GIGANTIC THING I JUST GOT OUT OF MY LIFE WHOSE REMOVAL I WILL COPE WITH LATER|
4. I just listened to "I Will Always Love You" on the radio and teared up in admiration of Whitney's beautiful voice. That's right. Just Whitney. This time, anyway.
(I don't have a parakeet. Anymore. No really, I don't have a parakeet. Anymore.)