This is a prosaic companion post to “Unmaking“.

That post was about learning to not love somebody I chose to adore for years, and how surprisingly easy it was, once decided.

This is about recovery actions and acknowledging some of the sadness.

After I decided we were done, I went to yoga classes every day, many of them yin yoga.  I received Thai massages two weekends in a row, asking the therapists to work specifically on the left upper trap where I hold rejection – no idea why, it just goes there and sits there.

I made sure to rest and to be on my schedule.  More or less.  Lots of reading in bed.

I went on a hike with strangers.

I spoke with friends.  In one conversation, I showed one example of your little rejection to a friend.  He looked at that squinting for so long, I thought he needed glasses or something.  Then he finally asked: “Who does this guy think he is??  Is he texting this from a yacht in LA, a gold chain down to his belly button and all?!”  No, you definitely were not.  And yes, I have an idea where you were texting that from, physically, mentally, emotionally.  Still, that was pretty funny and helpful to hear.

Somewhere in the middle of still grieving heavily, fortuitously, my work sponsored a one day retreat to a beautiful place for a women’s leadership group (I barely qualified).  I arrived there without much enthusiasm.  I left the next day supported and energized by many wonderful women to whom I got a little bit closer.

I went to therapy.  That was probably that helped me decide to pull the plug, as the counselor pointed out the extent to which I devalue myself, and because of that, tolerate the same.

Is that what worked?  All of that?  Some of it?  Was all the pre-grieving counted?

Now, I feel mostly serene about the whole situation.

Still, I feel a little guilty about leaving you in a bad place; it probably wasn’t all about me.  But then again, you chose your behaviors rendering moot my offerings to alleviate, stand by, whatever.  You didn’t ask.  I offered, time and again.  Enough.

I am a little sad about the loss of intimacy, emotional more so than physical.  (see “Nothing” for more on that).  That was rendered hopes and phantoms lately.  No point holding on to.

I dread that maybe I am unable to…  Dread comes with being human though, doesn’t it?  I can do my work.  We’ll see.  Not entitled to the fruits of the labor.

It’s OK.  All is well now.