Comedy, tragedy, or farce?

I feel like I have a Greek chorus following me around.

Typically, this Greek chorus would chant, “Lil’ Frankfurter peed somewhere in the house! And you just haven’t found it yet!”

But lately, it feels like the chant is more like, “Don’t! Don’t feel that way! Don’t want that! Don’t open yourself up to hurt again! What is wrong with you, you crazy bitch?”

It’s got a really lyrical cadence, don’t you think?

Basically, I’m processing the torrential emotional downpour that was my meeting with Ex-Wonderful last week. I’m just trying to feel my way through it. I’m not contacting him. I’m adding to my stack of letters written with zero intention of ever, ever sending them. And I’m trying to be still and listen.

But it’s hard. And it’s hard to tune out the “Ohmigod, that guy is such an ass! If you ever talk to him again, I will kill you!” diatribes. My favorite was, “Why’d you talk to him? That guy’s got real problems.”

I know I’m smart. I know I deserve good things. And I’ve gone through all the very-worst-case-scenario-ever scenarios, and they aren’t that bad. As in, I’m going to be fine no matter what – no matter if I never see him again or if we get married and have 17 kids. I. Will. Be. Fine.

Because I just am.

But in the meantime? It’s tricky to tune down the din of the chorus. But it makes me all the more appreciative of the kind, gentle folks who offer their love and support … and don’t try to stage an intervention.

Yeah, I appreciate that. Because I’m fine.

So, thanks.

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