Therapy

I worked some stuff out in therapy this week. I think a lot of where I am, anxieties etc, boil down to the fact that I mourn you like a partner. Which is what you were to me, affair and all. But being the Other Woman, I am not allowed to mourn you as such. I wanted to choose your funeral music. I wanted the final piece to be the Star Wars theme. I wanted to be up there at the front, openly grieving along with your family and friends. For fuck’s sake, I wanted to fucking go to your funeral! But instead I am shut off from the world, desperately trying to hold it all together, trying to mourn but not feeling that I am allowed to, wanting the world to understand but not wanting to upset anyone.

I told you I wouldn’t be able to go, or grieve properly. You brushed it off. Another “I told you so”, SM.

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