Last night, I was lying in bed waiting to fall asleep and thinking about this mess. Several people have suggested I write about it, and I am constantly reminded about how much better I feel about things when I process them that way. But there are many problems with writing about this.
For one, it's personal and painful. I don't want to portray Chris in a bad light, even if many of my champions would argue that I have given him enough consideration. Another problem is that I like my blog to be funny, and I'm not finding much of this funny. Well, there's some gallows humor. Another, more ridiculous reason is the perfectionist in me wants to show the whole story- to start at the beginning. But the other night, lying here and listening to the radio, there was a long piece of music that served as an intermission and through my dozing, I decided that this piece of music had crawled out of the radio and marked an intermission in my own life. This is me right now, waking up out of a fog and wondering what the hell just happened. That last chapter contains as much as I was able to say; it looks short, but it felt very long. I felt like the ice cube stuck in the bottom of the glass.
Thank you, satellite radio and sleepy Jenny, for identifying a place to start, or maybe continue.
No comments:
Post a Comment