For the last three weeks, my emotions have been very close to the surface. While intellectually I understood what was happening, I swung between the abject fear of losing Greg entirely (which would never happen), and indulging a secret hope that, if I "did this right", he'd come back to me.
In between, I've been making lemonade: seizing the opportunity my Story gives me to be a compelling Poster Child for how to address issues related to mental health in the workplace. It's given me a Story about my journey through Grief which actually comforts me - it somehow gives meaning to my pain. And boy, has there been pain.
Yesterday, Greg (finally) left me a carefully composed letter laying out his feelings in detail. He told me he was certain about separating, that the marriage was broken for him. I read the letter several times, looking between lines, and really reading his words. Slowly, something in me shifted. I actually felt lighter. Ok, the decision has been made. Now we just need to have a plan to get there.
I realize that I do fine with decisions. It's indecision that cripples me. My brain is so busy trying to follow every possible outcome, explore every point of view, that it's exhausting. But now, I can lean in to my organizational skills, leverage my practical side, and at the end of my little Grief Journey, I will accept my new role as Greg's friend.
I am so glad that Greg and I are both exceptionally kind people. We'll get through this intact. Changed, but intact. And now that the Bandaid has been ripped off, I can get on with reclaiming my place on the left side of The Continuum.
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