Lately, I don't write as much, because I don't need to. My days are no longer consumed with thoughts of how to get out, or how to get away, or how to rebuild my life from the ground up. I suppose that is the gift of 8 yrs of separation from the narcissist. The spell is finally broken. Ding dong the wicked witch is dead. And the flying monkeys have moved on to their next target.
I've now been back East for a year. My mother is dead and I'm trying to move forward with my life. Why has it taken so long?
I'm getting closer to being ok with being alone without a partner for the rest of my life. And while I'm not totally there, yet, I'm at least getting closer. Almost resolved to the fact. I don't actually think there is somebody out there for me. Why should there be? Not everyone gets that. And some days, I'm ok with that.
