I really don’t care and I’m not just saying that to appear cool and to convince you I’m over it.
There is far more to life than mourning what was and could have been, especially if one is honest the former wasn’t all that fabulous. A fantasy weaved from the need to fill a void and belong be loved and wanted and the happy ever after we are sold.
l paid a high price, too high and lost myself and almost my sanity. Someone l barely recognized a pale shadow of my former self. How I miss her. For years l refused to look into mirrors, l was afraid of what would be staring back, a stranger who had taken over my body and mind.
Now I am no longer afraid. In spite of the grey hairs and ageing face which catch me off guard, last time I checked l was a pretty little 20 something and adored.
Not sure where all this is handed except to say happiness is not dependent on the fairy tale ending.
Love yourself. l will always remember a dying friend giving me this advice. Now l feel ashamed l was crying in front of her about my divorce and she had such compassion whilst shouldn’t it be the other way? l will survive the broken heart but she won’t her cancer.
l always find the idea of self love rather uncomfortable and narcissistic. After all are we not brought up to put others first and be martyrs in training, particularly we women, nurturing is in our genes.