A hurdle in finalizing the end of this marriage was overcome today. It’s good news. I want to put this behind me and it’s been held up since the spring.

My reaction was oddly wooden when I got the news, though. No huge sigh of relief, no tears, no smile. Nada.

I came home and plunked myself in my comfy chair for some mindless Friday night Netflix. Then I farted around on Pinterest and found myself in the quote section, searching for something that reflected how I was feeling.

That’s when I realized I’m doing it again. I’m not feeling. I’ve shut down.

That’s been my go to strategy for getting through life’s difficulties. If you can’t feel it, it can’t hurt you. So just don’t let yourself feel and you’ll be fine.

When my brother died, I felt so numb that I’d play Angel by Sarah McLachlan because the song is such a gut-wrenching reflection of him, it was the emotional equivalent to stabbing a fork into my thigh. It made me feel, if only briefly.

With this mess, I’m not at all surprised that I’m doing it again. Still, I got frustrated and angry thinking about this. Haven’t I learned anything? But where some people might pour a drink or plough into the ice cream, I put on my running shoes, blasted Bat Out of Hell on my iPod, and took off down the street.

As I passed the halfway mark and turned onto the trail toward home, Footloose came on and I smiled. I love that song. Flying along the trail I had a tiny sports high…you know that kind of euphoria that actually signals you’re going a bit too hard but still feels awesome?

Yeah, that.

And I thought, it’s going to be ok.

Somehow I managed to let go and feel again after my brother died. Somehow I learned to live with that big gaping hole in my life. For the life of me, I couldn’t tell you how I did it. But somewhere deep inside, some part of me must have the map, must remember the way out.

If I did it once, I can do it again.

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