“I feel drawn to the word "unmoored" during this time. I look it up a few times a week. I stare at the definition on my computer screen. I love the example sentence Wikipedia uses, which says, Left unmoored, the boat gradually drifts out to sea. It pops into my head when I wake in the mornings, while I walk the streets, wait for the bus, the train, get into cabs, eat lunch alone, and browse the shelves at the library.” LoveWomenRelationshipsHeartache Book:Women Source: Women
“I become familiar with cold hard grounds. On a Friday night, I drink three too many glasses of wine and I call Finn. She makes no black humor jokes. It is not an erotic mess anymore, like Sabine once told me it was. The conflict and torture is not a sign of intelligence anymore, as Finn once told me it was. It is ugly. We are exhausted. Gutted. You're too hard! she yells at me. Be soft, she orders. I'm confused, I tell her. I don't know what to grieve. I can't be in a relationship with anyone, she says, so if you have to grieve something, grieve that. She says this strongly. She means it. When we get off the phone I am in fetal position on the bathroom floor, holding my heart, while it literally aches.” LoveWomenRelationshipsHeartacheDysfuntion Book:Women Source: Women