I have no idea what the title means…i have been scrubbing toilet bowls, floors, clothes, utensils— anything that can be scrubbed to scrub away some of the hurt. There is something therapeutic about manual labour…
And i revisit the different philosophies i used to love. I think what has helped me through this difficult time is knowing that i do not have to react the way i am expected to react. Maybe that is the rebel in me…whatever it is, i hope to find some solace in the fact that he is happy, that he has gotten what he wanted and knowing that, one day, i will be able to look back at this and think i have handled it with grace (obviously, since i so lack in grace, the one time i have shown a trace of grace, i need to harp on it so that no one misses this!).
Life is life- it goes on even when you cry yourself to sleep, or act overtly cheerful so my dear ones would not see my pain. Every now and then, i escape to some corner so i can paint on my mask of cheerfulness. But i like to believe that whatever has happened, it is for the best. I did not have the courage to let go- but he did. I do not need to paint myself as the victim or him as the villain.
