Well while I'm here
I'll do the work.
And what's the work?
To ease the pain of living!
I was reading this (part of Memory Gardens -- Allen's eulogy for Jack Kerouac) last night, and thinking about the theory of "doing the work." Yesterday my therapist tasked me with acting "against my instinct." While this might sound counter-intuitive, it's designed to help me stop acting like a deer in headlights whenever I'm dealing with Matt. The demise of a marriage, especially when you're (I'm) not fully invested in it, has the unfortunate effect of making grown people (me) turn into babbling idiots. Yelling. Name-calling. Throwing of bananas. Evidently, this is not good for my image.
Therefore, I am now challenged with being agreeable. Being kind. Working smoothly toward compromise. Holding on to my integrity, no matter how hopeless and filled with despair I become.
Seems like a dumbshow either way.