Call me morbid, call me pale

My ex-not-boyfriend has informed me by voice mail (because apparently he's too afraid or fragile to actually TALK to me. Go figure--and he's the one with the fun, new relationship) that he wants me to become a "good, whole person."

Which must lead me to the conclusion that currently I'm Half a Person. Or maybe just a bad person. The suggested solution was therapy so I can deal with the "pain of life" and be happy for him, as he would be happy for me if I found someone I wanted to be with.

I don't think I need to comment at length about the facile relativism of the last statement. Too easy a target.

But because I do at least try to consider criticism offered by friends, no matter the spirit of defensiveness with which it's offered, I thought maybe I should get a therapist. The thing is, I pretty much know my weaknesses and the ways I try to deceive myself. Maybe having a therapist would hold me a little more accountable, which would be a good thing. Because everyone lets themselves slide a bit. We're our own worst keepers.

The thing is, I believe the best way to deal with the "pain of life" is to feel it intensely in the moment--not to shy away or distract myself and put it off until later. Sometimes you just have to feel like total shit for a while--a day, a few weeks or months. Eventually the frequency of feeling like shit decreases.

And even when you feel completely lost and maybe like running away, you remind yourself that your center is nearby. It's just out of pocket for a bit, soon to return. Being a whole person means you can endure be destroyed for a little while.