The unthinkable has happened …

I am taking deep breaths, I am trying to find a brown bag to exhale in.

I am trying to get the screw top lid off the Chenin Blanc and it is 09h38 on a Monday morning.

Pepe has just had “the talk” with me.  She sat down on my bed, took my hand in hers, looked me in the eye, and said: “It’s not you, it is me. I need to start to see other people.  I need to start to go to interviews and look for another job …. please don’t cry………”

I picked up my pen, opened my diary, as it always looks composed in a situation of high stress and pending doom to check your dates.

It also gives you an opportunity to look down, so someone cannot see the tears in your eyes, and then you can doodle random shit in your diary along the lines of “Please help me, do not forsake me, please help me…” I find a rather soothing doodle.

Especially if you add a little doodle flower next to it.

So, Pepe has given me my walking papers.  I am trying to let her go with an open heart, and a smile – when in reality I want to scream: “Oh Gd please stay, please stay, love me, love me and stay, I will do anything, just stay……. I can’t live without you …. I won’t live without you …. I refused to live with you …. please for all things that are good and true stay with me….”

I hugged her skirts, and wept.  It did not help.

She needs a non-sleep-in job so that she can bring her daughter down from Zimbabwe and have her live with her.  Her daughter is 16, and she wants her here now – totally understandable.

I tried to be the bigger person. I tried not to have a full-blown panic attack. I am breathing.  I am drinking another cup of tea.

I am wondering how long the calm will last before I start having an anxiety attack.

So far I am just past the five-minute gap and am still counting my breathing through it.  My armpits are feeling a tad moist and hot, and I have developed a small river of sweat down my back, and my neck is starting to itch.

I am in stage one of my five stages of grief and loss.  Presently I am in “Denial and Isolation” … more on the denial.  But that being said, I have locked myself in my room with my dog, under the guise of having to work.

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