Wednesday, being hump day and all that, should be the turning point of the week, don’t you think? Should rarely is, I find.
I went to see my Life Coach, if ever I were in need of direction . . .
We made a game plan, lists, and activities to ensure that I remained positive and proactive. We talked about the five stages of grief, and how I’ll be bouncing around those very stages for a while.
At the moment, I was in the acceptance stage. I had a positive mind set, I felt that I was moving in the right direction, and I thought I could handle picking up my belonging with aplomb.
I was fine until I began loading my boxes into my car. Then I was spitting mad.
Mad quickly turned to sad. I probably should have pulled over once the water works began, but I didn’t.