Shame and Letting Go

A friend recently spoke of me as being Low Maintenance, what he considers to be an attribute. I’ve been pondering this for days.

I find myself preferring alone to living with insanity, a respite to those who know me. Should I be counting the days since my retreat like an alcoholic counts the days since the last drink? Is there a twelve-step program I should join to prevent relapse? Lord knows on my own I have fallen. It’s amazing how clear things become as I process my thoughts into concise words. One sentence at a time I will recover. I feel healthy: strong rather than weak. Will that make this time different?

It’s not what happened that last night that brought us to an end. This time I can say it was an accumulation; I am tired of living in fear. Before now I was afraid of being alone and now I am afraid of not being. Fear was my bottom. If he reads this he will say I’m crazy. I have to believe my liberation proves I’m sane.

Low Maintenance… Is that what they call this? Did my face turn red? Should I have smiled? Yes, no one needs to know.

If anyone asks I’ll just say, “The relationship had run it’s coarse.”