NOT sending a letter

This is sort of a continuation of my last post.

One of the things I don’t like about myself is my capacity for stupid obsessions.
Ever since that phone call, I’ve been obsessing. It wasn’t going away or getting better. In the comments, Monday’s Child suggested that I allow the fantasy to play out.
That sort of made it worse.
Yesterday, it was even worse.
Now, logically I know that this is just a way for my brain to distract me from other things I need to be doing or from the fact that I’ve (almost) failed at something.
I posted on Facebook that I was mad at my “diseased brain”. One of my friends, another math teacher who has been a long-distance mentor, posted about my brain not being diseased. We then had a private chat where I told her some of the background information.
She said all the right things. And I know all those things.
He’s a liar; he’s a manipulator; he’s not worth my time and energy.
I know.
But knowing that doesn’t stop my stupid brain from running the fantasies.
If I squash it during my waking hours, it shows up in my sleeping ones. If I try to consciously redirect it to where I’m beating the crap out of him, it still keeps running back to reunion scenarios. If I don’t find a way to fight this, I know where I’ll end up – depressed and anxious.
Last night, after chatting with JF, I pulled out my affirmation notebook and wrote a few simple positive affirmations to try to clear the psychic decks.
By the time I was done writing three affirmations twenty times each, I felt like writing something else.
I wrote a letter to him.
Six pages.
Wow.
I had no idea I still had six pages of stuff to work out about him. I haven’t written that fluently in years.
It has some bitter-sweet stuff, some anger, some pity, some sadness in it.
But there was a theme through all six pages. His lack of respect for me came through very clearly, maybe more clearly than I’ve seen it before.
When I was done, I felt . . . empty. 
I have no intention of sending this to him. It wasn’t for him. It was for me.
Maybe now I can actually get some work done. 
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Posted in fear, journal

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