Earlier this evening I read a blog that was sad, sad, (double, triple) sad.
The writer (a working mother with an enviable full-time position) wrote post after post about her broken heart; the boyfriend she loved, the relationship that would never work, her pain, her sadness, the loneliness, the loss.
It got me thinking.
I’m not that sad about the break-up part of my divorce.
Yes, it will be sad to lose my house; for the kids not to have their parents together; for the loss of the potential that was there.
Sad about the break-up I am not.
Maybe it’s because we killed the marriage so thoroughly that the break-up part is a relief.
Maybe having my heart broken (mere minutes after exiting my teenage years) was so painful that I never since put myself in the position to be heart-broken again.
There was so much sad emanating from that grown-up woman’s blog over her grown-up sad, sad break-up.
Am I wrong to find that a little immature? How many times does a person’s heart need to be broken before they stop allowing it to happen? She mentioned she had an ex-husband. Was her heart broken then too?
It’s possible that my own heart was so hardened by the deep pain of young heart-break that I just can’t understand a grown person wallowing in love lost.
What do you think? A Shrink? And for whom …