Still keeping on with reading the old emails from Mr. W. It's strangely affecting and often I will just start crying while reading them. Yeah, yeah...it's wallowing and you're supposed to not linger over the things you have to remind yourself about a person after a break-up. I think it's cathartic at the very least. There's something so not right about how I practically have an email a day to look at, but it's all just one year ago. Where did that person go? I don't know. And there's no answer as to a reason why.
I read some advice today about how to deal with failure. Don't see it as "Oh no!" but turn it into "Oh well." and move on. Slowly it becomes that to me as I get by day to day. The world didn't stop, things still need to get done and there's no collapsing in a heap o' grief. Just little time-outs for the misery to well up and then get right back into ... doing nothing.
The other night, I was out on New Year's Eve - about six-ish, not too too crazy to think that I could get to a local Petco and get a crate for the sick cat. Wrong. No businesses stay open I guess. Got to the door and immediately got a "We're closed dear." from a female employee. Nice waste of a trip, and I didn't even argue it. Guess I won't be back though. Nyah.
Walked down a few blocks to catch the same bus back in a fast round trip to nowhere. From my seat on the bus, as it maneuvered into traffic, I eyed someone on the street scoffing a Cinnabon cinnamon roll from a takeout container: god, I won't be able to have a cinnamon roll if I want one. The thought made me feel so regretful that this was life as a diabetic. No more indulgences, not unless you pay the consequences. Drat.