and so the other shoe goes drop

Well, the day has finally come. I've been anticapating it for the last year or so, but somehow I still managed to be surprised at the thought that I will soon be Lisa M. again instead of the Lisa M.L. I have been for the last six years. The other has gotten a job out of state and rather than go for the Hail Mary, one final last ditch effort at making it work, we decided to just get all Nike about it and just do it. Yes, I am talking about the big D, the D that makes me a 1 out of 2 statistic. The weird thing is that I'm not having much trouble writing this situation onto some vaguely anonymous strip of cyberspace, but I have started and restarted an email to my friends and family and haven't been able to finish it, much less press send. So those of you that read it here and not from me personally, I just couldn't do it in a personal tete-a-tete kind of way. For some reason that hurts a lot more. Besides I don't know how many times I can listen to "Time heals all wounds" "You're better off" "Are you okay? How are you really doing?" "If you need anything, I'm here for you" before I lose my mind. Not that I don't want to hear those things, I think I can't hear those things right now. My wound is fresh, a gaping and glistening scrap of mutilated flesh. I know I'll get over it, I have to...but right now I want to get in bed, pull the covers over my head, squeeze my eyes shut, close my hands tight about my ears, and not emerge again until Spring.