Grieving Old Me

Things are well. Still plugging away at both books. Got a woman who is interested in helping me get them published, as a book agent. I was happy that she took to them so much. It's really important to me to be aligned with people who see my vision for both works, and recognize the women they would serve. One book is technically "finished" although I've got some work to do to go back and plug in more information to support my thoughts. The other work is only 12k words shy of my goal. I just learned that my one of my favorite writing holes is closing, and I'm pretty devastated. I actually walked by today and saw a note on the door that said that they're relocating from my favorite area. I mean, I have plenty of other places to write, but that's not the point!

Anyway, today was Thursday, a.k.a. therapy day! My therapist is an absolute godsend. Dr. B has undeniably become one of my favorite people, always asking me questions to help me dig deeper into why I feel the way that I do. Today, I'd mentioned again that I'm 7 months out from my last physical encounter with a man. My dear doc wondered if I considered myself a sex addict, and wondered why I felt it necessary to count the time of my abstinence. She encouraged me to continue to process my feelings, rather than simply sweeping them away, explaining that in processing, I give my brain the chance get away from the old, and fully embrace the new.

I explained that I definitely am not a sex addict, but historically, I thoroughly enjoyed being connected to men who are well-sought after. I love that connecting with men is no longer my main focus and that I am able to focus on myself and my goals (such as finally finishing 2 books that I've literally been working on for almost 4 years now).  Counting is simply my way of celebrating how long I've been free of the perils of a relationship, and learning to embrace my own womanhood, on my own terms.

I feel myself entering a new era. I'm entering a space where I'm prioritizing myself. And while I celebrate this woman, I'm grieving parts of my past. I'm grieving people (yes, even my relationships with some men). I'm grieving my ability to fall into toxic previous patterns, as a method of coping and self-soothing. I'm grieving how naive I used to be. I grieve those relationships I used to value, even though I readily realize that they were never good relationships, they were just familiar.  That version of Malika is dead and buried. I don't know who this new Malika, but I do know one thing.

She don't take no mess.