Feral Courage.
That’s what ChatGPT called my desire to get off of the Lexapro and face the world without it.
I said “I feel like I’m about to go tame a wild horse. I’ll go off the Lexapro and have full energy, kicking, screaming and running in circles. I’d rather have the emotions and the energy than the calm clarity at this point”.
I really like the idea of feral courage. I’m here for it.
I’m supposed to schedule a meeting to sign my separation agreement. After this is done, no more power, no more editing. He wins, he gets basically what he wants. The only way I would get what I deem “fair” is to take it fully to court. I can’t handle that emotionally or financially, though. So, I must let it be.
I guess I’m desperate for someone to see the scope and weight of this. That signing that document is like signing paperwork for a funeral, a death. It’s the death of a life. Even if I faked most of it out, even if I was emotionally checked out for 20 years, it’s still a huge chunk of a life. And it’s dead now. I’m just not sure how to handle this. It’s like I want to honor the death of someone I despised. Yes, he was a complete and total piece of shit, but… I still want a eulogy.
This seems to mark the end of the hardest part of this. That’s what it feels like right now. I’ve processed all the things, at least the Lexapro held my hand through it and now I’m about to be free of him.
I feel so alone, so tired, emotionally beat up… but I’m staring at a life that will be mine. Even if it’s completely feral.
