I’m letting go. I can feel it. And it feels like I could be losing something I’ll die without.
When I told my therapist this feeling, she nodded. She explained that I was as much addicted (not in love, like I believed) to my AH, as he was to alcohol. That was a very scary thought. I must say!! I had never realized I was addicted to him. Apparently, I had, still have, a very unhealthy definition of what love actually is. I had terrible role models and despite my claims to never be like my parents, I had become so much like them. In ways I could not see!!