My exgirlfriend gifted me "The Artist's Way" for my birthday. I begun reading it on Saturday, with a terrible hangover, after a night out where I lost my only jacket, once again.
Before the weekend we had agreed to meet up on Sunday evening for dinner. It was especially cold and drizzling in Madrid yesterday, and I arrived to her house without a jacket. Before she could ask, I said the exact same thing happened as last time. She laughed and asked who I was breaking up with now. I sighed and said "perhaps with myself, I can't go on like this anymore".
She said, "You know, I had bought you another jacket for your birthday, but then I thought about it better and it could be misinterpreted, so I returned it and I bought the book. It's a shame, you would have a jacket now if I hadn't returned it".
"Oh thank god you didn't give me another jacket. I would have lost that one and I would be very ashamed, probably interpreting that as a sign that we can't be friends either, and that would be terrible. I'm glad you gave me the book and not the jacket".
She said "well, if I ever give you a jacket again, I will sew a written permission for you to lose it". We laughed heartily.
Friday night was so sad I didn't even feel the slightest inclination to write it down. At the same time I reflect back and I see I didn't hurt anybody, and I didn't hurt myself much other than drinking myself into oblivion. I made my way back home in one piece, just without a jacket and a hole in my pocket. What happened in between is what I feel disinclined to explain publicly.
So I took The Artists Way advice and wrote it down on my notebook, for myself, without chastising myself, a matter-of-fact account of the night, and I felt much relieved. Perhaps that's what I ought to do, to resume my private morning pages and use this venue solely for things that have been worked out rather than things I'm working out.
I'll give it a try. I already started this morning and I feel positive about it.
I'm so glad she gave me this book and not another jacket.