I've learned a lot this year about dealing with loss, but it still isn't easy.  At one point, I started to despair because my heart felt like flypaper, sticking to whatever touched it only to be shredded when pulled apart.  I really didn't like that metaphor because of the trapping connotation, and what I finally came up with instead was Velcro, particularly the soft half.  (Or maybe a piece of felt.)  When the right piece comes along, then it can serve its purpose, but it's easily shredded and dirtied, so I have to protect it.  I still remember the discussion we had in group two years ago about guarding my heart, which doesn't mean never giving it away: it means protecting my ability to give and receive love.  And that does entail being careful about my attachments, especially when I am isolated, burnt-out and particularly prone to clinginess--also known as the last eighteen months.  But it also means continuing to practice love, knowing the risk I run of codependency and taking steps to mitigate said risk, because there is simply no other way for me to live.