Shit

I made it most the day. Then on the way out of out suite of offices for the day, our sentinel secretary innocently asks me, 'What are your plans with Arielle and Katherine for the weekend?'. At which time, I promptly burst into snot and tears. Shit.

Hope plummets

It is late.  And I hate this.  And I am thinking thoughts that I should not think...about him.  About him doing the things he did with me with someone else.  And I have to allow myself to feel this.  Because if I don't feel this, I will not get through this.  So, I accept it.  The best I can.  My heart feels leaden, my cheeks are cold from the tears.  I accept it.  I visual it.  I acknowledge it.  I recognize it will happen.  He will use the same lines..."...you will wear a skirt and I will slowly draw circles with my fingers up your thigh."  He will kiss her.  He will feel excitement and horniness.  He will feel an expectation for someone that he no longer feels for me.  I accept this.  I release it.  I release it.  I release it.

Eff

I texted him that I had his stuff at my house.  And he responded.  Now he is coming to get it Sunday.  I'm an idiot.  Yes, I know I am an idiot.  I am not sure that this knowledge makes me more or less of one...or if there is only one solid way to be an idiot to begin with.  Either way, I am an idiot.

But today - I feel happy.  Ok, if not happy...at least hopeful.  I went to an Al-Anon meeting last night.  I found hope there.  I listened to some music.  I found hope there.  Everywhere I turn, there seems to be a little more hope coming.

Now, I am not fool enough to believe that this feeling will last.  I am sure I will drop to the pits of despair and desperation many, many times before this cycle is over.  But for now, for this moment, I am enjoying my hope.  I am allowing it to settle over me like a light mist, gently covering every exposed nerve and emotion I have on display.

Baby steps and 9:30am

Yesterday at work, I closed the door of my office to cry pitifully into the sleeves of my sweater (my office is always cold, even when it is 99 degrees outside) at 9:30am.  It is 9:32am today...and I have not cried.  Progress.

I might want to start actually working at work again soon...my job is my livelihood, after all.

No Calling or Texting, right?

I have made it through 1/2 a day at work without contacting him.  And I made it the first hour and a half without crying.  Progress. 

I want to reach out to him so much.  I tell myself that I just want to check in on him and his daughter.  I just want to make sure he is ok.  But I have to take responsibility and know that part of the reason he is NOT ok is because of me.  And I also know that it is more than me wanting to check up on him.  It is me not wanting to lose the bond and the connection to him. 

I have set a goal of no romantic relationships for 1 year.  I don't want this heartbreak again.  I want to be able to stand on my own and to know that I will not crumble if someone doesn't love or accept me.  And I want to stop crying at work.  This is getting embarrassing. 

I do miss him, though.  Everyone tells me that I just miss the thought of him.  But it's more than that.  I miss HIS presence, not just a presence.  I miss HIS voice, not just a voice.  I just want to call him so bad.  Just once.  But just one drink landed me in the ER.  I'm afraid if I start, I won't stop.  And then I won't get over this heartache. 

Stupid Self-Destructive Cycle

I just purchased a book called "Six-Word Memoirs on Love & Heartbreak".  Today, my six-word memoir reads: "He broke up with broken me."

It hurts.  Bad.  The kind of hurt that makes you physically double over as though the rest of your body can somehow protect your heart.  I bought a lot of self-help books.  I've called a lot of friends.  I've closed my office door to keep the world at bay.  Right now I am just getting through every minute because everyone says that time will make it better.

He wasn't that nice to me.  He was actually quite critical.  He was amazingly stable.  He was genuine.  And for reasons that I have yet to uncover deep in my psyche, I fell head over heels in love with him.

Even though it is unhealthy, I have lived this last week as though he might come back to me.  If only I am better, if I only I can be less broken, if only I can be more independent, if only I could make him accept me the way I accept him.  That's a lot of if-only's.

I'm not sure what stage of the loss-grief cycle I am in right now.  But I am desperately trying to burst out of my pink bubble and float down to reality.

Reality is:
I lied to him
He doesn't trust me
He doesn't love me
He does not want me back
We will never be a "we" again
I cannot take back anything that I did

Reality is also:
He had tantrums like a child
He took more than he gave
He is demeaning
He is critical
He is gone

Reality is also:
I have a beautiful daughter
I have inner resources
I have a stable job
I have friends
I have God

And quite importantly at this juncture, I can realize that my brokenness can be reassembled into a beautiful, colorful mosaic. "If only" I try just hard enough and let go and just not try at all, as well.