Ups and downs

Right after he left, I was in denial. I called him, hoping he would come back like he always did after we fought. But he didn't. I wept.

The first full day was excruciating. I wept all day, and I tried to convince myself that I understood why he needed to see what else was out there, and to understand what that even meant. I called him again, but he couldn't answer any of my questions. He said he wanted to stay friends, because I was his best friend. And he was mine. I kept telling myself I understood, stopped weeping, and put tea bags on my swollen eyes.

My first day at my new job was the next day. My eyes were still swollen, I was exhausted, but I felt nothing. It was like my body ran out of feelings because I'd used them all. I didn't feel nervous for my first day, I didn't feel accomplished for remembering everything I learned in training, and I didn't feel like my world was crumbling like I did the day before. I didn't feel anything.

I went to his apartment after work to give him his things, and to get mine, still not feeling. When I turned to leave, and he hugged me. He started crying and talking about how much he was going to miss me. I cried once, and he cried hard and for a long time. He felt guilty. I told him I understood why he wanted out, and I comforted him. I told him he didn't do anything wrong, and that I would be fine. I told him I wanted to be friends with him, but I couldn't because I couldn't stand the thought of seeing him with someone else. I left after five hours of hugging him, and my emotions were still nowhere in sight.

Working was a wonderful distraction. I spent most of the next few days at work, and I worked on my school work at night. Three days after we broke up, I went to my sole friend's house to study and do laundry. I was fine until I drank a glass of wine. It was like the wine broke down the barrier that was protecting me from the grief. I couldn't cry there, so I just let the pain radiate. My friend's dog sat by me, like she could feel it too. I wouldn't be surprised if she did, because it felt like pain was seeping out of every one of my pores. I texted him and told him I would wait for him to see what else was out there. That I would be waiting for him when he was done. He told me he was busy, and to not think about it so much.

I woke up the next day and spent my hard earned money on clothes for my job. I was building a new appearance for the new person I had to become. For the first time in days, I felt a twinge of happiness. I felt in control, at least in this one aspect of my life. I felt hope that I might not lose my best friend. I didn't cry.

The next day was a Friday. My only friend was out of town, and I was alone. I felt more alone than I have ever felt in my life. He texted me and told me he needed time to think about what I said the day before. I spiraled, and I called him. I said terrible things to him. I wanted him to feel as badly as I did. Instead, he got angry. He told me he wasn't going to let me make him feel bad for being selfish. He admitted he was being selfish, but he didn't apologize for it. He told me all of the reasons he didn't want to be with me, and he said none of them were my fault. He kept saying he wish he could make me feel better, but he was never very good at that. We ended up catching up for the next three hours. Our conversation was the only one I'd had in almost a week. I felt better. The conversation ended when I started dozing off, and I sleepily told him that I thought we could be friends. He said I could call him to talk any time. I fell asleep happy.

I got a haircut the next day. My eyes were swollen, but I still had the remnants of our conversation to hold onto to make me happy. I spent the weekend doing school work and watching LOST. I went to work all week, and I started thinking about him less. I made it ten minutes after waking up yesterday morning without thinking about him. My friend asked me today how I was doing, and I told her I was feeling better. I told her about my plans for seeing my old friends in my hometown this weekend, about how I was going to see my parents for the first time since Thanksgiving. I told her I'll let her know as soon as I got my work schedule if I'm going to be able to go to a get together of all of our old friends next week.

I saw a picture of him on Facebook tonight. I called him. We talked about our week, and we laughed. Then I asked him if he had changed his mind, and he changed the subject instead. I cried. Not the way I was before though. Small, controlled tears. My hope is gone, but I've gotten closure now.

Now I need to stop talking to him. I can't bring myself to delete his number or to unfriend him on Facebook, even though I know I should.

I started writing down my thoughts on notecards and putting them away so I can revisit them when I have things I want to say to him about our break up. For when I forget why I ever understood his decision. I'm writing down the thoughts that replay in my head, the one that make me cry. Then I'm writing down the self-blaming thought that always comes after. And after that, I'm writing down his role in the problems. Then I write:

IT IS WHAT IT IS.

And a statement of how I can make my life better with what I learned from that thought. They all start with "I can...".

I can go to meditation groups, make friends with coworkers, in my classes, and with my roommate, and I can find a fun hobby.
I can make new friends who support me emotionally, because I'm a friendly, social person.
I can give guys a chance before I decide I'm not attracted to them.
I can make friends who will hug me, and I can find someone who will value waking up next to me like I valued waking up next to him.
I can find someone who makes me feel loved without me having to try so hard.
I can find someone who will love me without having to force it, and I can love that person without comparing it to how much I loved him.
I can be happy for him when he finds someone else, and I can find someone to make me happy.

And I can get over him.

delicious

Thank you for this. It gives me hope.

LostButFound, no problem. Writing it gave me hope too! It's easier for me to see that I've at least made some progress when it's all written out.