The Aftermath

Having been through horrendously hard breakups quite a few times in my life, I sort of think I’m an expert on how I handle them and the stages of grief I go through. I’m not gonna preach about grief being a process but for me, I feel it strongly and it’s hard. Even if you know it’s coming, it’s still a shock when it happens. You feel like the air’s been knocked out of you. As a friend of mine said, your heart is like a sponge. When something like this happens it feels like the sponge has been emptied, wrung out for good, but slowly your heart absorbs the love around it and becomes full again.

Right now I’m in that horrible awkward phase. I keep expecting him to come home, knock on the door and tell me how much of a fool he was and how much he misses me. At this point it wouldn’t do any good (I think) I’d like to think I wouldn’t even consider taking him back if he were here asking me but I know myself and I know that I still love him so I can’t trust that I wouldn’t follow my heart in the moment. Later on, I might be more solid knowing I wouldn’t give into the more emotional response.

Still, I’m starting to get my appetite back. Today I’m even able to eat the cheese in my Lunchable. It feels good to feel alive, to have the basic instinct of hunger without the crippling stress getting in the way. Grief for me is like dying myself inside. When someone you love is no longer there for you, there’s no logical reason why you should survive that. When someone you love goes away every instinct you have inside of you begs to follow. When someone you love leaves, you don’t cry for them. You cry for yourself that you can’t go with them, that they aren’t there like they used to be. Even if they voluntarily leave you (which is worse in my opinion) you want what you know to come back.

I’ve had very understanding people around me lately. I spent the night at Kathy’s the night he left and Bruce spent a good portion of last night with me until I was ready to sleep. It was nice. He held me and we talked about nothing really. It was nice to feel normal. When I went to bed after he left I put in Memoirs of a Geisha, my comfort movie. I slept through most of it until I finally turned it off. My kitty has not left my side since it happened. He acts as if he’s never had love in his life. I think he doesn’t understand why daddy isn’t home with him anymore. He keeps pacing between me and the door, sitting for a minute and looking at it expectantly before rushing back to me when it doesn’t open. I don’t think he understands. It’s ok, kitty, I know how you feel.

I’ve updated all of my passwords, made them new. Checked on all of the bills and finances. Took him off “our” bank account. He finally answered the phone and let me know he’s ok. I suppose that’s something. Maybe from here on I can move forward and not feel like a part of me has been left behind. One day at a time, right?

Day 23 - 342 Day to Go