First, a word of thanks. In going through this, I've learned just how much people care about me. Even people I’ve never met expressed empathy and support. I believe that positive thoughts have the power to heal, and I am grateful for all of the good energy sent my way.
I accept that our relationship is over. I don’t want him back. I haven’t maniacally checked my e-mail, and I’m not waiting for the phone to ring (ha!). Most of the time, accepting that a relationship is over is the hardest thing for me. Perhaps the one positive thing that I can say for my ex-boyfriend’s appalling method of breaking up with me is that it killed the love I had for him. It’s done.
I’m satisfied that I did my best to be open, loving, and supportive. From the moment I met him, I knew that I was taking a big chance in loving someone so different from me. Still I loved him deeply, and I know that in his way he loved me too. I gave him a really big chance after he begged me not to leave him when he really let me down once. Part of me is kicking myself, but I’m glad that I was forgiving. I was open and unguarded, and I think that is a beautiful thing to be able to say.
Here's a rambling list of my life since last Wednesday at three pm.
I went to a party and didn’t bring down the room.
I put the things that remind me of him in a drawer to look at another day.
I deleted his phone number.
I’ve smoked too many cigarettes.
I went to Vermont with my family and had a good time. I took pictures of ridiculous toys and thought about nostalgia. I don’t want to go back.
The phrase “to cry as if your heart would break” has new meaning for me. My heart is broken. Something in me has died, and I’m grieving. It hurts. Bad.
I drank too much wine last night and listened to sad music. That’s the first time I did that since the breakup, and I do not feel compelled to do it again. Most of the time, I do this for a long time.
I got caught reading cheesy self-help at a bookstore.
I was pleased to learn that I have already been doing most of the things that the cheesy self-help book recommended.
He’s back online dating. Seeing that really hurt.
I wrote a closure letter that I’ll never send.
I’m looking for a drop-dead sexy pair of heels.
I’m still interested in my friend’s lives.
I checked out a hot guy in the supermarket yesterday.
I had a deliciously lazy Sunday morning of the variety that would have driven Ex-Boyfriend nuts.
I stayed out of the mall and chain stores (exception: the bookstore, but only because the local place doesn’t carry such crap). Ex-Boyfriend loves to shop. I don’t.
I loaded up the iPod he gave me last month for my birthday with Led Zeppelin songs. He hates Led Zeppelin.
I’m no longer with someone who said that Edward Abbey was a phony before ever reading him. Ex-Boyfriend is a member of the Green Party, and he’s never heard of Edward Abbey.
I thought about going back online to get a date, but decided that even if it was just casual that it would be better for me to get myself back together before inflicting myself on the world.
I don’t like Richard Ashcroft, and I think that the Verve was a third-rate band with one decent song. Now I don’t have to feel guilty about it.
I have cracked up saying that I know people on two continents who would kick Ex-Boyfriend’s ass. That won’t be necessary, but thank you anyway.
I’ve learned the phases “wedgie list,” “ass-hat,” and “Futhermucker.”
I made a hilarious Freudian slip (banana flambé—see story below, if you’d like).
I know what I’m going to be talking about in therapy on Thursday. My therapist is worth her weight in gold for all the help she’s given me in becoming a stronger person.
I’m not kicking myself trying to figure out what I did wrong.
I don’t feel a need for revenge, hilarious Freudian slips aside. The consequences of his actions in the world will be his own reward. For his sake, I hope that he gets some help. He’s hurt, and he hurt me terribly, but he is also a beautiful and unique person.
This isn’t about him anymore. This is about me.
I am going to be OK.