Finding The Joy

I was reading this book about getting over your boyfriend. Thirty days of things to think about and then do. I did a few of them today and I had already done a bunch of them without realizing, like putting all the stuff of your life together into a box and hiding it away. Don't throw it out or burn it because you might want it later but put it away. My box is under my sink. I had to clear out the stuff from my last ex-boyfriend first. I had forgotten it was down there.

Another step is writing down all the memories and activities you shared then come up with replacement activities. So like instead of talking on the phone (or waiting for that evening call) read a book in bed. Yep.

Another one is writing down the things you didn't like about him.

Another one is writing down all the things about myself that I value, that are important to me. The idea is to recognize what I need in a man. I did that today. I wrote down the things that I enjoy out of life, the things I live for. That helped. I wrote those things down while sitting on the Starbucks patio, my mug of a latte nearby and my dog not too much farther (with his rawhide).

I also talked to my brother last night who's been a big help. It's over. I'm moving on. This is my life, this is me, I can find the happiness in my world. I can open my eyes to the joy around me. He said it's not easy. For him (he recently broke up too) it has been a constant struggle, a lot of full breaths and sighs and looking around. He told me to try some yoga.

Another thing he said: two steps forward and one step back. I am finding the beauty. I have been able to laugh. I have looked around at my friends and smiled from the inside. I've got so many good people in my world. These people are helping me and they're also what I live for. But for all those moments strung together into good days, there are moments that tumble into a sinkhole. Everything feels wrong, it all looks wrong, I've got it all wrong. And then it slows down and I stop crying and I breathe and maybe fall asleep or smile a little. I get back up.

Everyone breaks up. Everyone feels this. It's ok and it'll be ok. I'll get better at finding the joy.

I Wish I Could Tell You

I HATE THIS! I MISS YOU!

I JUST WISH that I could TALK to you! That I could know you were hearing me. That you were still in my life, that I didn't have to take you out of my life to get over you.

I wish you hadn't wanted to be alone.

I wish that you had wanted to be with me as much as I wanted to be with you.

I hate

this.

I Don't Like Pinball Anymore

I'm so mad at you. I'm mad you left me. I'm mad that I can't talk to you. I'm mad that I don't want to think about of our jokes anymore. I'm mad that anytime I think of something funny that you said, I get sad. I miss you. I miss talking to you. I miss laughing with you. I miss walking with you.

We ate together as a group there. We had our fancy date there. We played pinball there. I don't want to play pinball now. It's too weird. I tried tonight. I wanted to leave as soon as I hit the first ball. We got coffee there and you talked about Aquaman. That's a Julie store. And you love BBQ--I never got to take you to eat BBQ. And we never ate on the cute patio of that one restaurant--remember the one we wrote down on that list? That list of things we were going to do together, just us? And we never went to Steubens. And we got ice cream at at that fudge place that time and you said it was cute that I took so long to decide. And there was that one time you told me it was ok that I take so long to decide, that you would wait for me. And that you would always come back to me.

It wasn't true.

I cleaned out my burners a few weeks ago. You did that for me. That was nice. And my two men? Yeah, it's hard sometimes just thinking how good you were with them and how you're gone now. The dog's got so much fur and his nose is itchy and you were the best about petting him and not getting tired.

I loved you so much. I still do. And it is so hard and I hate it and I miss you and I miss having you.

Today was my birthday. Today was really good. Until maybe 20 minutes ago when it was all too much, too many memories hit me in a row, too many reminders of what it was like when we were together. And now I'm crying.

I Want To Be OK

I wish I could be fine already.

I never know how I will feel. It does seem like I pendulum each day--Friday I'm great, Saturday I'm melancholy.

I want to be OK. I want to be happy.

I'm happy with myself. I find things to do. I took myself out to breakfast yesterday. I bought myself a new scarf. I went for a run. I took my dog on a long walk. I got a drink with my roommate. I chatted with new guys at the bar. I like trying new things. I like being on my own. But then I come back to my apartment and I look around the room and I look at my dog and I look at my scarf and my tummy's full and I don't know what to do because I'm thinking about that person who's missing. I don't know what to do because it suddenly feels like all the fun stuff is just filler to forget how lonely I am now.

I almost can't even remember his face. I almost can't remember what he looked like standing right in front of me. It's been a few weeks since I saw him. It's been a few weeks since I heard his voice. I don't think I want to be able to imagine him in front of me. I think it would hurt too much.

I want to be over it. If I have to be over it, then let's get there as fast as possible. I want to be OK.

Pancakes

Tonight, I miss pancakes. I miss dancing. I miss hand holding. I miss coffee with cream. I miss his towels. I miss his extra blankets. I miss his hand on my hip.

Tonight, I miss Modelland. I miss high-fives. I miss sushi. I miss his head on my shoulder.

Tonight, I miss the lisp. I miss his voice. I miss his words. I miss his laugh. I miss his smile. I miss his arm around me, on me.

Tonight, I miss waiting for him. I miss expecting him. I miss calling him. I miss the drive to his house, the walk to his door, the standing in his arms. 

Tonight, I miss imagining us together for a long time.

Tonight, I miss what I had. I miss him.

Tonight, I really miss him so much.

I Lost Him

Nope. Nope. No. Over. Done. Ended. Finished.

Shit. Shit...

Shit.

Loving him a whole lot wasn't enough. It never is, is it?

The roller coaster of recovery is already in full swing. I veer between arm-stretching, hopeful freedom and breath-catching despair that blurs my vision.

I really, really, really loved him. I loved him in a way I hadn't loved anyone else. I adored him. I respected and admired him. I was his and only his.

Losing him, living the moment I had dreaded and hoped would never come--the moment when I understood I could no longer call upon him--that moment opened something in me. When the worst thing that can happen does indeed happen, well, there's a feeling of freedom with the pain. After all the snotty heaving and tears and pitiful, self-indulgent weeping, there's the relief that it's done. The worst that could happened already happened. Maybe I was trapped, too--trapped by my fear that he would leave me. Trapped by the fear of heartache.

He was so good to me. He made me laugh. He made me smile. I longed for him. I trusted him. I loved his lips and his eyes and his stomach and his arms and his legs and his sweaters and his watch and his cereal. I loved how he bought and kept things at his apartment just for me. I would see him and just want to take him into my arms and shove my face into his neck. I loved talking about him and thinking about him and being next to him and hearing him breathe and hearing him laugh and watching his face after he kissed me and reaching my fingers out to take his fingers and feeling his nails and my hand into the crook of his arm when we were walking around and feeling like I'd finally found someone I could be happy with for a long time. It was a good thing, what we had.

I hope that he gets better. I think he will. And I'm terrified, absolutely and utterly terrified to have to wait and hope for another man to come around who will be as sweet to me as he was. It's scary to be alone, isn't it? It's scary to love and lose and trust that you will love again.

But you know, coupled with the fear of the unknown is the excitement. The exhilaration.

So yes, moments of sort-of-happy excitement of potential and shiny newness... and moments of blinking and deep breathing and shaking my head side to side to keep from smushing my face in my hands and wailing, I miss him. Because I do. And I won't stop any time soon.