I Know, I Know . . . I Said I Was Done

WHY, for crying out loud, am I still occasionally experiencing waves of sadness over the loss of a man who, when you get right down to it, proved himself emphatically to NOT be the type of man I would actually want to be with?! My brain is a fully functioning one, and intellectually I am over it, over him. But my emotional side has other ideas, and is apparently having a grand old time gracing me with bouts of weepiness and making me generally achy in the heart region. It is really quite annoying. I mean, if I had to make a list of things that would keep me from getting involved with someone, “cheats on pregnant wife” would be be WAY up there! Really high, and right next to “depraved indifference to the feelings of clueless ‘mistress’ and previously mentioned, cheated-upon, pregnant wife”.

So again, I’m asking . . . what the fuck is wrong with me that I still get sad about this!?!?! I do NOT want this man, or anyone of his ilk. I’m going to plead hormones. Does that make any sense? Or maybe it’s intermittent  bursts of insanity. I don’t know. My cousin’s theory is that he represents something that I wish I had. As in, it’s not him, it’s the idea of him. Which makes as much sense as anything, I suppose. It’s definitely not him specifically, I do know that. At least not anymore. And since he was clearly actively lying to me the entire time we were together, he was also likely lying in regards to his perceived “perfect-for-me” quality. So maybe it’s just as simple as I viewed him as perfect for me, due in whatever parts to both his skills in lying and my need to believe in the existence of a mythical “perfect” man.

Ok, that kind of makes sense. I’m really just still sad over the loss of said mythical, “perfect” man. Ha. Gosh, I feel so much better now!



Broken Hearts and Rainy Days

My heart hurts. I’m not thinking about it, though. Which is a lie. But I’m trying. I was doing really well, but I seem to have regressed a bit. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t such an emotional person. Maybe. I don’t know. I suppose you have to have the lows if you’re going to have the highs. I do love the highs.

I wish that I could turn my brain off sometimes, just to get a moment or two of peace. Beautiful silence. The voices in my head need to shut the fuck up for a bit, they really do. It’s pouring rain, or I’d go sit on top of my mountain. I might do it anyway, and just stay in the car. The view isn’t as spectacular, but it’s still there.

My heart hurts.

I’m Neglecting My Health

As I sit here eating my first and probably only meal of the day (a bowl of popcorn and three powdered donuts), it occurs to me that I am not taking care of myself very well at all. I almost completely stopped eating after everything happened, because I couldn’t keep anything down. There was a period of maybe two weeks where I existed solely on Pepsi and Zesta crackers. I’ve lost about 10 pounds, which ordinarily would be a good thing, but not when it’s accompanied by dry skin, dull hair and loss of energy. Not to mention the fact that when I am stressed, I scratch my skin, usually either my forearms or my scalp, sometimes until I bleed. An unpleasant image, I know, but I do. I don’t realize I am doing it until either someone slaps my hand away or I start bleeding. I’m going to end up having to trim my fingernails very short, that’s the only thing that has stopped me in the past.

I’d already not been to the gym for a week or so prior to the heartbreak, due to a nasty bit of sickness that my son and I kept passing back and forth. And I haven’t been back since then. I need to go. I’ve been thinking that for days now, but I can’t quite work up the energy to actually do it. At least the thought is there, maybe that is a good sign.

Maybe in addition to my goal of trying to have at least one positive thought a day, I should add in something like “eat a vegetable”. Or “stop drinking so damn much Pepsi”. I’d almost kicked the habit, but boy I sure jumped straight back into it when the shit went down. I’m terribly weak when it comes to Pepsi.

I’m very nervous about my impending interview. I need to go shower and get ready, but instead I’m playing spider solitaire. Not a productive day so far. I’m going now. It’s a phone interview, but I still want to be fixed up appropriately. Definitely nervous. Ugh.

The Waves Crash Over Me

For every moment of clarity, every small ray of light that I manage to drag to the surface of me, every moment where I think I might be doing better, there is, eventually and inevitably, a violent recoil that knocks me off my feet. It is a tangible thing, I can feel it happen, feel it hit me. Sometimes it is so sudden that I have no warning at all, while at other times I can see and feel it flying towards me, faster and faster, coming for me. I cannot escape, I cannot hide. I cannot stand against it. It forces me to the ground, drops me to my knees. It steals the breath from my lungs and the spark from my soul. And so I find myself curled into a ball in the corner of my sofa, crying like a child.

I’ve been trying to apply the technique that I use to help me deal with migraines, which is very simple. Just slow, steady breaths combined with visualizing myself floating safely beneath the water, letting the pain wash over me while I gently sway beneath the crashing waves. It isn’t helping, at least not so far. I feel physically battered, and I am exhausted. In all ways exhausted.

I have more to say, more thoughts to explore, but I can’t find the words. I feel blunted. Numbness surrounds and accentuates the icy pain that I cannot seem to make leave me be, no matter how hard I try.

I am fighting, I am. I can’t find me, but I am still here, maybe not standing, but I am still here.

Dammit, Dammit, Damn It All

Not a good day. Not at all. Today, right now, I just want him. I miss everything about him. The him I knew, the him I loved. The him that is lost, gone, not available, not mine, vanished. I can’t make my brain function, my emotions are definitely in the driver’s seat today. Damn. My heart hurts. It HURTS. I’m shaky and cold. I can’t keep any food down. I keep leaking tears everywhere, and it just fucking hurts. Such bullshit.

I want to know WHY? And there is just no answer to that question, no answer at all.

My heart is bleeding.

A Self-Proclaimed Master Manipulator

This post has been edited as of 11/10/11, see below. I’ve removed or changed nothing, merely added commentary and strikeouts. 

Earlier this evening, I found a Facebook message from him, that had apparently been sent this past Saturday. In it, he said that I’d been “caught in the web of lies of a master manipulator” and that he never meant anything he ever said to me, but used me for “pleasure without responsibility”. He also said that I had contacted his wife in order to tell her that he loved me, which either means that he did not read what I wrote or he is being deliberately obtuse. To be clear, I actually replied to his wife’s contact, which is a minor point but still worth mentioning. As for the conversation, I’ve certainly been over that whole bad idea enough in previous posts, and as I have painstakingly attempted to explain, at that point I was still trying to figure out a way where he could be a good person who made a major mistake. The only way I could manage to make what he did to me and to his wife reconcile with a mistake an otherwise decent person might make was if he did, in fact, feel about me as he repeatedly said he did during our time together. At that time, I felt that it was better for everyone’s future if he could be viewed as a good person.

Since then, I’ve been slowly and painfully coming to my own realizations about the state of his character, and with this latest contact I think I can safely put to rest my uncertainty as to whether or not he is a good person. The answer is “no”. Not only is he not a good person, I think . . . well, I wonder if he might actually be evil. I simply cannot wrap my mind around the type of person you would have to be in order to deliberately and systematically manipulate someone to the extent that he claims to have manipulated me. And then to create a Facebook account for the sole purpose of finding me there and sending me a message bragging about his skills as a manipulator? What the fuck? He was never on FB, and he has my address, emails, phone numbers, any number of ways to contact me other than creating an account to deliberately hurt me even more than he already has. Not that contact was even necessary. Clearly his only purpose here was to hurt me.

To say I am not doing well would be a drastic understatement. I wasn’t doing well before this, but now . . . I don’t know. I have a lot to think about, a lot to process, but I don’t want to think. I want to disappear. I don’t think I can do this on my own. I need help. My soul is screaming in pain right now, and I’d like to go to sleep and not wake up for a very long time. I think I might be in shock.

I’ll write more later. Probably. Or not. This is so beyond wrong and hard and painful. He’s going to do this again, eventually. He’s going to be bored in his life, and find another woman at a crossroad in her life, and he’s going to amuse himself by destroying her faith in human decency. Let alone her belief in love.

Edited 11/10/11 – I don’t want to completely censor things I’ve written, but I also have a strong belief in the power of words. I like his wife, she is a good and kind person who he’s treated extremely poorly, and I don’t want to inadvertently mess with the universal flow of things by making definitive statements about what he will or will not do in the future. I wish her nothing but happiness, whether it is with him or off on her own.

The same goes for the sentiment expressed below. I admit that the word I chose is perhaps a bit stronger than actually warranted, and I don’t want that negative energy following her around via her husband. 

Shame on you, Dan. My god, your poor wife. Your poor child! You are an evil and cruel man, Daniel Adrian Jimenez. Or Adrian Daniel Jimenez, since that was how your new FB account listed your name. Just one more lie, I suppose. We met online. Escritorio1978, that was his screen name. I imagine he’ll change it for the next victim, but in case he doesn’t, I hope the next woman is smart enough to Google him before she loses her heart.

I am too fucking stupid to exist. Gullible. Naive. Hopeless, hurt and bleeding. Too trusting, entirely too trusting.

It’s OK To Feel The Way I Feel

Maybe there are certain things that are fine to be sad about, fine to mourn, and certain things that are not. I don’t know exactly, I’m more trying to explore a thought here. Is it possible to separate what happened from the person who caused it? Is it possible to have a broken heart, to have a spirit and a soul which need time to heal, time to grieve, and yet NOT give more attention than required to the person who caused my pain?

I think I’m struggling with whether the difficulties I am having are giving too much, I’m not sure of the exact word I’m looking for here . . . power, significance, leverage to him. Him being a person who perhaps or even definitely does not deserve my care, my time, my emotional outlay. Although, it’s like there are two versions of him. The version I knew and loved, who inexplicably morphed into the cheating asshole version who lied to me, lied to his wife, generally behaved in a despicable manner. It’s like the evil him rose up and killed the him I loved, the him that was kind, considerate, funny, smart, passionate and loving. The man I loved no longer exists.  And yes, I know some would say that the man I loved never actually existed in the first place, simply because he was actively lying and omitting, but I don’t know that I agree with that. Reality is subjective. I believed him, loved him, trusted and respected him, and he existed in my life, in my version of reality. I think that is a reasonable thing to mourn.

Again, I’m not exactly sure what, if anything, I’m going for here. Just an aimless exploration of my current thoughts, I suppose.