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.

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 Moment of Weakness

For whatever reason, I logged into my other account earlier today, the one I mostly used to talk to him, the one I deleted all our letters from. I wasn’t even expecting anything to be there, but there was. There was an IM waiting for me. I admit, my pulse raced, my stomach dropped and my hands went all numb and tingly, even though logically I knew it was going to be from his wife and not him. And it was. She wanted to know if I’d gotten the answers I needed from our final conversation. She said she didn’t know, because he’d deleted the transcript. There was something else about hoping I had what I needed to move on. I don’t have the exact words because it didn’t get saved for some reason.

I sat there and stared at it for a VERY long time. What to do? Reply? Delete? Cry again, because why not, it’s what I do anyway?

Ultimately, I replied. Smart? Who knows! Not me, I know that much. Here’s what I wrote:

I don’t know why I logged back in today. A moment of weakness, I suppose. I haven’t used this account since he and I talked. So I hadn’t seen this message, [her name]. I told him I would not contact him again, but perhaps responding to an overture is different, I don’t know or really care, to be honest. He’d said he was going to delete our conversation, but I didn’t actually expect him to do it. It went as I expected, with no answers whatsoever. He wouldn’t admit to having loved me and he wouldn’t admit to having callously manipulated me, even when I showed him the door to walk through. So I’m forced to make my own interpretations, and I’ve chosen to believe that he did love me. I’ve chosen to believe this not only for my own sanity, but because I meant what I said before. I want the man that I love to have what he wants out of his life, and he wants you and his daughter. Therefore, I want him to be a person who is worth staying with, and someone who is capable of genuine love is worth staying with. Someone who is a callous manipulator is not. So, for those reasons I believe that he did love me and he does love you. Anything less is unfavorable for my future, and for yours.

I am a fighter, and I am actively fighting to get over this entire experience. Hopefully unscarred. It remains to be seen if I will be successful, but rest assured, I plan to be. I’ve deleted everything he ever wrote to me, every picture he ever sent me, every song he ever said represented our love. It is all gone. Other, of course, than the fact that it is all burned into my brain, but I can’t do much about that. I’m assuming time will help. I even made a blog where I can wallow in my sadness and hopefully get it out of my system. I can write random things about my struggle to heal myself, and hopefully connect with people who have managed it themselves. I am fighting. I know you will be glad to hear this, and hopefully he will be as well.

I hope very much that you are making progress in your own healing. I’d love to believe that I was not indirectly responsible for a failed marriage. I wish you well, [her name], and him also. I’m still guilty of wishing desperately that things had actually been as he said they were, where you were just “the ex” and he and I were in love. I can’t be sorry for that, and I am trying to view it as a sign that I will eventually be able to love and trust someone again.

Now I’m off to spend some time with the one man whose feelings I am certain of, my son.

Again, I have no clue if this was a good idea or not. I’m kind of thinking it just is what it is. More neutral than anything. I’m not expecting a response, by any means. It did finally occur to me, from this contact and from remembering things she’d said during our earlier conversations, that she actually thought there was a chance he might “pick me”, so to speak. Or more specifically, not pick her, that would be more accurate. I hadn’t realized that, and I’m truly sorry that I didn’t make it more clear to her that that was not an option. I will not interfere in a marriage. Would I take him back, at some point in the future, if they are unable to fix things and a true separation occurs? Right now, I’d have to say yes, I would. But that is way more my problem, and presumably something that will pass as I recover from the damage done to me.

I listen to the jumble of thoughts in my brain, only a tiny, tiny portion of which are making it out into this blog, and I am confused. How can I truly want him to be happy, want he and his wife to fix their relationship, and yet still want him back? How can that even make any sense? I do see that most of what I want to happen, what I would make happen if I had some sort of reality-altering machine, is just fantasy. Magical thinking, things that can never be. I can’t alter reality, no matter how much I would love to do so.

I want him, love him, miss him. How do I get over this and still keep my belief in love and souls and destiny and true love intact? Is that even possible? I don’t know. I just don’t know.

Empty Days

I am lonely, and my heart hurts. The entire day stretches out in front of me, empty and sad. And in such stark contrast to how I used to spend my time. Us, together. Just talking. Joking. Being silly. Sometimes talking seriously about our feelings and where our relationship was going, sometimes not. It never mattered. I’d talk to this man about anything. He was just genuinely fun to spend time with. I miss that, so much.

I’m going to drive and visit a cousin I haven’t seen in a while, which will be nice. It won’t take my mind off of him, though. So far, I haven’t found anything that does. Seriously, I am open for suggestions. I am useless as a human being right now.

I Miss You

Our last conversation was Sunday morning. Afterwards, I sat at my computer and methodically deleted any and every thing he’d ever sent me, or I’d sent him. All the emails (letters, we called them, because according to him “email” sounded too small for what we were), all the chat transcripts, all the pictures, all the songs. Everything. It seemed like a good idea, and it probably was in theory.

But it doesn’t change the fact that all of those things are permanently seared into my brain, front and center, demanding my undivided attention. It doesn’t change the fact that I have a book he recommended on my kitchen table, or the fact that the bunny I knitted for his daughter is laying right beside it. The painting I was making for him sits on my easel, a partially finished memento of my pain and loss. It doesn’t change ANYTHING. My entire life is affected by him, the loss of him, thoughts of him, longing for him, memories of him. I miss him. Not even considering the lies, the deceit, the, yeah, the wife . . . I just miss him. He was such a huge and constant part of my life, and there is an empty place where he used to be.

I miss you.

Dan Jimenez, Adrian Jimenez, escritorio1978