Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Two Reactions, One Day

On the morning I wrote my last post "Four Months", I wrote about processing the idea of not getting closure. About how all I can get from him, is what I already got. How I wanted to be able to talk calmly with him about our shared situation, but have begun to realize he may never do that. And for a while that day, I believed this was okay.

Later that night, I found myself reduced to a sobbing, albeit hysterical, mess as my best friend pleaded with me not to email him and threatened to call my mother to knock down my door and stop me. How did that happen?

The night before, I was told by someone that he’s been sleeping on various couches, one of which belongs to a "random girl." I was shocked and saddened, but I didn’t react. Actually I wasn't entirely shocked, oddly enough. I wrote "Four Months" the next morning. It wasn't until that night that something began slowly creeping over me... and then proceeded to swallow me. I started picturing him with this girl, thinking of how he’s forgotten me. How maybe he’s so much happier without me.

All of a sudden I began to feel hurt and used. Like the life I had led for years was a lie. I also felt this overwhelming feeling of worthlessness. This was so bizarre, so foreign. I'd never felt this before. I felt so easily replaceable. Disposable. And, well, worthless. This feeling took over me and every rational thought I was having... just vanished.

I think it's important to explain that while you can sit and process and analyze, talk and commiserate, plan for the future, and make declarations and observations -- that all of a sudden and out of nowhere you can be thrown into a place you never thought you were capable of getting to. A place that can grip you so tight that you can’t see yourself for who you really are.

I have to believe, and hold onto the fact, that he does not hold my sense of worth. That his love, didn’t make me a whole person, and his lack of love doesn’t in turn make me worthless.

Friday, June 26, 2009

Four Months

The time seems to be passing quickly, it doesn’t feel like 4 months, but at the same time what I went through 4 months ago doesn’t always feel real.

At this point, he's completely vanished from my life. We've chosen to have absolutely no contact and as each day passes I wonder if we ever will be able to talk again. My memories of him are becoming vague, blurry images; sometimes I have trouble remembering his voice, and can't easily conquer up his mannerisms, his laugh, or smile.

It's strange because I really felt like leaving him was like standing on a cliff. I had no idea what was going to happen to me and in a way I thought the world would just stop. But it didn’t stop. Everything kept going. My job, my family, my friends (well the most important ones)... are all still here. But as some things keep going… unchanged, other things are definitely changing, becoming clearer. Focused.

Many people vanished from my life along with him. The people I had grown up with over the last 9 years -- gone to college with, attended parties with, birthdays, holidays, shows and most recently their weddings – all vanished with him. As if they didn’t exist either. Most of them, after the break-up, never checked to see if I was okay, never contacted me, and I will most likely never hear from, or see, any of them again. At first, this upset me… a bit too much in fact.

People with whom I had shared major life events with all of a sudden were gone from my life. I always knew they weren’t really my closest friends but it’s shocking once you realize that the people surrounding you viewed you as disposable and if that’s the case, would never be there for you when shit got real. Because let’s face it, shit did get real and only a very few stepped up. Instead of a group of people supporting and genuinely caring for one another, you have something else entirely. This isn’t what I wanted. That’s not the kind of person I am or the kinds of people I want in my life. I want a genuine support system around me. This is something that has become startlingly clear. When my life is in upheaval and I need someone, I need them to be there for me, no questions asked, it’s that simple.

And of all the people you would expect to be there for me, my partner of nine years, no longer exists.

In my mind I have these visions of two grown-ups coming together to discuss, with clarity and civility, what went wrong, why they hurt each other, and how they’ve processed the end of their relationship. I want my voice to be heard, to say what I really think of what we did to each other, I want us both to apologize, to be clear and concise and open to say anything. I want closure and an end. But I have no indication that this is possible.

I get advice from all over the place. It ranges from: “Never contact him ever again”, to “Get together for dinner with him” (which right now seems impossible since I've just learned some pretty disturbing shit about his recent actions and can’t imagine sitting in front of him and not jabbing a fork in his face), to “Go to him and verbally vomit all the things you feel and then walk away.”

I guess I have to move on with the knowledge that all I’m going to get from him, I already got. Maybe I’ll get the closure I envisioned someday, and maybe I won’t. But I’ll continue to work on myself and try to process what happened to us and why I made the choices I did. And most importantly, to not make the same mistakes.

To never again ignore myself. To undoubtedly listen to myself with a focus and intent so sharp it’s as if my life depends on it. Because it does.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009


  1. The lighting in the Banana Repulic dressing rooms... it's perfect.

  2. The wall color of said dressing rooms, which is the best shade of grey.

Pretty soon, I'll go there and will proceed to chip off a small piece of the wall, take that piece to the hardware store and have them match it. It is the absolute perfect shade of grey and really should be the color of my living room.

Wage a battle against embitterment and take part in Grace in Small Things.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Parking Lots and The Heaps

Photo by Traveler76

During the month of January (and a little bit of February) I had to try and wrap my mind around leaving him. How would I do it? Where would I go? What would I take with me? What the hell was his and what was mine? Needless to say, it was horribly overwhelming and I did it all alone. We would talk about breaking-up, but the actual packing and sorting all came down to me… of course. So I would sit in our apartment, under the shadow of my giant white Christmas tree, and try to figure out how to get out with the greatest amount of my sanity.

Somehow I decided that the first thing I had to do was go through my things and decide what I still wanted. Truthfully, I wanted none of it, but I had to sort it all out. To me, it was the first step.

So I would unload drawers and closets, sit on the floor with all my belongings laid out in front of me, deciding what was coming with me and what was staying. Moving from room to room holding piles of clothes, art supplies and papers; sorting and analyzing, I created various heaps throughout the house. I would do this endlessly, not eating, barely sleeping -- reading through old papers, letters, old greeting cards, photos. In the end, I was left with an assortment of many various heaps. This prompted a somewhat nightly ritual of driving to the hardware store and searching for a way to store all of it, and little by little I amassed a collection of bins.

Somewhere between either calling my mom, my best friend, or him, I’d tearfully drive to the store, sometimes pulling over to the side of the road to cry and then pull myself together (usually with the help of my best friend on the phone), then get back on the road and eventually pull into the hardware store parking lot. I’d sit, parked, and wait, clutching onto a snot soaked napkin or tissue or sleeve, looking out at the snow under the street lights, until I could compose myself into some respectable way before walking into the store. Buying these bins gave me a feeling like I was accomplishing something; I was one step closer to… something.

I ended up in that same parking lot the other day, it was a beautiful June afternoon and I had been in a great mood for no discernible reason. As I got out of the car, I was reminded of those horrible January days of tearful driving, bin buying, frantic sorting and endless packing.

I can see now, that my love for processes and analysis drifted into my break-up. I created a step-by-step process that I adhered to religiously. It kept me together and it kept me focused.

I'm so thankful that's over... I'm not walking around with wadded up tissues in my pockets anymore or dealing with any various heaps.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009


  1. Tearing into a box of Trader Joe's peppermint oreos in the middle of Ralphs with my BFF 
  2. Going back for a second box the very next day.... 
Wage a battle against embitterment and take part in Grace in Small Things.

Monday, June 8, 2009

Sunday, June 7, 2009

Grace in Small Things: 9 of 365

  1. The sound my new iPod makes when it shuffles 
  2. Peanut butter cups
  3. Unwrapping new beauty products (a.k.a "New Beauty Products Day")
Wage a battle against embitterment and take part in Grace in Small Things.

Creature Feature

Like some mystical creature studied for centuries -- every aspect of it examined in detail. Experts research its every move, every characteristic... recount each intricate mannerism, movement, hair, muscle. The creature exists only in the researchers mind. 

And yet, once the experts actually see this creature in real life, it surpasses every expectation. What was once only known in books becomes real and this reality is completely fascinating. But why? All the details were known, everything had been studied, but now somehow, seeing it in real life, seeing it move, it seems completely unlike what was expected but at the same time totally familiar. So much so its shocking.

This is what it feels like now to see video of him. 

I decided to find out once and for all if he was indeed back in the country. I had a vauge idea of when he would be back, but I never wanted to find out the actual date. I just didnt want to know, I enjoyed knowing he was not in the country (not just out of the city.... but the whole country). But one night I looked it up, and in that search I came across a video of him. And like a masochist, I played it for about 1 minute. When I saw him, my eyes widened and I felt a wave of shock and disbelief. Proof that he exists outside of my memory.

He seems so unreal now, like a creature I had studied but never believed really existed.

Photo by Patrick Ng

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Grace in Small Things: 8 of 365

Photo by t j a s a
  1. A warm, sunny morning
  2. A window filled with green trees
  3. A hot cup of tea
Wage a battle against embitterment and take part in Grace in Small Things.


Related Posts with Thumbnails