Day Three

Jane, Alone.

I am working so hard on being more independent it might kill me. I am trying to hard not to call him I might smash my phone into little tiny bits.

Why hasn't he called me?

Am I in sort of power play -- whoever caves first loses? Or is this a game I am playing alone?

The Key

I don't know how I survived the first night. I hardly slept. I wrote (and sent) an email I regret. I howled at the moon.

The first person I told the next day was my cousin. She's not just any cousin. She's my best friend. She's one of a very small handful of people who have known me from the moment I was born -- and remarkably she still likes me. We grew up together.

She came down when she heard. She stayed with me all night. She waited for me when I went to see my therapist, she waited for me to go to the gym, she listened when I needed to talk, she said nothing when I wanted silence. She's immeasurable, the best.

I was so sad when she left the next day.

I think the first important thing to do after a breakup is surround yourself with people. They take you out of your mind, help you think about things other than your pain. It's hard to find the right people to see after such a traumatic event though. It has to be someone who knows you, someone you can trust to share your feelings.

If you're lucky, you'll even have someone who's willing to take a train 45 minutes out of her way to see you when you need her. I am extremely thankful for that.

Heartsore

Being heartsore is terrible. It's so constant; I can't get a break from my own internal angst for even a moment. I wish time would speed up to a place where..... Where everything was OK, whatever that will be.

I wish I could get to a place of independence, of knowing what I want out of my life, of feeling comfortable in my own skin, of not wanting Rob so badly I feel compressions in my chest. I wish I could get there without doing any of the work. Why can't it just happen?

And oh then it hits. The hurt, the impossible hurt. The weight of his absence, the pain of every memory.

But wanting to get through this is half the battle right?

Day Two

He didn't write back to my email. I still haven't turned on my phone for fear of all the calls I haven't missed, the texts he hasn't sent.

Ugh it makes me crazy thinking this is probably so much easier for him than it is for me. That he probably doesn't care or miss me. That he probably thinks this is the best time of his life and for me it is the the ninth level of hell. If only I heard from him and knew how he was feeling. I want to know so badly, so badly. I want to call him. It feels like a burning, crushing pain eating my intestines. It feels like a panic attack. I sit on my hands.

Will we ever speak again?

I guess I am doing better... I've cried less. I've tried to feel stronger. I've tried to tell myself that this is a time I can use to focus on becoming more independent and doing things I love. I need a life, because he was my life. And now he's gone.

God I'm so pathetic.

Conflicting Desires

1. I want to lie here with a pillow over my face

2. I want to take a shower

3. I want to eat something and maybe read my book and act like a normal person.

4. the idea of reading a book right now is too difficult.

5. I want to throw away the presents I bought him in Disney World

6. I want to save them... just in case.

7. I want to scream. and scream. and scream. and scream. and scream.

8. I want to call him.

9. I want him to call me.

Day One

What do I do? I don't want to sleep, I don't want to sit still. I want to eat but nothing sounds appealing.

I feel like my insides are erupting in anger, devastation, hurt, sadness. I feel like I could scrape all the skin off my body and that would somehow be less painful than the burning in my heart.

I want to call him. I want to call him. I itch to pick up the receiver and hear his voice and know that this was all a terrible, terrible dream.

I'm sorry! I'm sorry... I know I called too many times, I should have left him alone more, I should have done a lot. Instead I pushed and pushed and pushed until I pushed him over the edge, until he was willing to hurt me.

I can't call. I want to call. But I can't call. I can't. I look at my phone and I want nothing more in this world than to hear his voice, the voice of the person I thought I knew, I want to believe for a second that everything will be fine.

But I tried that last night and instead I got the opposite. So I sit on my hands

The Breakup

I don't even know where to start. We did this once already, and it didn't stick. It still gives me hope that this won't either but then I remember his voice on the phone at the end of our conversation, cruel and heartless, and I want to slam the receiver down so I don't have to hear it anymore.

I will not speak to him.