This feels like the place between what is and might have been.
I should be sleeping.
Instead I’m wide awake, crying and missing B. I am literally sick to my stomach.
Where did this come from, and why has it come? It’s been 4 1/2 months since that relationship ended, yet I feel as if he just told me yesterday it would be best if we didn’t see each other any more.
I hate this. The feeling of loss, of incompetence, of loneliness. That’s what I hate most.
In 4 1/2 months I’ve dated a variety of men. Most of them nice, a few of them jerks, a couple of them creeps. But at this moment it feels as though it was all just a distraction. And not a very good one.
I live a great life. I am very happy being me. I love the courage I mustered to divorce my husband. The strength I had to live through 18 of the hardest months of my life with my oldest son. The determination I found to change jobs in a poor economy instead of settling for a shitty environment and 80+ hours a week. I am happy and content being alone. Alone with me. Alone with my boys. Alone with my puppy.
But I miss B in a painful way. I miss his friendship, his affection, his sincere and honest love. I miss the endless hours of conversation about everything and nothing. I miss the way he talked, laughed, argued. I miss the way he looked at me, listened to me, thought about me. I miss him. I miss everything wonderful about him and even the things that annoyed me.
This feels like the place between being ready and being in the way.
I could easily list all the reasons it made sense to end that relationship. I’ve done it before. I could just as easily list all the things about B that led me to believe we would never be married. Ever. I’ve done that before too. But none of it matters right now.
My heart is still broken, when I thought it was mending. It’s a cruel realization and I don’t like it one bit.
I wish I could see him, but I know that I won’t. I wish I could talk to him, but I know that I can’t. I wish I could make him laugh, see him smile, and watch his eyes twinkle when he looks at me.
I wish I could stop crying. I wish I could sleep. I wish I would throw up so the sick feeling in my stomach would simply go away.
I tell myself I’ll make it through,
I tell myself anything to get over you.
~ Train, Lincoln Avenue
Why is my heart still aching? Why can’t I just make it stop?
I hate this.
I really need to throw up.