I’m so conflicted at the moment that I can’t even think about writing down what I’m feeling.
I was under the miguided impression that as soon as Pat moved out, I’d be ‘back to my old self’. I’d be running every day and eating very healthy and feeling like a new woman. Ya, that was rubbish! I’m sad. I’m lonely and I’m depressed. I don’t mind getting up in the morning by myself (besides the fact that I have to PRY myself out of bed (thanks mild depression! Very helpful!) and I don’t mind coming home to my house alone… I don’t mind going to bed by myself… I was almost always first in bed and first up in the morning when Pat lived here. It’s the evening that I don’t much care for. I haven’t knit, I don’t read… I just sit on the sofa and stare and talk to the kitty. (not like crazy cat lady talking!).
I am not used to having so much silence. On the one hand it’s nice but on the other hand it reminds me that I haven’t yet really mourned the end of my relationship.
For the six weeks that we lived together after we broke up, we both pretended (rather successfully actually) that everything was ‘fine’. The day he moved out, I busied myself with making my new duvet and making dinner (from scratch!) for my friends and sister who came over to keep me company. I took the rest of that week off work and sewed, cleaned and organized both by myself and with a variety of people helping me! (THANK YOU!). I worked four days last week and every night after work did some sort of project or another. On the weekend I had the big Karma party and was suitably distracted from any thoughts or feelings by the shear amount of work and people around. On Sunday I went and hung out on the sofa at my friend Sam’s house and by Monday had nothing left to do to distract myself.
Now the silent sound in my house reminds me with each passing minute that I have not reconciled this at all. I’ve spent two months distracting myself, pretending to be fine and otherwise faking it.
I’m living in fear of actually sitting down and thinking about what’s happened in my life. I have big plans for the ‘new’ me… jogging, good eating (altho to be fair to me, I am eating well and healthy!), new positive things to replace negative things that have come before. But I can’t seem to get there to them because there’s a huge wall of grief that I have to get around first and I’m avoiding it like the plague. It’s like when you don’t want to rip a bandaid off because it will hurt, so you figure the longer it stays on and the more showers you take, the glue will weaken and it will just slide off. That never works!
So for the time being I’m stuck. I’m afraid to cry because it’s going to hurt. I’m afraid to even talk about my feelings surrounding it (aside from superficial stuff) because it will make me cry and as mentioned, that’s going to hurt!
And I feel that everyone was so encouraging to me that it will be ‘different’ when he’s gone and that it was ‘for the best’ that I should be expected to be well over it (it’s been two months! but really, it’s been two weeks) and have moved on.
And I haven’t moved on. I’ve cleaned and organized and made plans that are no where near being near fruition. And when I go home I lay on the sofa or in my bed and stare into space completely numb until I fall asleep.
I haven’t finished my bestee’s birthday present (which is terrible since I started it so early… not knowing that this ‘minor detour’ would have come along), I have a million things I want to start, finish and work on and no ambition to do any of it.
The most ambition I’ve had in the last few days has been to discern where the lovely mint/lavender smell in the living room was coming from. As it turns out, my whole bottle of Element Botanicals essential oil smashed in the bottom of my notions bowl. At least it smelled good!