Diary of a Break Up: Day Two
I’m back at work today and I desperately want to get into that zone of feeling really really busy, you know the zone when you’re a boss at work because you’re so miserable? When does that zone kick in again?
I had grand plans this morning of going for a long walk in the park, writing in my journal, and eating a good breakfast. I did… none of these things. I woke up an hour before my first meeting and wasn’t hungry. I ate a banana though and made myself a cup of tea. I ended up going for a walk later on in the day and I’m writing my journal now. It’s not perfect but it’s a start. I’ve been watching a lot of Camp Cretaceous — don’t judge me, internet, it’s awesome.
Things were hard today. Every now and again I would find myself spiralling down into a pity party for one. Posting a card for a friend, I found my eyes instinctively drawn to all the lovey dovey cards in the post office, all the happy marriage signs. Every time a colleague asked me how my vacation was, I lied about how it had been great. There are packing boxes in the background of my screen and that damned product return too. On my slightly delayed “morning” walk past the butcher, a hot for a guy in his forties with blood on his apron and a large overbite walked out to tell me he that he thought I was cute and he wanted to ask me out on a date. I abruptly mumbled a no, sorry, I have a boyfriend, then despaired when I remembered I don’t have one, then wondered whether I should have said yes to put myself out there… like I said pity party for one. Reading back over this I’m torn between if I should still consider that a win for the day or if I should say something appropriate about patriarchy.
I spoke to my therapist in the afternoon. It was a make-up session for last week where a power outage her side had meant we had to postpone. I was in full-on tears three minutes in. I was so devastated and all the pity party just came pouring out. I missed him so badly, I just wanted to hold him and speak to him and tell him how much I loved him. She stopped me mid-spiel to remind me that I was an active participant in this — why wasn’t I angry? My partner of three years was treating me so terribly with complete disregard for my feelings.
I felt a surge of defensiveness at that. I had made sure throughout the entire process that I behaved in a way that felt right for me, that I would feel proud of. I was compassionate and caring for three weeks, and in my final week, I took back control, because I was entitled to. I still feel genuine sadness and grief but I am moving forward.
EDIT: The evenings are hard. They are really hard. That was the time I talked to him the most, when we were both awake in different places around the world. I miss him so much.