Ahhh, Sunday afternoon. It's chilly and kind of cloudy, but still I needed some fresh air so I packed up my computer and walked over to the park. Here I sit, surrounded by families and couples and even some singles like me. I love it here - especially on days like today when it's not so crowded. I come here almost every day to get in a little walk and move my bod. On Saturdays there's a free bootcamp at 9am and that always starts my weekend off in a very good way. Exercise, after all, is the best antidepressant.
My weekend has vacillated between horrible stinky shit and bright, sunny brilliance. OK, well, brilliance might be a liiiiitle bit of an overstatement, but there have been some shining moments.
The shit part was when I let my curiosity get the best of me and I did some internet sleuthing regarding SexyPants. Nothing good ever comes of this, and this time was no exception. What I discovered was some very credible evidence that SP has a new love in his life, and when I realized this it felt like the biggest sucker punch to the gut. I was hysterical on the inside. I didn't even know what to do with that information, so I poured my heart out to some good friends who helped me off the ledge. I'm thankful for that because....ugh...I didn't think I could hurt any worse. I swear I thought I was doing ok, but obviously actively searching for information was a big, big mistake. I immediately deleted the source of this information so there's no way I'll even be tempted to do that shit again. Damn. One little click can set a person back to square one. Well, actually further back.
The shiny moments came when friends stepped up to the plate. I had an invitation on Friday to go to a cheesy nightclub to hear a 70s cover band. I can't say that it was loads of fun, but I got a girl from work to come with me as well, and let's just say that it was much, much better than sitting at home crying in my soup. I had a little bit of champagne - a little bit too much, I should say, and the drive home was not pleasant at all.
Last night I got a last minute invite from a guy I used to call CC in my old diary. He's been stepping up to the plate regarding getting me out and socializing. I can't thank him enough for that. I mean, he invited me to this private party for the launch of a new Ukranian vodka at this chi chi nightclub. Even though he brought a date to this event, I was so very happy that he invited me. I got to hob nob with the restaurant owner scene and even ran into a couple of people I knew from the old days! Really nice time. I knew ahead of time that I was going to imbibe (vodka, no less), so taxis were key in my logistical planning.
While I was waiting for my taxi, I had a brief conversation with the part-time doorman at my apartment building. Somehow (!) the conversation turned to my breakup, and Mike the Doorman asked me if I'd gotten revenge. I paused for a moment and then just said, "no." He looked at me and smiled and said that it was a good thing - that so many people who get dumped want to find a way to make their exes suffer, and that it's nice to hear that I didn't want to cause any more suffering.
I've been thinking about that a lot. Yes, I am extremely sad that it finally ended. This heartache is torturous. But truly, we all knew this was coming, right? Every time I saw SP in the last few months was only a delay from the inevitable. I don't wish him harm. I don't wish for revenge (even though I hope he never meets another woman who loves him as fiercely as I did - and even though I wish for them the same shenanigans that were pulled on me...is that bad?).
Anyway, the party was fun. I drank lots of vodka drinks (vodka/champagne/lemon drinks), ran into an old running buddy, made a couple of new friends (including an interesting guy I'd met once before when CC and I were doing that weird dating thing that we did way back when - I'm a little curious about his situation, though I'm NOT up for dating right now), danced some kind of stumbly, drunk, embarrassing dance with a few fun people, and when I found myself wanting to approach guys to see if they'd dance with me, I knew the night was over. I poured myself into another taxi and made a pit stop at 7-11 for a pint of ice-cream, and stumbled back to my building.
Mike the Doorman was still there. I think he may have been waiting for me...yikes. He walked me inside, got on the elevator with me (a little weird) and walked me to my door (super weird!). All the while I was slurring something like, "I'm not a bad person...I'm not a bad person!"
Ummmmm. Hmmmm. Not sure where that came from, but oh well. I can blame it on heartbreak for a while longer.
I cried. Thankfully, not in front of Mike.
I hurt just a little bit this morning, but a brisk morning walk in the cold air did me a lot of good. I skipped church for the 4th week in a row.
Met Mom and Dad for lunch today. I knew they were going to want to talk about SP for a bit, and I was dreading that because I didn't want to cry in front of them (again!), but I held it together really well if I do say so myself. It was good to see them. I'd been avoiding talking to them because of all the shit I feel like I've put us all through. I mean, I think my parents loved him as much as I did. It's all just so heartbreaking. My mom says it feels to her like we got divorced. I guess it's because he had so much involvement with my parents. God, I want to cry.
I still love him so desperately. Why did he have to be a fucking liar back then? Why did he put me in a position of distrust? Why?? What a sad, sad, fucking stupid thing. Fucking STUPID!
I know there is a light at the end of this tunnel. I just have to go through it.
I know the light will shine because something interesting happened yesterday.
When Bryan and I broke up and he and I continued to see each other, he had moved out of "our" place and into an apartment building that's just a few blocks from where I live now. It used to be sooooo gut-wrenching to visit him in that apartment and I'd torture myself to spend a little bit of time with him. It was a horrible thing that I was doing to myself, but seeing him was like a sick drug and I would go there to get my fix and then feel incredibly ashamed and guilty afterwards. After we stopped seeing each other for good, it still killed me to walk or drive past that place.
So I was out walking yesterday and walked right past that building...and felt nothing. No pain, no guilt, no yucky feelings, no sadness, no pangs of anything towards him. In fact, the only thing that I felt was a little bit of fondness for the time that we spent together. I remembered some good moments, and then I let it go, pleased with the thought that I could feel pretty much nothing for what I left back then.
You may remember that my whole entire world fell apart when he left me. I was beyond devastated - I could not function at all.
And look at me now! I lived to see another heartbreak! Ha. I made a joke.
Point being, I'm going to look back on this and feel....maybe nothing, maybe something, but I think I will end up feeling fine. Just gotta keep moving through the tunnel.
Until then, I'm sure I'll be back - a lot.
OK. Enough of this entry. It's been an ok weekend, and that's really all I have to say.
I love you.
GS
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