Wrote this to someone earlier today:
"How is it possible that I'm feeling worse than ever today than last weekend about this breakup? I've deleted each and every way to check on his whereabouts (except for a couple of mutual friends on FB), and I should be starting to come out of this fog, right? Wrong. I had the worst night ever and had to resort to wine and cigarettes. I cried. All. Night. Long. And woke up crying. Maybe that is the reality. It's just that we went from, at the very least, speaking several times every single day....to nothing. Dead silence. Even through our HUGE crisis, we spoke quite a bit, and it was comforting (I guess) to know that he was fighting so hard for me. I know that this is withdrawal, and I know that it's all my ego, and I know that the relationship has run it's course and I realize that he has someone else to help ease his pain, but this is starting to feel worse than when Ex-Fiance #1 dumped me by surprise. I am reeling and I can't get up."
Yes, it's grief, I realize that. I will keep moving and keep pushing through this, but MAN is it hard. Every day feels like I push through a new struggle. I know I have to break out of this, and I know that I am on a path to something greater, better, more wonderful. I just know it. But there are many times during the day/night that I just can't see it.
I feel all of this horrible jealousy that he's probably enjoying this weekend with a new love (and I could be all wrong about that!). I torture myself by imagining them holding each other and touching and making love. What is wrong with me!!
I fantasize about meeting a total stranger and bringing him home and fucking his brains out. I masturbate to that thought. I do! I don't know if it makes me feel any better. It kinda makes me feel sexy, but not better.
The absolute best part about my relationship with SP was really the sweet stuff and not so much the sex. It was the friendship, the laughter, the joy I got from the cuddling and the touch. It was how he told me I was pretty and nice to him. It was the little gestures.
I miss all of that. I miss It so much. I crave his body heat and whatever that chemical is that just makes me melt. I still love him so very much.
But I hate him at the same time. I hate what he did. I hate the fact that he was broken when we met. He would agree to that if you asked him to his face...he was a broken man. And that's what I got.
Well, he says he fixed all that. Could that possibly be true? I don't know. Maybe, maybe not, but again, how would I ever know? And DOUBLE again, it doesn't matter anymore. He is gone. Gone. Gone.
I want to wish him well, but I can't. I don't right now. I wish him the same sorrow and grief that I am feeling. I wish him the want and the craving that I am going through. I wish him the tears and the pain and the memory. I wish him to take all of this on and take it off my shoulders. I wish for him to take this weight and carry it with him to his new relationship. I wish for her the same pain that I am going through because I am an asshole right now. I want everyone involved to be miserable.
Not really. But see, these are the things that I'm spinning about. One second I think he was the most wonderful thing I've ever had and the next second I want to see him in horrific pain.
I know this feeling will end. It always does. I have the small comfort that I made it through something similar before. I just didn't think that this one could possibly hurt worse. I thought that it was impossible to feel as low as I did when Bryan left me. But I find myself doing/feeling just as awful...ashamed, horrified, victimized, used, guilty, embarrassed, disgusted, remorseful, angry, pitiful.
I will feel better eventually. I just have to keep on moving. Walking and working out helps. I walked miles and miles and miles yesterday. I need to get up and do it again. I will walk it off at some point. I will see the light of day. I will move forward and love again. I know this - I want this. I will make it happen.
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