This has maybe been the worst week of my life. Apparently there is no one size fits all for break ups. About a year ago, I was going through a similar situation (oh, God, please tell me this is not going to be like the holiday tradition I always wanted). Anyway, that breakup was rough. If I could’ve designed a human for myself, it probably would’ve been that guy so naturally, I was devastated to learn that he had another human in mind. I cried like ugly cried for a whole day, was pathetic for like 2.5, but then pulled myself together by day 3. Sure, the hurt and anger and homicidal fantasies lingered for a while, but overall I was pretty fine pretty quick.
So when this one ended, I expected it to go the same. After all, even though I thought this guy was the perfect gentleman, he didn’t have all of the things I thought I was looking for. I felt terribly upset the first day, but assumed I would be able to resume my life by day 2. Boy was I wrong. Day 2 went by and 3 and 4 and 5 and 6 and 7 and, well, there was no strong, independent woman moments. There have been moments where I’ve felt like, okay I can take a shower and maybe throw away the donut wrapper in my bed (which, by the way, I’ve learned that I have got to take full advantage of those moments because they are very fleeting). But mostly, it’s just been tears and white hot anger and denial and sadness and basically everything. Did you know that you can want to murder someone and also want to beg them to take you back all at the same time?
They say relationships should teach you things. So far, the only thing this one taught me was don’t trust anyone, especially not one of your best friends for 2 years who always told you how other guys weren’t right for you and acted like your real life prince charming only to rip your fucking heart out with complete disregard 3 weeks before you’re flying out to see him. Oh yeah, that and it is actually possible to feel EVERY. SINGLE. Human emotion all at the same time and it is fucking miserable. Just when I think I’m going to be okay, I find myself curled up in the fetal position, sobbing and replaying literally every conversation we ever had over and over in my head.
I’ve tried the whole “fake it till you make it” approach. I’ve gotten out of bed, gone to work, exercised, etc. and there have been fleeting moments of resolve, but in general I would leave work and sob in my car for an hour because I spent the previous 12 putting on a happy face and pretending everything was fine. IT’S NOT FINE.
I’ve also always walked away from previous break ups very dignified with my head held high like, “you don’t want me, well screw you.” End scene. This has not been the case. There have been texts, calls (all ignored, btw), plotting and conspiring. I’m actually still not unconvinced that I won’t set fire to all his personal belongings once I get to Hawaii. I’m feeling less Elizabeth Taylor at the moment and more Carrie Underwood “Before He Cheats.”
Apparently, according to most people, there’s going to be a day when I don’t feel like I’m literally dying from the inside and suddenly life is normal again. I don’t see, but god damn am I going to welcome it with open arms. Until then, I’ll be sobbing into a box of Reeses Puffs and watching horror movies because frankly, I don’t understand the sick fucks who watch romance movies when going through a break up. Watching people get murdered is way more satisfying. Also, it’s a really great way to feel like you aren’t all alone anymore.