after being crushed, weight after weight, when asked for an answer I still say "more weight."
If you don't know what going on I’m not going to catch up up now. So unless u r in the know, I’d just not read this.
I look at the calendar on the fridge every day, mentally crossing off the days as if it were a countdown to when my world gets ripped apart layer by layer. Smiling through this has its benefits and its draw backs. Instead of walking around like a crying zombie for the next two months, I choose to wait until it’s actually happening.
Don't think of this as the end, but as a new beginning he says. But a new beginning means there was an end to something. Who knows, it could be the beginning to something good.
I'm not ready to say it’s over. I know what I need to get help with.
This could fix the problems and he could finally deal with his emotional baggage. I'm smart enough to not convince myself of that certainty. He could take too long and it could be too late. I have to pick up those pieces and put them back together without him regardless. And what if he does take too long? Then it’s not just my heart I am responsible for. All I can do is hope for the best and expect the worse.
My plan of action is acceptable if not exciting. I am happy to move in with somebody understanding, and I apologies in advance for the nights filled with tears to come in the beginning. Now here comes some more of the draw backs. Because I am harboring the tears that I refuse to let fall for the moment, I fill up on any other stress possible.
I want to micro manage EVERYTHING around me, grasping anything I CAN control in my life right now to replace the uncontrollable. This means short temper with coworkers, frustration with not having every detail in order with the big move. This means wanting to know every detail and move that has to do with my brothers and the stupid decisions my mother is making at the moment. I had finally learned how to ignore her problems, and live my own life, letting them cross enough to call it a relationship. And now, I’m going back on that. I crave anything to focus my emotions elsewhere.
I see and feel myself fill with frustration and anger and emotion over EVERYTHING. Frustrations with the lack of answers form the apartments, when all in all they have no answers for me yet. Frustrations with the decisions my mother is making, when I already know from years of experience that I should expect no less from her and there’s not much I can do.
As I sit here trying to pack things into boxes and D-DAY approaches, going from rarely used items to the more important things, I can feel the lump in my throat. Yet I still refuse to let it out.
I'm the one who chose to continue like normal until we actually part. Probably because I want to get my fill in case this IS the end. And I know men show their emotions on a delayed timer if at all. Yet when he says we still have a whole month, babe! During my minute laps in tear holding, I find no comfort. It’s like having a countdown to the day you die, and yet you know how you are leaving, you don’t know what will be there to receive you. I suppose that the only way to describe how I am feeling, to compare it to death and the age old question of whether or not there is LIFE after death.
I know what you’re thinking, and yes I have learned my lessons with past mistakes and relationship. I know that if I want this to last that I have to do this. What en extreme version of if you love something let it go. Or maybe that’s just it. It’s a saying that we have all heard, yet we don't realize just how extreme it is until we are actually doing it. And we torture ourselves in the process.
The worst part is while I sit her, letting my insides decay in pain, those I love around me are happy! Things for them are improving, as if all the happiness I once had left me and went to them, and in trade a received their hard times. Now I’m not blaming at all if that’s what you are thinking. I am nothing but happy and supportive for them, but it doesn’t make that sting go away. I can pretend to be happy with them for now anyway. I have a month, right?
Part of me see's there happiness pulling them away from me when I need them the most. More good things for them means less time they have to see what I am not saying out loud. Less shoulders to lean my head on. My heavy head that I have shoves tears into every orifice possibly so to not have them spilling out. And so the only thing to carry this weight is my very own shoulders. The muscles already normally tight from my ginormous boobs are now screaming in the pain of my neglect to ease the weight or rub them smooth.
Have a good day babe; see you when I get home.
I wish at the very least that these words didn’t remind me of that calendar! The ticking clock that brings me closer to when home is in a new place. Without him.
Home.