Welcome To Stop-Motion Living
I don't know what this part is called. I have a tummy-ache and no energy and I'm not going to the gym. And apparently I'm not on the couch watching a movie, either.
I am in the dumb hard center of love and loneliness. Jesse is back in Canada, and after a week of silence and space, we started talking this weekend. The necklace he gave me is in a shell in my treasure box, coiled and glittering, and not on my neck. I cannot even look at it. Since the breakup, over a week ago now, I have not quite been comfortable with anything; I felt this strange stasis built in lack of communication and emptiness. And then when we talked the other night, and he said it-- that the relationship was over-- I suddenly felt okay. I needed to hear the words from him, I needed to know that he knew it, too.
Maybe this sounds silly, but there's been such trouble actual hearing each other. And to hear the fact of it, laid out, made me catch my breath and land on the earth. That's it. We're broken up. It gave me permission to be sad, but I'd already been sad. And in fact, it took that sadness away, because most of my unhappiness had come from trying to save something that neither of us were doing a good job of tending. Now all of the pressure is off, and our talking has been good.
And I miss him. A lot.
I get that the relationship as we had it is over, and that's okay. Because I think that it didn't fit. And now, if we are lucky, we can start getting to know each other, and start listening to each other, and find someway to move forward.
Which I hope.
Because I am telling him stories in my head. I am recounting to him the details of my day. I am watching for him on facebook and skype, and then making myself go do something else, as to not climb all over him and get the goo of my loneliness all over the interesting and new shell of our Us-ness.
So.
I am in the dumb hard center of love and loneliness. Jesse is back in Canada, and after a week of silence and space, we started talking this weekend. The necklace he gave me is in a shell in my treasure box, coiled and glittering, and not on my neck. I cannot even look at it. Since the breakup, over a week ago now, I have not quite been comfortable with anything; I felt this strange stasis built in lack of communication and emptiness. And then when we talked the other night, and he said it-- that the relationship was over-- I suddenly felt okay. I needed to hear the words from him, I needed to know that he knew it, too.
Maybe this sounds silly, but there's been such trouble actual hearing each other. And to hear the fact of it, laid out, made me catch my breath and land on the earth. That's it. We're broken up. It gave me permission to be sad, but I'd already been sad. And in fact, it took that sadness away, because most of my unhappiness had come from trying to save something that neither of us were doing a good job of tending. Now all of the pressure is off, and our talking has been good.
And I miss him. A lot.
I get that the relationship as we had it is over, and that's okay. Because I think that it didn't fit. And now, if we are lucky, we can start getting to know each other, and start listening to each other, and find someway to move forward.
Which I hope.
Because I am telling him stories in my head. I am recounting to him the details of my day. I am watching for him on facebook and skype, and then making myself go do something else, as to not climb all over him and get the goo of my loneliness all over the interesting and new shell of our Us-ness.
So.