Moving forward
I don't sleep very much. Or at least, very well. I don't eat much either. I'm down to French serving sizes for the most part and generally not more than two meals a day. The eating part is ok, it probably matches my level of calorie burning pretty well these days. I just sit around. I spend whole days in front of my computer, listlessly looking for distractions. I must have played every game, read every post, every online comic. I press 'refresh' a thousand times on Facebook, on my Friends' List.
Last night I was so tired, but I still couldn't fall asleep. I felt like I needed to cry but I'm so exhausted. I don't want to cry anymore. I promised myself I wouldn't. I would stop this pity party and move forward. Somehow. So today, I put on PS: I Love You. In retrospect, perhaps not the wisest choice. Perhaps so. I'm a blubbering mess right now. And it's a relief.
I've realized - and it really has taken me this long - that I'm stuck in some weird vacuum. I can't go out and meet someone new, even if I wanted to. And part of me wants to. Wouldn't it be great to meet that guy who has prospects? A degree? Someone who didn't smoke and wanted kids kinda soon? But even if that Fantasy Man existed and I managed to run into him, all that would result in would be TWO people being strung along, waiting for Butterflies' return. I wouldn't be able to allow myself to act on it until I knew what the deal was with Butterflies. Unless meeting Mr Fantastic is so fantastic that Butterflies would simply fade into the background - kind of like I suspect he thinks will happen. But life doesn't deal you those cards. You gotta play with the hand you've got. And no matter how I twist and turn it, what I've got is an undeniable connection and earth shattering attraction to a big, playful, irresponsible lug and I think he's gorgeous. And on some level, the fact that he hasn't got all those things appeals to me, because I'm not ready to settle down either. To get stuck in the rat race. And the guy without the career is so much more likely to want to take off with me somewhere and take a big bite out of life. Screw responsibilities, let's play! I need that. I need that a bit more still.
I've also realized that he was probably a bit more succesful in keeping me at arm's length than I gave him credit for. I was so swept away by all these feelings that I just assumed he was right there with me. So while I'm over here being all epic, he's in France, probably quite succesfully pretending it never happened. And that's a bitter pill to swallow. And it makes the waiting even worse, because I could be waiting for absolutely nothing. Deep down, I still believe in this. I still believe I'm the best thing that ever happened to him and we both know it. I believe that he's looking forward to coming home to me. But there's a lot of other noise drowning that out for the most part. I have to be really quiet to hear it. I have to talk my way into it. Over and over and over. And I'm getting sick of hearing my own voice. Same topic, over and over and over.
So I'm devising a plan. Things to do in the meantime. Moving forward, without really moving much at all.
- That's the worst part, isn't it? I'm so terribly, depressingly stuck here for the whole duration of his Fun and Raunchy Times In Val T: *Hedonism With Snow!* I'm gonna look like the most boring person in the universe when he gets back:
"So what'd you do?"
"Oh, you know. Saw a movie."
Anyway. Plan.
I uploaded pictures on Facebook yesterday. It made me feel good. I realized that I shouldn't be the only one tortured with endless galleries of fun times and god knows what else. So I'm going to be posting pictures of me too, having a good time and looking fantastic. I'm not moping, see? I still exist and I'm fabulous, see? It's petty and childish, yes. But it makes me feel better.
I'm gonna get a posse together and we're gonna go dancing. I'm already recruiting. I want to go dancing at least twice before my birthday. Dancing makes me happy. Flirting makes me happy. If I can have with the flirting, I don't need the sexing. Well... I can live without.
I'm gonna be honest and tell my girlfriends that I'm still incredibly sad on the inside and that if it looks like I'm asking for help, it's because I am. I'm also going to be better at asking specifically for what I need. "I'm bored and sad today," means "let's do something," but it doesn't sound the same. It's selfish to ask of them to be on standby like that, but I'd do the same in a heartbeat and I think they know that.
I keep saying that I plan to go work out but I never get off my ass and actually go. I want to. I think it's fun. I know my body and mind needs it and it would make me feel better. So go, stupid!
I have to get serious about finding another job. I miss the outside world. Immersing myself in something and not think about anything else for the duration. Feeling like I make a difference. Smile, even when it's pasted on. When you smile enough, your face starts to believe it.
So that's the plan. No more moping around. It's stupid, and it makes me resentful towards the whole situation and that spills over into my feelings for him. I need to take my own advice and be constructive about this. So if you'll excuse me, I have a date with a treadmill. Maybe that will make me tired enough to sleep. And hungry enough to eat.