Remember stage 5 about beating the dead horse? Well guess what? I have my stick in hand and it’s time to do some beating.
It’s one of those days when I wonder why I bothered getting out of bed. I don’t have reminders of him at home, but there are pictures and other things scattered around my workspace. Everywhere I turn my head there’s something that reminds me. Trying to get anything accomplished at work is near impossible. I might as well try to figure out the meaning of life, or try to balance the budget. It ain’t gonna happen. Instead, I find myself staring blankly at my computer wondering where it all went to shit.
I can’t eat. Food doesn’t taste right-even water has a funny taste to it. My stomach is trying to revolt and wants to hurl itself out of my body. I’m hungry, but the thought of putting anything in my mouth (that’s what she said) makes me want to hurl. Everything’s just off.
I’m sad. I miss him. I just want to pick up the phone and call him and tell him I’m sorry and that we can work it out. He’s broken. How do you work that out? I can’t change him. He can’t change himself unless he’s sitting in a therapist’s office, but he has to make that decision on his own. Do I wait around for that to work itself out? Do I give us another chance if he’s willing to do what it take? Or is he beyond repair and I’d be wasting my time?
On Saturday I sent him a long email with everything I had been thinking and feeling and how I didn’t know what to do next, that I needed time to figure things out and I’d get back to him on Friday. He wrote back telling me to take all the time that I needed, and that he was sorry, and that if I’d give us another chance, we could work things out. He said he was going back to counselling to figure things out for himself. He said he hoped that my time alone would give me the answers that I was looking for.
My mother told me that only I have the answers, but I can’t find them. She said I had to follow my heart, but I can’t hear what it’s telling me or see where it’s taking me.
I freaking hate feeling this way.