Ug. Hurt. Not a physical hurt, but a dull sadness that saps and rips now for over a month. I look wistfully out windows and lie catatonic in my bed. My heart is broken.
I broke up with Greg, so perhaps I lack justification for maudlin woe. Yet, the sadness won’t go away. I unilaterally ended our dating. He unilaterally cut off all contact. I miss his kindness. I miss his friendship. I miss him.
Social events sour. When I’m out, I wonder and worry whether he will arrive and what would I say. Yet the two times I have spotted him, I collapsed catatonically and could not stop for days later dwelling on our momentary encounter. Do I want him around or don’t I?
The soreness crashes through a spectrum of hurt. ENNUI: an inability to feel excitement or energy. GUILT: did I do the wrong thing? NOSTALGIA: like a chunk of me has been cut off. ANGER: why does he have to make this so difficult? Why can’t I move on? DESPAIR: I may never meet someone new. I don’t want to.
I try to fake it until I make it. I’m out and about, soliciting lunches and setting up activities. I pretend to absorb myself in busy activities. I try to smile.
The breakup opened more than a box of rain. There are silver linings. I’m eager now for connections. Screw all my mysenthrophic personal projects – I want to be around people. I’m gentler. I’m a better listening.
I’m more aware of the giant size of my heart. At least I can feel quite strongly and deeply. The breakup would be far more tragic if I felt little except coldness after cutting off a three-year relationship.