They say you'll have "good days and bad days..." while you're trying to heal from heartbreak....
...the last week I was soaring, I was feeling lifted up in love by my friends, I was surprised by 13+ AMAZING blogger friends with a voucher to fly anywhere I want- I WAS SHOCKED, grateful, surprised and TOTALLY SPEECHLESS...I was floored once again by the depth of love and compassion I have surrounding me. The devoted support and open arms. I treated myself with gooey chocolaty things, expensive glasses of wine, naps, interesting conversation with amazing people, sweating in yoga so much that my entire body was practically sobbing (knee caps included), and various other distractions that make me smile....I was pampering my wound, for a speedy recovery. Nursing the shit out of it....with some incredible assistance.
I was noticing a slight glossy film of skin glistening over the pink, swollen wound. The "VOID." The days when I woke up feeling ALIVE and healthy again were starting to happen more frequently....and then of course, there's those pesky "bad" days.
...then, there's days when something really small happens, like you see someone with his same hair, or you need someone to help zip up your dress, or they start playing the song "Better Together," in your yoga class- your fucking "SAFE PLACE," the song you would've just so happened to be singing this coming weekend at your Love's sister's wedding, and all of a sudden your relatively "good day" spirals into an epically TERRIBLE DAY and you imagine yourself pulling a Tom Cruise in Jerry McGuire where you kind of just want to....fliiip out.
Then he ends up calling.... and you find yourself looking at your phone, at a name and a face that you've seen call you a hundred+ times and it feels like you're about to talk to a total stranger, and it feels like someones calling to tell you the best and worst news of your life...and you hear this voice that you've heard comfort you, engage in you, whisper intimately to you- a voice that's quivered and screamed, a voice that's cadence and inflection you understand like it's a secret language, a dead language no one else will ever be able to revive....then, they say the simplest, "Hi" and you don't feel like you know them at all. You can hear them through the walls they've built up.... but you know that this time, they can't really hear you.
Then you end up saying too much- you end up saying that you miss them, you end up telling them you can't sleep....you end up empathizing with THEM and their situation... you accept their apology, you Mother and voice concern and leave every. single. open door open for them to ask if they can come back in-you leave the door wide open, with warm dinner and fresh laundry..... and they still choose to stay outside, in the pouring rain-excuse me, pouring HAIL STORM, with an empty stomach and dirt under their fingernails, and a yo-yo sluggishly bouncing up and down, with you on the end of the string.
You want to hear their voice and you want to shake them, you want to hear their voice play out a monologue of regret, anguish-willingness to move mountains, imploring you to forgive them- you've heard them say it in your head a million times, it almost seems possible...but, instead he says, "I realize you were a limb to me and I was a heart to you..." and then you remember that you can still tie a shoe with one arm, you can still type with one hand, you can love with EVERYTHING-limbs or not, and you can live completely....but you can't do anything with a missing heart. Then, you're angry with them and you wish you would've asked for some sort of collateral at the beginning of all of this, in return for such a valuable object.
You let him say he's thinking about you...and that he does love you, in whatever "version" that means to him. Then, you let him cut off the conversation first....and you hold the phone, wrecked and angry with yourself.
....but you're soft for him. You're fleshy and accessible. You're totally ripe and delicate, forgiving and eager to trust, nakedly laying in the palm of the very thing that crushed you. There aren't games or, "Ignore" buttons because you can't quite figure out how to seal up a faucet that was pouring out love you weren't ready to stop giving. There aren't the "make him miss me" actions, because I'm still too busy doing the missing for us both. There aren't "FUCK Yous" flying around, because being angry with him doesn't help ME evolve.... and because when it comes down to the core of it, the anger, the neglected phone call is really just my ego trying to "win..." and as much as our egos like to think so, matters of the heart don't come along with a set of games, rule books and instruction manuals. They just FEEL....
So, yes- there are good days. Days when I'm beaming and totally hopeful and excited about what's happening, what could happen...what I'm discovering, who I'm becoming....
Then there are days like this one. There are days when I have hold my own hand through it all, talk myself down the way I used to let him, find pleasure in my own company knowing there has to be someone out there that wants to sit across from me at a dinner table and make me his whole world, even for just those moments over piping hot rigatoni and wine stained teeth. There are days when I can't see anything without seeing him in it. Then, there are nights when I wake up, twisted up in a sheet, sweat dripping down my neck and in my confusion, I briefly think he's gotten up to grab me a glass of water, or he's still up watching television.....and it's nights like this where I have to teach myself how to sleep alone again, when I grab my own water- untangle myself, open a window, close my eyes and gently rock myself back to sleep....hoping that the next day will be one of the "good ones."
Is there a "GAME" when it comes to "LOVE????"
Also....thanks to some of you lovelies I have a vacation to take....Hm, where to go?!