[actually now that I finally post this entry it has been almost 3 weeks now.]
The fact that I am counting days is a testament to the tragic reality that I, myself, appear to be an addict. When I renamed my blog not too long ago, I thought I was just being witty, albeit certainly trite, by creating this little word play .. "addicted to my addict". Now, that I have finally mustered up the strength to _let_ the man walk away, I am confronted with a terrible omnipresent withdrawal effect. It isn't just a mild depression underlying my every activity (no matter how much fun is involved), it is also physical. I don't have much appetite, I've lost a lot of weight, my chest hurts (I suppose, this is what they call heart-ache), and when I think too much about the fact that I have really lost the love of my life, I begin breaking out in hives.
And so, I count the days and I acknowledge every hour I spend _not_ thinking of him. There aren't many of those, yet, but I trust that this feeling of loss & grief (or maybe it _is_ addiction) cannot last forever.
I try to distract myself as if the devil were chasing me. It's ridiculous. I'm in dance classes all weekend, I go to the movies, do volunteer work, hit the gym, bury myself with paperwork in the office and, and, and. Also, I've signed up w/ two online dating services, not necessarily because I want to date anyone (_soo_ not ready) but because it helps to redirect all my romantic thoughts. Instead of reminiscing sadly about the past and wondering about a future that could never be, I read about all these seemingly good/down-to-earth guys who are interested in me. I hardly talk to anyone. And if I do, it doesn't go past an email or two. What a waste of money.
Those guys are probably all just trying to get over someone, as well. Or, as my friend G says, they're all married. - What? No!
There's this funny quote I read on thinkexist.com today: "According to a recent survey, men say the first thing they notice about women are their eyes, and women say the first thing they notice about men is that they're a bunch of liars." I think, I'm finally getting/accepting this.
What hurts the most, though, is the way J spoke to me in this last interaction two weeks ago. He sent me a slew of horribly insulting messages. It was heartbreaking and enraging at the same time to read the garbage he was sending.
I tried to remind myself that he had just not reached the level of emotional maturity needed in times of distress ... in times of break up. My ex-husband turned into that same disgusting foul-mouth when we split up and he very well knew (and admitted) that it was _he_ who messed up our marriage. I had been the best wife I could be to that man…for 12 years we were together. Anyway…that’s another story.
I don't understand, how this sudden discard works. I don't think I could ever blurt out whatever insult springs to mind just because I'm upset. Certain things you _just_ don't say, no matter what. After all, this is a person you supposedly love (or loved)...someone you (should) respect, and (should) overall wish good things for.
It was hard to keep my mouth shut. God knows I wanted to yell right back at him. Ask him how he could possibly be saying such awful things after all that I had done for him, after all the love I had given to him, after everything I've stood by him for.
I wanted to bark angry insults back, as well, but I didn't want to hurt his feelings! ... Something is seriously wrong with me. Man insults me in most horrific ways and I don't respond because I __don't want to hurt his feelings__. It would be comical if it weren't so sad.
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