I read this post earlier this week about how it’s been six months since Danielle’s breakup, and I can’t stop thinking about it. As of this week, it’s been six months since my breakup as well. April 19 was the day that everything went down, and all the lies and the tears and the end took over my life. Six months to be a whole different person, but to be the same person all together. Six months went by in a flash, but at the same time they were the slowest six months of my life. They were especially slow in the dark moments when the happy memories all but overcame me (and made me feel desperately sad because they were gone). But damn it, I survived. It reminds me of this post on one of my favorite blogs celebrating that we survived the summer of 2010 – I feel exactly the same way.
Six months have passed, and thank God the oil spill is done so that ridiculous countdown can end (if you are a new reader, my breakup corresponds with the BP oil spill. Check out my Open Letter to BP from awhile back). In Danielle’s post about her six months from her breakup, she says, “Eventually I’d like to be able to be in the same space as him without feeling so resentful or without having my heart jump out of my chest.” She talks about her anger toward him. I’m almost bothered that I really don’t feel much anger anymore. Things were easier when I wanted to call him bad names for breaking my heart two and a half months before my dream wedding. They were easier when I could talk about this jerk of a man who did me so wrong. The other day, when trying to describe what had happened, I said, “He was not a good man.” And even after I said that, I didn’t believe it to be true anymore. He made mistakes. He did some things that were completely unforgiveable, but that doesn’t make him a bad man. He just wasn’t a good man for me, anymore. Maybe he never was.
My scenario of sitting in the room with my ex fiancée is much different than Danielle’s. I don’t think I’d be overwhelmed with anger, and I certainly don’t think I’d have a hard time being civil to him. I think I’d be overwhelmed with my desire to talk with him. To see how he’s doing. What’s been happening in his life. To reconnect with this person that was my best friend for so many years. I found out recently his father was sick, really sick and in the hospital, and I felt terrible that I couldn’t be there for his family. That it was no longer my place to visit the hospital, to comfort my ex, to be a part of their family. This was an incredibly sad realization.
So the anger is gone, for the most part (it creeps back every once in a while, and usually corresponds with alcohol intake). It’s interesting to me – I used to always think, how do people stay with someone that did them wrong? How do they take that person back, knowing what they did, seeing it in their face every single day? How do they eat cereal across from someone at the kitchen table each morning, and not want to yell and scream because of the pain this person who supposedly loved them caused? I never understood how someone could take that person back and continue to live life as though nothing had ever happened. It’s not as hard for me to comprehend as it used to be. The pain of what that person did to you, the lies, the cheating, whatever they did, it becomes part of you. The longer you know about it, it stops shocking you so much. It’s just a fact: This person did me wrong. He has green eyes. We started dating in July of 2003. He has one brother and a dog that hated me. I never saw him without facial hair – not once. And he did me wrong. Terribly wrong. But it’s just a fact, like his green eyes or his beard. This man hurt me, but now that the shock and the overwhelming sadness over it have passed, I can live with it. That’s a strange realization and I’m still trying to figure out what it means.
Another significant date is coming up – October 31. For most people, this is the day that you take the kids trick-or-treating, you dress up for Halloween parties, you use the day as an excuse to eat a dozen miniature Snickers bars (the calories don’t count when they are miniature). For me, October 31 marks a year since my ex proposed to me. It was the day that I moved in with him and he proposed to me on one knee out in front of his house. I can remember his hands shaking he was so nervous, and I can remember the excitement as I paced around his house, calling anyone and everyone to tell them the news. It’s funny, those people I called were the first people I called when it was all over.
I’m not sad I’m not getting married anymore, those feelings passed (thankfully) shortly after my unwedding day passed. But you know that question people ask in business, “What keeps you up at night?” What keeps me up at night is that I will never feel so loved ever again. The feeling when he proposed to me – that I knew that this man, this man that I’d loved for as long as I could remember, wanted to marry me. He wanted to spend his life with me, have children with me, share his future with me. I’ve never felt as special – as unconditionally loved – as I did on that day. I’m afraid I’m never going to have that feeling again.
So it’s been six months. I’m happy where I am now. I love my friends and family. I’ve had a lot of fun times. I’m excited about my new friends I’ve made, through this blog and also just by being more open to new people and experiences. I love my apartment, and I’m starting to feel like this life is actually the life I was supposed to have.
Six months have passed and I’m excited about the person I’m becoming. When October 31 comes, I hope that I’ll be eating candy and thinking about the fun I had at a party in my ridiculous bumble bee costume, instead of what it felt like to be proposed to. And I can’t wait to see where I’ll be six months from now, a year from now, ten years from now. It may not be the life I’d expected, but it’s the life I’m learning to love more and more every day.