I just got a call from D and he has delayed our meeting, as I thought he might. He knows I don’t have my kids this weekend and has requested we meet Saturday morning for breakfast. I can’t take much more of this. I feel like a hot hot mess. He casually asked me about my day, my week, my weekend as if nothing has been wrong. He acted like things were just…fine.
I feel achy and sick about all of this and felt anxious all day about seeing him. I feel like a yo you on a string he can yank. When I start to drift a bit, he yanks the string just far enough he can control it. I hate this. I realize he is conflicted and confused about what he really wants. I get that most of his struggles are his to own and can not and will not be fixed at a Denny’s on a Saturday morning. I just want to know why the abrupt proclamation of his need to live abroad and figure out his life. Again, the WHY? I probably will never see a clear answer to.
I stopped in the middle of the conversation and understood his plan wasn’t to hammer out any resolution on the telephone but instead to keep me waiting anxiously to see him. I realize he might be thinking he can double back and regain momentum with me if he plays this out a little longer. I feel like I was scheduled to run a marathon but in the moments before the gun went off to signal the start, the race was canceled. I feel, let down. Again.
I’m sure every friend I have would tell me I’m a stupid idiot for even entertaining the notion of pancakes with a man who has caused me four days of literal hell. I ‘m sure my mother would slap my hand and walk me clear into a straight jacket if I told her I agreed to see him. Yet, I know there are many out there who will understand the pain I’m feeling and the small, tiny, molecular slice of hope that remains in my gut for him. I know, its ludicrous. Strap me in and throw me in a padded room. I’m a glutton for punishment and won’t be happy until he slices the last bit of my sweet heart into pieces. Maybe, then, I’ll realize. It’s over.
Tonight I’m going to open a bottle of red and relax alone on my couch. I am not going to wallow in tears tonight but instead take solace in the fact that I have made it through several of the most emotionally draining days of my life. I guess, a small celebration for me. A realization, I’m going to be ok.
All kidding aside, my tummy hurts, my heart aches and my head is pounding. My type B body isn’t used to such stress and isn’t sure whether I’ve just run a marathon or had a heart attack. Either way, I owe my precious body some gratitude for allowing me to grieve this week while keeping the lump in my throat and tears in my eyes at bay at appropriate times. I am sad, confused and getting stronger each moment of these awful days. I know this but it doesn’t make the prospect of tomorrow any easier. Another day to wait and worry. Another day with no real answers. OR…another day with the answers, just not the closure I so desire.
For now, I must keep swimmming…which is difficult with one arm and leg tied behind your head. Ugh.
we can’t
predict
what
will
happen
tomorrow.
we can however
live.
today.
xoxo
day four. No meeting. Still waiting.
