#quarantinebreakup

I’m not good at dropping people and moving along as if they never mattered to me.  It appears that R is the type of person who can.  And that’s alright- I’d much rather be a person who can have healthy, and intimate, and truly meaningful connections with the people I’m involved with.  If I was able to end things on Wednesday by blocking R and then not thinking twice about it... I’d be genuinely concerned about the type of person I had become and my lack of empathy or mental stability.

1.  Get out of the house.  I went to breakfast with a friend on Sunday and then we went to Target.  It helped a tiny bit and then was okay until it really wasn’t.  I started to have a minor panic attack in Target and just wanted to leave right away and get home.  Thanks to masks still being required, my face was covered and nobody could really tell anything was going on, but internally, I was going nuts.

2.  Getting some fresh air.  I spent lots of time outside.   I love summer weather and even though some of my time outside probably made my fever worse, it’s better than having stayed inside nonstop for a week.

3.  I read lots of articles on breakups and processing them, as well on some about ghosting and being ghosted.  My mom sent me a couple to read as well.

4.  I have been journaling daily and blogging, because writing has helped me get through similar life events before.

5.  I talked this through with multiple people.  My parents, my brothers, my best friend, a couple other friends, Instagram friends, and Facebook friends.  I don’t usually bring these things up on social media, but I couldn’t pretend to be okay and I needed as many outlets as possible.

6.  I’m going to start DisneyBounding again.  I’ve always loved Disney and expressing my sense of style through Disney fashion- but I haven’t done any of that since the end of March, after I met R.  Not that he stopped me, I just didn’t really do it anymore.  Apparently it’s helpful to get back into hobbies and activities that are important to you that you may have let go of during your relationship.

7.  Crafting.  I was doing some of this toward the end, because during the last month I was starting to feel unwanted and like things weren’t right and crafting has always helped to make me feel better.  I’m going to try to continue with that and maybe take part in a craft fair to see if I can make some sales in October!

8.  Snuggling with my dogs- because that never hurts, no matter the situation.

9.  Once I get to a point where I don’t feel like interacting with other people will potentially put me into a panic or give me extreme anxiety- I’m going to hit the job hunt hard.  But I need to be able to interview without totally losing it.

10.  I watched Legally Blonde.  An article I saw said that it was a good breakup movie.  I haven’t felt like watching much lately- especially my comfort or favorite movies because I don’t want them tainted by this memory or this feeling.  I don’t want to remember how this felt.  I want this to be a vague memory, like my breakup with J.

11.  I’m going to get out of town and change the scenery. This weekend, my brother and I are going to visit our brother in Virginia.  I think it’ll really help to take a short trip and do something new.

12.  I’m going to to go the movies since I enjoy going to the movies.  That was apparently a huge deal breaker with R.  I just wonder why he was so adamant against going to movies... I wonder if there was some kind of stress or fear associated with the movie theatre for him?

Okay. DEVELOPMENT. That f*cker blocked me on Facebook. We were never even friends... Because he said he only used it for messenger for his family. I was hardly on it so I figured it wasn't a big deal. What the hell???? Y'all, was this asshole seeing someone else before he ended things with us and just doesn't want me to be able to see if he changes his profile pic or something? I checked using another profile and he is still indeed on Facebook, I just can't see him searching through my profile. Jesus Christ. What a gut punch. I wish I could hurt him the way he hurt me. Right now I have my certainty. Nothing that I did or tried to do could have fixed this or gotten him to discuss things with me like a functional adult. I'm just disappointed that I believed the version of him that he was showing me. I am irate, I am livid, I am furious, I am sad... But now my anger outweighs my sadness. I'm going to write him off as a post-J rebound. Because he did get me over J and I was wallowing about J for like a solid year.

I've cried for almost 3 days straight now, and it's time to pull myself out of it because now I finally know that he actually is a jerk and that the good guy who I fell in love with is just a character he was playing. He'll never find someone as good as me again who is willing to accept his bullshit after he reveals his true self to them. And maybe that's why he knew he needed to end things... Because he knew I'd do it if he didn't.

I am not okay, but I am more aware now. My heart is still broken, but I'm not still having to try to resist chasing down a fairytale that never really existed.

It’s been 6 months since the breakup.

6 whole months.  It’s difficult to comprehend that that amount of time has passed; quarantine has certainly felt painfully long, but at the same time, I can’t quite process that I’ve been single for half a year.  Am I over the relationship?  I feel like I might be getting to that point, but I can say with absolute certainty that I am not.

Last night I took my dogs out before bed and while I was standing in the backyard, breathing in the crisp fall air (and begrudgingly letting go of summer,) something about the cool scent of the leaves took me back to one of our last weekends together.  It was 5 years ago, the weekend before he moved across the country.  We went to a haunted house- that was the last time I ever went to a haunted house, and with the way things are going, it will be a while before I’m able to safely take part in activities like that again.

I also smelled something that reminded me of him.  I can’t remember what the fragrance was called, or what exactly it reminded me of about our time together, but that’s the first thing I associated with it.

My heart still hurts, but it hurts less.  I also keep asking myself periodically if I still love him, and for the last couple of weeks, the answer has been, “I don’t think so,” which to me is as good as a “no.”  He reaches out every few days or so, usually in a Snapchat message. I respond sometimes, but lately, I’ve just read the messages and then left it at that.

He responded to a photo I’d posted with my dog and referred to him as “my baby boy” and I didn’t reply.  My babies aren’t his babies- especially not  now.  They never were.  I remember before I got my first pup, I excitedly messaged him to let him know- we both loved corgis- in fact, he’d gotten me hooked on all of the corgi photo accounts and memes.  He responded with “and this seems like a good financial decision right now?”  So no, this “financial decision” is not your baby.

Lately, despite all of the sadness that has come along with covid and quarantine, I find myself rediscovering my worth and becoming more confident in myself as a human and recognizing that I am deserving of someone wonderful.  I think that if I had dated in high school or even college, and had more experience with guys and their behaviors, I would have never put up with most of the things my ex did.  But being with him, my first boyfriend, gave me a weird sense of validation, and since I didn’t know any better, I assumed that what we had was normal, and just how some relationships were, and since I’d become so deeply invested in it, I persisted and convinced myself things would get better- or at least just be okay.

Today it has been exactly six months since COVID-19 was declared a pandemic by the World Health Organization.  We had a few more days before everything shut down in our town.  I count the day the movie theatre closed as our real lockdown, since that’s the one place I frequented the most.

I was only in a relationship for about two weeks of quarantine before it all fell apart and we ended things.  It’s been nearly six months of being single.  How is this real?  Why doesn’t this feel real?  I mean, it absolutely feels real when I’m crying over a Starbucks drink that reminds me of our first date, when he came with me to Starbucks (his first time going) and drank a hot drink with a straw.  Who does that?!  It feels real when I look at the massive Disney scrapbook I made with all of the photos from the trip we took during our first summer together.  I haven’t been able to bring myself to open that since we broke up, by the way.  It feels real when I see something funny or want to tell him about something and then catch myself and realize, he’s not that person for me anymore.  And it felt real yesterday when I finally put back on the bangle he gave me on our second date, because it’s my dog’s favorite to lick and chew on and he keeps getting disappointed when he goes for my others (which look similar, but aren’t the same.)

But at the same thing it doesn’t feel real that someone who was in my life, in such a prominent role, for over 5 years, just isn’t there anymore.  How do I fill that void?  Do I even attempt to fill it?

I wonder when it will stop hurting and when I’ll be able to look back on him like I look back at some of the other guys I’ve let go of and who were once important to me but now no longer a part of my life.  I wonder how I will move on when in person dating is virtually impossible right now and online dating will only get me so far- especially since I’ve learned the hard way that online friendships can pan out way differently in real life.  And why invest a ton of time in something like that right now when it will take meeting in person to truly know if we vibe well?  I wonder about a lot... especially what life will be like when we’re finally rid of this pandemic.

Today is his birthday.  He rarely remembered mine, but I always remembered his.  Yesterday I was at home alone with my dogs, and thought it might be  nice to video chat for a bit, just to catch up.  We’ve been over for nearly 100 days (that’s still unreal to me) but I still have this strange desire to keep him in my life, as a friend, if we can make that work.

I talked most of the time; that’s how our conversations always were.  I didn’t mind this time though because I wanted to talk.  I wanted to catch him up on (some of) what’s going on with me.  I wanted to see how he was, even though I know I shouldn’t care.

He looked good.  His new tattoo looked good, like really good.  We talked for a while like we used to... granted eventually the conversation would typically devolve into a less pleasant experience because he’d get bored, or pay more attention to whatever he was watching or playing, but I think being apart for so long made a difference.

We talked about memories, about what’s going on in the world right now... Well, I talked about what’s going on in the world right now.  He tried to get me to “let it out” a couple times when he thought I was on the verge of going off about our relationship, but I didn’t.  It was just him misreading things.  I made a couple jokes he thought were metaphors for us, but I quickly corrected him, because they weren’t... but in retrospect, they could have been.

We chatted for probably 4.5 hours.  It didn’t seem like that long.  He stayed up 3 hours past his bedtime.  I remember when we used to talk like this 5 years ago.  We’d text until the early hours of the morning and then he’d be groggy for work or class the next morning, but he was okay with it- because it was worth it.

Shortly after midnight I wished him a happy birthday; I was the first one to tell him Happy Birthday, or at least one of the first because I got it in right at midnight.

He made a comment about me not liking some photos he’d posted from another country he was in for work.  He very rarely posts anything, especially photos.  I did see the post.  I intentionally didn’t react to or comment on it because it hurt my heart that he was posting things that I wasn’t a part of, that I won’t be a part of anymore.  I acted like I hadn’t noticed, but jokingly I told him I’d like it right away, so I did, and then I left a comment as well.  It was silly, but it makes me feel a little better that he noticed... it helps to know that I’m still on his mind in some capacity.

He gave me video tour of his hotel, I noticed his one suitcase (he always packed way lighter than me,) and his crunchy peanut butter- a staple in his diet.  I prefer smooth.

At least I was until about two hours ago.  I finally bit the bullet and removed him from almost all social media.  I left Facebook, but "took a break" from him- that's a thing on Facebook now!  Not that it matters; he posts maybe three times a year.  I did block him from seeing any of my posts unless I tag him in them.  I left one channel of communication available because I didn't let him know I was doing any of it... not that I owed it to him, but I thought I'd leave one channel open temporarily in case there's anything else he wants to say.

I felt short of breath when I removed him from my Instagram followers and then started to choke up when I unfollowed him on Instagram.  Snapchat was our main method of communication recently since he's overseas and can't text, and I removed him from my friends.  When our chat disappeared, I cried.  I had saved so many chats, even gone back to read some of them because I wanted some happy memories.  Now they're all gone.  I opened Facebook to unfriend him, to cut ties altogether, but turned it off instead and got into the shower and cried harder than I've cried in weeks.  Crumpled over with the hot water beating on my back, streaming down my face with my tears, I cried so deeply that I felt it throughout my body.  I know I’m going to feel a physical manifestation of this all day tomorrow.

I'm listening to Taylor Swift's folklore album.  It was just released 49 minutes ago and I'm 6 tracks from the end.  Each song has been a beautiful cut to my vulnerable soul.  It's truly unreal how so much of the sentiment in many of her songs perfectly captures what I'm still going through.  See previous blog post where I discuss not being able to listen to Taylor Swift without crying. I want to start my "Taylor Swift" chapter of quarantine as soon as possible.  I want to take this terrible time, these awful personal events in my life and use them to propel myself into creating something.  Maybe it won't be great, but it will be something.

Lavender whisps lined the sky.  These sunsets were her favorite; the burning orange slowly disappearing into the trees as its soft glow illuminated the outline of the summer evening clouds. They looked lavender.  Her favorite color.  The contrast was sharp, but gorgeous- powerful somehow.  Seeing this just made the whole world feel beautiful- even if only for a moment.

 Bright yellow broke through into her peripheral vision, but not from the sunset.  She didn’t avert her gaze from the vibrant sky, not even to acknowledge the sunflowers begging for her attention.  Mere hours ago, they were one of her most beautiful memories.  Now, those memories were tainted with confusion and pain.  Pain she’d known before, but more intense now.  Pain that makes it difficult to breathe and weighs down one’s entire existence.

 She was sitting- barely upright.  The reclining lawn chair beneath her was the only thing separating her from the ground. She couldn’t stand, not right now, not on her own.  Her body wasn’t hers to control; in that moment, and probably many more to follow, her entirety belonged to her grief and she was at its mercy.

 Loss wasn’t something unfamiliar to her- and one might argue that she’d suffered the same type of loss mere months ago.  But this felt different.  That loss was empty and almost just a matter of going through the motions for the sake of it.  Now it felt real and her entire world was beginning to crumble around her as she sat there, still unable to comprehend the reality of the situation.  This time she lost a piece of herself and the uncertainty surrounding whether she’d ever be able to regain that part of her existence was growing with each passing moment.

 Every time she blinked, she risked reopening her eyes to find only a blur of purple and gold emerging from the fuzzy silhouette of the enormous sweetgum tree towering over her yard. The tears came on their own now, without warning.  Sometimes she didn’t even notice when they’d stop, because they’d surely return soon enough. And there was no correlation between the dryness of her eyes and how devastated she felt.  Whether she was actively crying or staring blankly into space, her insides were on fire, her soul torn in two, and her ability to feel anything but misery was diminished.

 How could one’s heart ache so much for someone it had only known a matter of months?  Her heart clearly couldn’t judge time and felt as though this was so much bigger than five months.  It felt the pain of the months they were supposed to spend getting to know each other better than either of them had known any of their other partners.  It felt the distress of the years they’d spend together growing and building a life they’d both love because they just got each other- right from the beginning.  Her heart and her soul were processing a lifetime of loss because that’s precisely what had been taken from her- a life- a happy life, a life that she had allowed herself to hope for and dream about, knowing that this time, it could actually come to fruition.

 He stole that from her and he did it without a second thought.  He just took it and disappeared without an explanation.  They had plans in a couple days.  They had other plans in a couple weeks.  How did this happen?  She tried to find reason in it.  That’s what you’re supposed to do, right?  If everything happens for a reason, then it has to be okay.  She attempted to discover any silver lining, but every effort she made was futile and only left her more hopeless.

 Time was what she needed- at least according to her loved ones and every piece of literature she could find on the topic.  She scoured dozens of write ups- hoping that she’d find one gem hidden amongst them- just one to indicate what it was that she needed to do to be okay.  Surely others had endured similar loss and could offer up a quick fix that she simply hadn’t thought of on her own.  It would be something simple, easy, fast.  It would take away all of this pain in an instant- and she’d bounce back as if the last five months never happened.

 She would be happy to go back to focusing on her previous loss- the loss that didn’t feel like it even mattered anymore.  The loss that felt like more of a gain, especially recently.  It had been the removal of a negative force in her life.  She had just been so afraid of change that even a positive one seemed terrifying to her.  And it was for a while.  But now she could understand that what happened back then really needed to happen, even if it was meant that she would be a bit broken for a while.

 But isn’t that the beauty of being broken?  You get to put your pieces back together- whether on your own, or with help- and in the end, the mosaic you create is almost always something stronger, more resilient, and more beautiful than before.

 She used to believe this. She had even written this before- but after she painstakingly struggled to gather up most of the jagged pieces of herself that had been left in the rubble of the last life shattering event- the man who aided in reassembling them had turned out to be the biggest threat to the stability of it all.  He was the one who mended her- if her soul could be represented visually, it would manifest as a patchwork quilt with some pieces uneven and not quite stitched together all the way.  Some ends frayed and still actively unraveling- but at a slower pace than they had been.  It would be noticeably worn and delicate but could be okay if taken care of and treated with love. He had woven her back together and she allowed herself to trust him to protect her and to make sure that she’d have a chance- a real chance- at becoming fully healed.

 She never for a moment considered that since he was the architect behind patching her quilt into some semblance of a whole, he was the one who’d know just which thread to tug in order to completely unravel her.

 She hadn’t the chance to heal enough to discover her new self- she was still in the process of doing that-with his help.  He was the key to most of the progress she had made.  Now she was ashamed and embarrassed that she’d so naively handed all of herself over to him, almost immediately tearing down the walls- the safeguards she'd put in place to protect herself.  Her quilt had fallen into a pile of mismatched, frayed pieces- she couldn’t make sense of where any of it as supposed to go or how to even begin putting it back together.

 What type of mosaic could be made from shattered pieces being almost immediately rebroken?  Only this time, shattered smaller- obliterated into what could only be described as dust, with just enough shards scattered throughout that you’d still cut yourself if you attempted to sort through them- forcing her to choose one of two options:  attempt to fix herself on her own and inevitably suffer, or sit there in the pain and allow it to consume her until it had nothing left to torture her.

 Both options were miserable, but sitting in these feelings, in this broken state, involved far less effort than the alternative- which didn’t even offer the promise of any positive outcome, so why bother?

 She didn’t know it then, but in one year’s time, she’d be on her own and happy again- arguably happier than she had been for the last decade.  This was a different type of happiness- one she hadn’t experienced in longer than she could remember.  A happiness where her contentment and joy were derived from within herself and the life she had built with the people who meant the most to her.  There were no external antagonists disguising themselves as the heroes to infiltrate her heart and shatter it, no, she didn’t need those.  She never really needed “another half” to complete herself as some say, but somehow, she had convinced herself that she did.  Her focus on finding purpose and happiness through another being had been her downfall too many times in the past.  There was the silver lining she had been looking for- it was in the lessons she’d learned and the growth she’d made and the strength she found.  It was in all of those things, but it was mostly in the love for herself- the discovery of it, the encouragement, and the vigilant care she took to ensure that she never diminished its true value.