Mending

I would be lying through my teeth if I said that I was over my breakup.  I am not.  Not even close.

My first serious relationship ended two weeks ago today.  For him, I'm sure it was clean cut.  But for me, it was not.  You remember how when you were a kid and you had a tooth that was so loose it was literally hanging by a single gummy thread?  You know that you should just pull the tooth because it hanging there is driving you nuts, but you don't want to because you're afraid it will hurt too much.  So you just let it hang until the tooth falls out on it's own.  It may fall off tomorrow.  It may take weeks or months.  That's how this break-up feels to me.  I don't want to just yank the tooth out because I know it's going to hurt a lot.  So it's just hanging there.

Adjusting to life without that someone is so difficult.  I know that all of you knew that already.  I knew that well before this relationship ever began. Everyday, I encounter countless moments that make me think "He would have gotten a kick out of that."  I find article/stories/pictures I would have posted on his Facebook wall.  I have personal triumphs that I would have boasted about to him.  I had a big test this morning.  I felt fantastic about how I did and my first instinct when I walked out of the classroom was to text him about how I did.  It wasn't until his name showed up on my phone screen that I realized that I couldn't do that anymore.  The triumph of acing the test didn't matter as much once I remembered that I can't share moments like that with him anymore.  And that's a really sad realization to face.  Those few minutes after the test, I was the most excited I've been about anything in 2 weeks.  To have to stop yourself from sharing that excitement with the person that you love is so disheartening.  It's heartbreaking.  I'm very lucky to have a wonderful friend that I could text to share my triumph with, one's who's already done so much for me throughout all of this.  But, I still miss getting to share those personal triumphs with him. I took a big step today and deleted his telephone number from my cell phone.  It was hard.  It hurt.  I hated doing it.  I hated myself for doing it.  But it was necessary.

Despite all of that, I honestly believe I've started to heal a little.  It's a very slow heal—just a tiny bit at a time.  But I think it's definitely there.  I've gotten some of my focus back (It's a miracle that I felt as good as I did about my test this morning considering I've had absolutely zero focus these past two weeks).  I actually felt cheery at work today.   I could feel the enthusiasm for school that I lost return a little bit today.  Very small things that I've always taken for granted are starting to peek their heads out from under the covers.  The hurt and the pain and the grief are not gone.  But they're becoming less consuming.  I can't see the light at the end of the tunnel yet.  But I'm starting to hear rumors of its existence.  And I'm so grateful for that.  These past two weeks have been rough.  I've begged.  I'm pleaded.  I've sobbed.  I've cursed.  I've screamed.  I've had noise complaints from neighbors (so embarrassing). I've hurt the people who still love me.  I've lost my ever loving mind.  But you have to hit rock bottom before you can start making your way back to the surface.  I think I've hit that rock bottom (or at least I hope to God that I have.  Because if what I've experienced wasn't rock bottom, I'm terrified of what I'll find when I get there).

I think my mending has begun.  Little normalcies are making their way back. It's a very small start, but I'll take any sort of progress over where I've been.