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Three months ago my girlfriend and I split up. It wasn’t the first time and a part of me hoped it wouldn’t be the last time.
After 8 years of on again off again we both realized it wasn’t working. Love isn’t enough, sometimes two people can love each other deeply, truly, and it just doesn’t work. As heartbreaking as it is that is how it goes sometimes. Life isn’t fair, and it will never be, but we make the most of it. We both cried the day I left, talked, comforted each other, and I left knowing that she really tried hard, that she really loves me, and I couldn’t have asked for more.
Did that comfort me? Yes and no. I wanted her, loved her, needed her, and did not want to leave. I told her that, which I am sure broke her heart but it was the truth. I went to my parents’ home and one day later attended my aunt’s viewing, then my uncle’s funeral the next day. I was heartbroken in more ways than one. My company was closing. The grief from everything overwhelmed me. On my way to work the day after the funeral I had a major panic attack. I was shaking all over, my heart was beating so fast in my chest it felt like it would burst, my head was pounding, I couldn’t breathe, and all I could do was pull over.
I pulled over at the first gas station. Sat in the car and tried to catch my breath for about 10 minutes. Then I pulled up to the gas tank. I got gas, something to drink (a Monster Mean Bean–Oh, those are so good!) and then I drove to a park nearby. I sat on the swings and drank my Mean Bean, smoked a cigarette, and tried to relax. (I realize, of course, that a coffee energy drink is probably not the best thing to drink when I am trying to relax but the caffeine actually helps-I know it sounds crazy but it does.)
I got out my pen and notebook and wrote down all the shit I’d been through in the past 7 months and realized I wasn’t completely crazy, but I felt like maybe I was going crazy. So I drove myself to MUSC.
After talking to 3 different doctors, an increase in my anxiety medication, and a reprimand about therapy (I hadn’t been going the last month) I went home. Home, to my parents house not my home because at the time HOME still felt like my exes house. Home was my ex.
But over the last 2 months I’ve missed her less and less. I don’t ache all day, every day for her. I still love her, still want her, and miss her every day, but I am not miserable. I was miserable for the first 2 months. So as each day passes I am a little better. They say it takes half the time you were with someone to get over that person. I’ve had the off time over the last 8 years to help me heal, but what has helped me the most has been moving away. I needed to get away because so much of the memories were intruding into my thoughts. All I wanted was to forget, not that you can, but with everything right in my face it was a bit much. Everything reminded me of her.
Moving to Georgia wasn’t just to get away from all the memories of her, I have family here as well, plus there are more jobs and the jobs pay better. I thought moving to Georgia would sort of “kill two birds with one stone.”
Spending time with my kids, my family members, job hunting, learning my way around, and staying busy have also helped me heal. I know people who get over someone by moving on to someone else. I have never been able to do that. I need time to heal, time alone, time to figure out what wasn’t working and what was.
Each day gets a little better, a little easier, and I am almost ready to socialize. Perhaps once I am working and things are a little more settled in my life I will be able to start socializing. It will be a while before I am ready to date, but at least I’ll be able to go out and make friends.
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Posted by stone on 2008-07-10 00:06:27 | Rating: | Views: 111
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