I woke up sobbing this morning. I had a dream that broke my heart and before I was even awake I had texted him. He replied.
He replied. For those of you who have been ghosted by your “toxic” partner you know the adrenaline that comes when they acknowledge you. It was all that had to happen for the wound to rip back open. We exchanged a few brief words, he wished me well and ended with “Good luck with everything”. Is that his new equivalent of goodbye?
If I’m lucky, right? If I’m lucky I never hear from him again, we both move on and I forget the life we had built, the future we had planned. I forget that I never expected to be alone again. Ironic. Wasn’t I already alone? No, I had the ever present company of my own anxiety. My own fear.
I have to stop romanticizing the partner that only existed in my mind, and start remembering how miserable I was, how bad it was, how close I was to ending my own life. I have to remember that I pushed him that day because it came down to him or me and for once, I protected ME.
So yes, I am crying, I am sad, I am feeling emotions I thought I had finally moved past. But do you know what I’m not doing? I’m not reaching out to him. I’m not taking a drive through his neighborhood, I’m not stalking his social media. I’m not allowing my emotions to take over. This is what I did instead:
I learned some new CSS and checked out some new plugins.
I went to visit my daughter and granddaughter.
I went to the book store and picked up some new books to review.
I came home and made myself my favorite treat (Poke Nachos).*
I texted and talked to some friends.
I played Pokémon with my son.
I took care of the giant spider in the basement! *
* These items are important because I previously thought I needed “him” to do these things. I don’t, I never did. I am perfectly capable of making my own damn nachos and getting the spider out of the basement while my grown ass son stands on a chair screaming! FML.