The next morning I woke up. Rested because of the sleep aid. I don’t know what it was that he gave me, but it worked great. I was still so sad. But I got up and called my Dad. I told him I didn’t want to talk to Mom about it now. She’d just ask me something awful like “What did you do to make this happen?” A meteor could hit me and it would somehow be my fault in her eyes. I wasn’t up for it. He asked if he could tell her. I said sure. I told him I’d call her in a few days once I was over the initial stuff.
I hung up and went to shower. My sister asked if she could call Dad while I showered. I said sure. I cried in the shower. I couldn’t help it. My sister offered to make some breakfast, I really wasn’t interested. We just crashed. I don’t remember what we talked about. I remember being in a ball the whole time. At one point she suggested a nap then maybe going to a movie. I said sure. I gave her my phones again.
She napped. It was hard on her. She later said it was the most exhausting and stressful weekend she’d ever had. I believe it.
While she napped I pulled out my computer. I had employee evaluations due on Friday (the day before) that I had gotten a pass on but they needed to get done. I started them but couldn’t really get into a groove. Instead I wrote him a letter. I typed for quite a while. I don’t know what the letter said. I destroyed it later, along with 3 or 4 others that I wrote in the next few months. I know those 3 or 4 were filled with hate, venom, and anger. They called him names. But the first letter I think was filled with sadness. All the sadness that was in my soul. Probably some anger too. Wistfulness. And a lot of pain. But I tried to get it out and into that letter.
My sister woke up and asked me how I was. I was GREAT! Not just GREAT but
GREAT!
I was manic. I was going 100 miles an hour. I had sloughed off that sadness and anger. It was gone! I was a new woman! I didn’t need him or his crap! I was just fine, thankyouverymuch!
She looked at me like I was an alien. Like I had done a backwards flip, cannon balling right off the deep end while she was sleeping. She said something like, “What have you been up to?” I responded I wrote him a letter. Her face went white. I explained it was on my computer and I was not going to send it or anything, I just needed to get it out. She regained some color and explained that she was worried that I had come in an taken my phones back while she was sleeping. No, I assured her, I was not “that girl.”
We ate some left over sloppy joe’s (seriously I would eat her sloppy joe’s every meal of every day if I could.) Then I started slipping. Soon enough I was back in the fetal position. No wonder they call it “manic depressive.” So she scooped me up and we went to a movie. Alice in Wonderland in 3D. It was a pretty day out. The kind of day that promises Spring. The movie was good (my first 3D movie.) The whole time I was still in a ball. I had my feet up on a handrail and I was curled up. Even my sister noticed.
It is amazing the amount of pain true heartache causes. Physical pain. It was incredible. Friends texted and checked in on me. When I said I was with my sister they sounded relieved. I’m sure they were worried. One friend suggested looking up information on grieving. She put it so well, “He’s dead, he just didn’t have the good graces to actually die.” I put that on my list of “to do’s” when I got home.
Home. It was Saturday. Sunday was the next day and I needed to drive home. I would need to go back to that place that would remind me of him. I needed to clean his stuff out and make it available for when he was coming on Friday. The sheer thought of it started the waterworks again. Throwing it all away. Photos, gifts, tokens, what should stay and what should go?
Through all of it…I knew he’d come back. I knew. Like a mother knows the specific sound of her child’s cry. I knew he would be back. That deep gut instinct that my Mother always told me to follow said, in a very quiet whisper, “Don’t worry, he’ll be back.” I know, with hindsight being 20/20 it is easy to say this now. But I knew.
But he didn’t call, or email, or text the whole weekend. Nothing. I heard nothing from him. Every time I thought about it I got sadder. Every time my blackberry dinged I checked. It was never him. Every time I wanted it to ding, it wasn’t him either (or anyone else.) I had to change that ding. The ding reminded me of him. So a new ding was chosen. Silly yes, but it had to happen. That stupid gut instinct had to be shut the hell up. He didn’t want me. He had thrown me away like a piece of garbage. I was nothing to him. He had already forgotten about me. I was not even a part of his memory anymore.
We didn’t do much that night. A boy called my sister to talk. They had just started talking on Match.com. I told her I was going to take a walk. She said no, she’d handle it. She told the boy what had happened and that she just couldn’t talk now, but could she call him on Sunday when I left? He said yes. Take care of your sister, we’ll talk again soon.
Their 2 year anniversary is coming up.
Saturday night found me laying on the comfort couch…really other than to use the bathroom and go to the movie I didn’t leave it. I was looking at the sleeping pills.
Were there enough?
Could I take them all and be done with the pain and sadness? The one person I cared about most of all…the one person who made me believe in soul mates…didn’t want me. I wasn’t going to find anyone else like him. He was unique. So what if I ended it? Did I really want to live in a world without him? That would show him, wouldn’t it!? I'd make sure they told him it was all his fault! I could be done with all of it and someone else could clean up the mess.
I put the pills down. He wasn’t worth it. Again, I wasn’t “that girl.” The one who killed herself over a stupid boy. I may have wished/begged for Death to come and put me out of my misery, but I was not going to help the Reaper along. Instead I prayed. I prayed to St. Jude (Patron Saint of lost causes, and frankly my Patron Saint) to help me. I asked that St. Jude help me get through this. That he help me be happy again. I didn’t want R back. I wasn’t asking for the world, I just wanted to feel happy again someday. I needed some strength.
I took one pill and I went to sleep...
crying.
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