March - Part 3

Sunday I woke up, knowing I had to go home that day. It was awful. I couldn’t stay in my cocoon on the “comfort couch” any longer. I had to go home. I had to go to work on Monday.

I’m sure we ate something…or at least my sister did for breakfast. Another movie was probably watched, showers taken. Then she mentioned that the Oscar Meyer Weinermobile was going to be in town and she really wanted to see it. She suggested lunch afterwards at my favorite restaurant eating my favorite thing…chicken flippers. They are strips of chicken with a beer batter cover, deep fried with French fries. Delish.

I was not interested. The Weinermobile, sure. But no on the flippers. I just couldn’t eat.

So we went to the Wienermobile and looked around, climbed inside, got some pictures, and even got our whistles for singing the Bologna song from our youth. The photos are good. If you didn’t know me, you would think that they were just photos of a good time.

However,

if you know me you know that there was something wrong. You can see the pain in my eyes. You can see the struggle to smile. You can tell.

I didn’t want to go to lunch.  I knew I wouldn’t be able to finish the meal. Not even the 4 or 5 delicious golden fried chicken flippers I so cherish.  But I knew I needed to eat something. If I didn’t I would have a bad ride home. I needed some sort of fuel. So we went for flippers. I ate 2 or 3. Not all, and not many fries. I just couldn’t. So my sister took them home.

Then I started driving home. Most of the 3.5 hour drive was uneventful. Until I got to the metro area I live in. I live on the west side of the metro and I had to cross through it to get home. I didn’t think it would be an issue. But then I saw a silver SUV.

just like his.

I went into a huge anxiety attack with my stomach flipping and palms sweating. I started crying again. The hit of anxiety came every time I saw a car like his. This went on for months.

I had one stop to make on my way home. My friend Sally’s house. She was doing my hair that day. So I stopped. I asked her to shave it all off. My sister had called her before I got there and had warned her that I was pretty wounded so she knew what to expect. Sally had also been one of the friends who had kept in touch all weekend to make sure I was ok.

Sally refused to shave it off, but she would cut it shorter, into something I really wanted. She said that if I still wanted it all shaved off in one month she would do it. No questions asked. But right now was not the time to make this drastic of a decision. We talked. She colored and cut. Another friend was there as well. I poured out my heart. But I didn’t cry, so that was something.  On my way out Sally asked if I had been eating. I said not really no. I couldn’t commit to eating anything hard. Banana’s were ok. Beyond that I was not interested.  She looked at me and said, “No one else is going to say this, but me. We’re big girls and we have the extra stored up. Don’t eat if you don’t want to. It’s ok.”

I went home. I cleaned out his things and put them in bags for him to pick up. I took down all the pictures. I put the gifts in bags to be sent to Goodwill. I purged anything that reminded me of him. I went to bed, knowing that the next day was going to be the first of many hard days. 

And as it does, the next day came. And the day after that. And then another. I walked around with a cloud over my head that I was sure was visible to everyone. The pain was still there but it had dulled a bit.  I would cry. I was very angry. I tried contacting him. I threatened to bring him to small claims court due to a vacation we were supposed to go on that I had paid for and he promised to reimburse me for and never did.

THEN

I had an epiphany. I needed to let it go. I needed to stop carrying the anger in my heart. I needed to just stop.  I called one last time to say I forgive the debt. That I hope he was happy and that I wished him well. And I let go. Like releasing a balloon my anger went away. I felt better. Not just for a few minutes or hours but I felt better. Like by letting that go, I was finally letting him go.

And I had fun. I went on vacations with my girlfriends. I went to New Orleans and Puerto Rico for long weekends. I took a hip hop dance class and I LOVED it. I took a tap class and liked it a lot less. I went out to dinner or for drinks almost every night. I joined Match.com and I went out on dates with lots of men. I met several guys I liked. I had coffee with one guy for about an hour. He liked me too but decided to see another girl instead and he had a rule about one at a time.

No worries. I understood. It was Match after all. We were all in the same hunt and just because someone didn’t jump at me didn’t mean they didn’t get to jump at someone else. We connected but it was ok. I understood.

Then I went up north for a girls weekend. I brought cute clothes and an even cuter attitude. I was ready for some real fun.