how is it

It’s weird when I wake up and start writing down my dreams and while writing them down I suddenly realize how connected they are to my real life and where all the images are coming from. Strange. 

I wanted to come here yesterday and write a post IGNORING MY BREAKUP and the subsequent heartache from it, but couldn’t bring myself to do it and still can’t today. Yesterday was really fucking hard. My style of crying is getting weirder. In the middle of the day after I ate my lunch at the table, I started sobbing deep heavy sobs that shook my shoulders but NO TEARS. Very weird. Several times during the day I cried maybe 4 or 5 tears at a time, my eyes welling up and then spilling out, and then it was over. It’s strange how casual crying has become, how integrated into my daily life. It only takes 5 minutes or so sometimes and then I am on to something else. Other times it takes longer. 

So I was feeling pretty crappy yesterday and then I finally got a chance to talk to Kirsten which lifted my spirit and then I did a 5-mile bike ride to yoga because even though it was cold and grey it wasn’t raining. The bike ride helped a lot, and so did yoga. It was one of the most challenging classes I’d ever taken at the studio which was interesting. I enjoyed it but could tell the other people were kind of being left in the dust and getting frustrated. I ran into the instructor on my way out and thanked her for the class. I felt compelled to tell her that maybe she should focus more on modifications for everyone because some of the people seemed lost and I heard a lot of them saying that as well when they left the class, but I didn’t. Instead I just got back on my bike and rode the 5 miles home and I was happy and stretched and my muscles felt good. 

When I walked into the house, my roommate and one of her best friends (who is the person who originally connected me to my roommate) were JUST pulling a tray of macaroni and cheese out of the oven, and they scooped me out some and we all sat drinking wine and eating on the floor of the living room. Very sweet. My roommate and I have been getting along much better although WE HAVE MICE. Which I knew when I moved in because there was a dead mouse in the basement (my office). But there are more than just the dead one because every night they sneak into the pantry and eat stuff. I tried to mouse-proof all my food but there’s still finding things to get into. It doesn’t creep me out too much, actually, I’m not scared of them. I just don’t want them to eat my things. Or come into my room while I’m sleeping. 

Blah blah, work is crazy and exhausting. I need to fully unpack. Blah blah.

I think I am going to propose a hang out session with Eric. I am trying not to get too attached to the idea of it that I have in my head, but I’m hoping for a sleepover, perhaps sometime next week. It’s not an idea that I’m taking lightly and actually not one that I would let myself have until I talked to my therapist on Monday, who encouraged me to keep my mind open to different possibilities. This (pretty much) no contact rule that we’ve had in place I think has been helpful but is also pretty extreme. Most people have to repeat their cycles, she said, in order to break free of them. And, she told me, there’s a difference between blindly repeating a cycle and doing it with consciousness and awareness. She asked me why I was afraid to spend time with him, and my answer is because I’m afraid that we’ll suddenly change our minds and decide to get back together, but that fear I think may be unfounded. I know, have always known, since BEFORE we broke up that we needed to break up. Neither of us have wavered on that fact since it happened and we both agree that it is the best course of action. BUT both of us are in a lot of pain and both of us have lost someone very close to us. The very person that would normally help us through this kind of pain. 

And truth be told, I need someone to fucking hold me. I don’t feel safe enough with anyone else around me and Eric has been that person for me for the past four years. When I said this to my therapist she asked me, "Is it possible for him to still be that person for you? For now?" I hadn’t really thought about it. I’d assumed that no, he couldn’t. But she is forcing me to see outside of the rules that I’ve arbitrarily set for myself. There is no RIGHT way to break up, there is no rulebook, she tells me. "But I only want to make positive progress, I don’t want to take any steps back," I say. I can tell she wants to laugh but doesn’t want to offend me. "That would be great, if you can do it," she says, "But most people can’t. Most people need to repeat cycles before they can break free of them."

I talked about it with Kirsten yesterday, and she agrees with my therapist and seems encouraged that she leaned that way. So I think I am going to propose a sleepover to Eric. Where we can both get what we want and need from each other. And I know it’s going to be both comforting and horribly heartbreaking. I know there will be lots of tears, oceans and oceans of them. But I need a place to let them out. Somewhere that’s not in my bed, alone, while I’m trying to fall asleep. Somewhere where I can feel the love surrounding me. Where I have physical closeness with another person, feel someone else’s touch. IT IS INCREDIBLY THERAPEUTIC TO BE TOUCHED. I am learning this now that I don’t have it in my life. Being touched releases TONS OF ENDORPHINS that really help you get through the day. 

My mantras lately have been "stop" and "fuck." Weird since I don’t use the F-word too often these days, but it has come back full force since the break up. It circles around my head "fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck" And then when something is upsetting me, when my mind starts drifting back to painful memories, a voice inside my head says "STOP." I don’t know whether I’m telling myself to stop thinking about it, or I’m just saying it to the pain: STOP, LEAVE ME ALONE. But it just pops into my head. STOP. 

My life continues to be intentionally busy. Tonight is the last episode of 3 Naked Gurlz on the Radio. Kristin is too bitter about the station’s shut down to come, so Chelsea and I are doing it together. We’ve applied to do another show on a different Internet radio station and hopefully will be set up there soon. LIFE MOVES ON. It’s different but it’s OK. I am learning / living / surviving. It is not that desperate. Except when it is.