Did I get work done? Hells no. I listened to Alicia Keys (her new album is fab for a break up), read more of my current break up book, and wrote more in my journal. I considered this a success. Why? Because I managed to put myself together (even though I was wearing no make-up, sporting Pumas, and a hoodie) and get out the door. I was moving through the world. I ordered a hot chocolate. I sat and read, wrote, and thought. I didn't break down.
Every few minutes the pang of "he's gone" hit me, startle me, and throw me off balance. It's sort of like having menstrual cramps--out of nowhere BAM!, the tightness moves in, and releases. Unfortunately there's no remedy for it except waiting it out until the pain ceases.
When I got home (purposefully a few minutes before I told him I would be), I expected him to be there. I wanted him to be there. "Are you there?" No answer. Just evidence that he'd been through--his laptop there, more dirty clothes in his chair, mail on the table. I'd missed him. I was relieved and devastated. I know seeing him isn't healthy for me, but there's another part of me--the part still desperately in love with him--that doesn't care how much it hurts. I'm not ready to let go.
I haven't cried in over four hours. Yet another success. I downloaded some music from a musician I loved in divinity school. A small indulgence for me. So was the hot chocolate. And I'm telling my friends. Their chorus of "WTF???"s is surprisingly helpful. Good to know I wasn't the only one duped into thinking we were a couple who would last.