I do my best to do all of the right things: to ignore the overwhelming desire to wallow. Fall is a nice time of year for me and I didn't want to let a little (haha) heartbreak ruin it. I actually do a lot in just a couple of months. I see almost every close friend of mine and have some really lovely days. Visiting places for the first time. Forcing myself to just keep swimming, like a shark. Or I will fall under. Unfortunately a lot of the time I dread doing things, but I force myself. Do. Not. Wallow. Resist the urge to remain in bed forever. And I'm proud of myself for pushing through, for doing things even though it felt like nothing was worth doing. Like my feet were stuck in quicksand.
I spend a lot of time crying in therapy. Every 2 weeks, I'm embarrassingly weeping under my mask, making it all damp and gross. She asks me, "Is it like this outside of this room?" Yes. I cry when I wake up, on the way to work, at work, on the way home, when I get home. Sometimes not all in the same day. But usually. I couldn't believe a person could cry this much! Over someone that isn't even dead!
I even see him, once. I figure we can watch Halloween for old times sake. But it is different. Oddly normal but still. We are stiff. I don't ask him about her and he doesn't mention her. We eat pizza and talk about surface level things. After the movie ends he leaves. I feel so empty. Our relationship is empty.
I block her instagram from my accounts. Today I had to block her from my company account. (I have access to too many Instagram accounts and I need to not.) I checked her page, and as Drake says "She about to see some shit that she don't wanna see. She ain't ready for it." Never am. Never should have access to these things. I don't need to have a glimpse into what their life is like together. What their favorite restaurant is. How they are in bed. What they talk about. I don't need to see her stupid grandma comment something corny on the photo (I'm sure you're lovely but I fucking despise what you created and how she has made me feel.) I don't need to get into this thought spiral of questions I don't need to know the answers to.
I see things and I think about how I would've bought them for you as Christmas presents, in an alternate universe. This shit burns, but I can't help it. I am a good gift giver, a thoughtful one. It means a lot to me to know and love someone well enough to feel as though I have found a perfect gift for them. Of course I wanted to do that for you. But it is just another fantasy I am torturing myself with. I need put this energy into my extremely difficult to buy for but very deserving parents.
I cried a lot today. I opened the wound. It is a scary feeling when it all comes hemorrhaging out again. When you wonder if you'll ever stop crying, or if you'll ever want to. I go for a walk on a nearby path to try and clear my head, get myself out of this work-from-home cocoon of sadness. It's 36 degrees out and it feels great to me. I just needed to see some trees and feel the sun on me and shit. It always helps, even if it's just the tiniest bit.
This week's therapy session was the first in 2+ months that I didn't cry at all. I felt pretty bland, because for once I felt like I was coming out of it; like something had switched. Every day wasn't seen through the lense of how much I miss you. I just kept saying "I feel okay." and felt like I was jinxing myself every time I said it. "Don't say shit like that, stupid! Contentment is always fleeting for you."
But I don't believe that. We all have our days. I feel like I'm getting somewhere. I am pulling myself out of the hole and trying to care about my life and what happens of it. Of me.
But god damn you PMDD. And god damn you social media.
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