I’ve coasted through the stages of grief.
Well the first one anyways.
Denial and Isolation.
I was in denial about the fact that it’s actually over. I can’t hold on to the hope of fixing my relationship if the relationship does not exist. I spent days in my apartment with my new boyfriends, Ben and Jerry (Which is hysterical seeing as one of those names is the name of my former boyfriend). I’ve watched shitty love movies, and sobbed on the phone to my best friend across the country.
I’ve come to realize that this is NOT the easiest way to live.
Which brings me to my favorite stage in the grief cycle: Anger.
Oh how I love anger. Nothing makes it easier to be the best version of yourself when your intentions come from a place of spitefulness and resentment. It took me a week, but fuck it, I’m angry.
I came to this conclusion after a weekend in Manhattan with my mother. We drank French wine, saw plays, shopped, went to museums, pampered ourselves at the spa, and most importantly, analyzed every detail of that fatal conversation on Thursday. Yes, he made some logical points. Yes, we’re broken. Yes, we should not be together. HOWEVER, the part that is illogical, is the idea that the best thing for our relationship is for him to be with other people, and EVEN MORE illogical, that he is doing this “for us”. Maybe, just maybe, he believes that. Yet, I realize that even if his intentions are for us, his actions are not. I MUST be angry at the idea that someone can profess their love for me and then seek permission to “love” on other people. He might love me, but those certainly aren’t the actions of someone in love with me. OUCH REJECTION.
That makes me angry. How can someone reject me? I’m intelligent. I have all my teeth. I’m usually pretty witty. And when I’m not an emotional basket case, people usually don’t mind being around me. This is me pumping up my ego after such a devastating loss. Almost pathetic, but we’ll call it self esteem building.
I’m angry that he has the ability to turn off his emotions. Why can’t girls do that? I yearn for the ability to emotionally detach myself in the way that the males of our society do. I’ve deleted his number, disposed of his pictures, hidden his clothes, and tucked his love notes into a trunk in my room. Perhaps I need to dispose of it all. I just don’t get it! If I asked one of his friends how he was doing, I am certain that they would tell me that he seems great and that he’s taking it really well. If someone did the same with one of my friends, they’d tell them that I was doing okay, hanging in there. You can be certain that a response like that would only be given out of loyalty to me, rather than an accurate description of the current situation. What his friends would tell me would most definitely be the truth. I guess I’m just sitting here wondering if he hurts like I hurt. If this is as much a loss for him as it is for me. It makes me hate him knowing that I, by my own fault, am being portrayed as the desperate clinger-on-er, when I know that no third party could understand the depth of what we shared.
I’m angry because it feels like he’s throwing it away.
I can’t be angry about that though. Not now anyways.
Instead I am focusing on every bad time in our relationship. Every time I felt inferior, neglected, nagged, embarrassed hurt, or angry with him. Let me tell you, tis far easier than reminiscing of Sunday mornings in bed together.
I guess I’m not as angry as I need to be. But is ‘hurt’ a part of the grieving process? Because I’m pretty sure that’s all I’m feeling.
And bla bla bla. Sad weepy single girl strikes again.
Single girl. Weird.