I am so glad I decided to go on that cruise. For awhile I questioned if it was such a great idea - the money, the timing - but it was fun and relaxing and just what I needed. It’s hard to be back because I’m still facing everything I left here. On the cruise I could sort of ignore everything, but back here it’s all still very real. However, I’m trying not to focus on the bad stuff.

I’ve only managed to upload a small percentage of the photos I took last week, but I’ll get the rest up soon. And I’ll tell you little about what a great few days it was too. Picture this: me in a private cabana by the ocean with a good book and a free strawberry daquiri. For hours. What could be lovelier?

More to come, but for now I’ll leave you with this photo of me in a porthole. Because when you’re on a cruise ship you kind of have to take a shot like this right?

Yesterday was two months. I’ve been single for two months. Feels like ten months and feels like ten minutes at the same time. Many of you have been really awesome about keeping in touch with me even when I don’t know what to write here anymore. So let’s start with that. Thank you. You guys seriously rock.

As far as everything else… well, it’s getting better. I’ve been on Celexa for a week, but I’m not sure how to know if it’s working. My aunt - a pharmacist - says even though full effects won’t happen for awhile, I should be able to tell if it’s going to work within a week. So I’m not really sure what to think because I feel about the same as I did a week ago. Not great, but tolerable.

It’s still a day-by-day thing. I woke up yesterday and for no reason felt great. I woke up today, after finally sleeping more than five hours, and felt crappy. Who knows, I don’t get it.

I’ve talked to Brad a little bit recently, and in some ways that’s really been helpful, and in other ways it makes it worse. I’m just kind of all over the place right now. I have no idea what I want, no idea what I’m doing, no idea what makes me feel good and what makes me feel bad, no idea what to think about anything. I’m confident this will pass, that eventually I’ll be a little more clear-headed. I just don’t know how long that will take. Anyone have a good guess? Please? Anyone?

In the meantime, here is my temporary fix to the extremely shitty past two months: I’m going on a cruise. This week. I leave Tuesday.

Yeah.

My friend Erica is a travel agent, and she called me a couple weeks ago to say that she had a great deal on a three-night cruise, she already reserved her spot, did I want to go with her. You should know that I have always wanted to go on a cruise. And you should also know that I didn’t have any money left in the travel budget this year. But it was such a good deal, and I need to get the hell out of here, and like Erica said to finally convince me… I deserve it. So I said yes.

I’m using vacation days that I wanted to save, and I’m putting the whole thing on my credit card that I otherwise never use, and I’m missing a week of classes so I’ve been killing myself the last two weeks trying to work ahead. But I’m recovering from a broken heart and a broken relationship, and I’m going to the Bahamas with a good friend, so screw everything else right? Right.

I’m actually really excited. So any tips from those of you who have cruised before on how to get the most out of my time?

Making dinner tonight, I cut my finger, and it reminded me of Mrs. Twink’s recent gash-while-cooking story. In hers, she called to her husband who helped her get band-aids, clean and inspect the injury, and bandage it up. I’m home alone tonight, so when I cut myself, I bled all over my fingers while I fumbled to rinse the cut, grab a band-aid and put it on. I’m sure her injury was much worse than mine, and it really wasn’t a big deal to tend to my own wound, but it reminded me of yet another thing I’m missing. I’m a big girl and can deal with my self-inflicted cuts, but mostly I just wanted someone there to hear me scream, then laugh with me at my stupidity. I miss that.

I had my appointment with the young hot male doctor today, and it was a good day to have it. Today has been kind of a hard day. I haven’t figured out what causes a good day and what causes a bad day, but today I was really sad and I felt the pressure on my chest again. Based on everything I told him, the doctor called in a prescription for Lexapro. After a really down day, I felt good about starting the meds, but when I drove to the pharmacy - no prescription. I guess they need prior authorization from the insurance company or something, but it was just not the blow I needed. Not because I thought I’d feel better as soon as I started them, but because now I have to wait, figure out when the prescription will be available, and make another trip to the pharmacy. And I think the fact that something as minor as that made my day and my week and my life feel so impossible is a good indication that there’s something going on here.

Also, disappointingly, I forgot to ask for a referral to a therapist. Last night I even made a list of everything I wanted to ask or discuss and put it in my purse. But then I sat on the exam table for 45 minutes and not only did I never think to ask about the referral, but I completely forgot about the damn list! So I’m still not sure what I’m doing about that situation. Honestly, I don’t feel like dealing with it. I want someone to deal with it for me. Which reminds me of something I realized recently:

Right now, when I’m hurting so much, is when I need a boyfriend the most - a confidant, a comfort, a partner. And the reason I need all that is because I no longer have it. I need a boyfriend because I’m hurting so much, and I’m hurting so much because my boyfriend left me. I need someone to help take care of life right now, but the reason I feel so helpless is because I’m sad, and the reason I’m sad is because the person who used to help me take care of life is gone. I need someone to love me because I’m lonely, but the reason I’m lonely is because the person who loved me is gone. I need someone to hold me while I cry, but the reason I’m crying is because my holder is gone.

Have I mentioned lately that you guys are awesome? I keep falling down, and you guys just keep lifting me up. You had so much good advice yesterday that I was inspired to do something about my predicament. I called my doctor’s office and said I needed to get in this week, I didn’t care who I saw. Originally I was going to see the same PA who saw me about anxiety awhile ago, but I figured I’d meet with anyone if only it was sooner. So I have an appointment this week with a doctor I have never met. I called my mom, who goes to the same office, to ask her opinion and she says, “Oh yeah, he’s young. And hot!” So great. He’s a he. He’s young. He’s hot. And I get to tell him that I’m considering anti-depressants to deal with the anxiety and depression caused by my boyfriend breaking up with me. I’m sure that will only be a little bit uncomfortable seeing as he’s a male (in my adult life I’ve intentionally only ever seen women doctors), he’s young, and he’s hot. I know I should just think of him as a doctor, not a young hot guy. But in any other circumstance, I might be interested in a young hot male doctor, so how come I only get to meet one when I need to talk about depression and anxiety brought on by heartbreak?

Anyway, someone suggested I could ask my doctor for a referral to a therapist, therefore bypassing the whole employee assistance program (which a lot of you suggested). So I think I’ll ask the young hot male doctor about that as well, and maybe that will get me on the road to really coping with this major change in my life, with or without the meds (depending on what I decide to do). The counselor I saw last week told me that on average, people can only stay in crisis mode for about six weeks, then you can actually start to figure out how to cope. If I count from when I first hit rock bottom – about a week after the break up, when Brad sent that painfully honest email – it’s been just over six weeks. And I can tell. I can tell that I’m out of crisis mode and moving into healing mode.

I still cry. I still feel sad. I still have no idea what the hell happened or why. I still have a million questions. I still get hit with attacks of anxiety. And I still feel an incredible loneliness and emptiness that not even the best of friends and family, the sweetest blog readers, and countless keep-busy activities can fill. But I’m trying to figure out how to get better and move on, and I think that’s a good step.

I took your advice, I started counseling. Sort of. My employer offers an employee assistance program so I could get a few sessions free, then be referred if necessary. Since I didn’t know where else to go, I tried that. So far the whole thing has been more stressful and frustrating than helpful.

As expected, the whole first session was intake stuff, and all that really came out of it was that I tested at moderate depression and extreme anxiety. And I need to get on anti-depressants. And I need to read this one book she suggested. We didn’t get to talk about anything regarding what is causing all this, and we definitely didn’t start working through how to get better. Except to get medicated.

I’m fine with the anti-depressants, but I also want to talk through all this and figure out how to make myself better. Except, I couldn’t even get another appointment until the end of the month. So now I have to wait over three weeks before I can even meet with her again. Not to mention the fact that she’s not even really my counselor. She’s an MSW, which is fine, but her role is basically to figure out what the issue is and determine the next steps. As in, does she need medication, does she need further counseling, does she need to be checked into a hospital, etc. So in three weeks when I meet with her again, I still don’t really get to start working on this stuff. At best I can find out if I’ll be referred to another counselor. And then of course wait until I can get in with that person.

Also, another draw back to the MSW thing is that she can’t prescribe anything for me, which means I had to call my doctor and make an appointment to talk about medication. Not surprisingly, I can’t get in there for two weeks. So not only do I have to wait a month for my next counseling appointment, but I have to wait two weeks to even get started on any medication. Which, by the way, takes awhile to start working. So here’s my time line:

In two weeks: start anti-depressants
Week and a half later: meet with (not) my (real) counselor again
Couple weeks later: hopefully be able to get in with another counselor
Couple weeks later: maybe start noticing affects of anti-depressant

So what, that puts me at about November? That’s over three months after the break up. According to some theories I would be fine then anyway. Is it even worth it? Should I just call the whole thing off?

See, this is supposed to be making me feel better, and all I feel is stressed and frustrated (and kind of hopeless) when I think about it. Am I doing something wrong or is this just how it goes?

It was four years ago today when I met Brad. It was at 3:00pm. We used to remember the circumstances together sometimes, going over what the other was thinking the very first time we spoke. We also used to say that we should get married on September 1 at 3:00 so we’d be getting married the exact same day and time we met, only years later.

It feels weird to think back to that meeting. Neither of us had any idea what it would lead to. We had no idea that we would end up spending over three years being the most important person in each others’ lives. We had no idea that we would eventually live together or that we would plan to get married or that we would eventually break up. He had no idea that someday he would break my heart.

I wonder now if, knowing how much he was capable of hurting me, he would still come up and say hi on that day. If he could have flashed forward four years and seen how much I would be hurting because of him, would he have spared me that? Would he have sacrificed all the good times we had, all the love we shared, to prevent this from happening?

And I wonder what I would have done. Is all this hurt, even six weeks later, worth it? Would I have ignored him that day? Dismissed him? Would I have given up the last few years to be spared what I’m feeling right now?

Maybe someday I will look back and know it was worth it. But today I’m just not sure.