This is Part 3 (and the final part) of my little retrospective. Now all my unpublished posts from that time are out there, and I’m so done with it! This one is slightly more upbeat than Part 1 or Part 2.

“A hair better” was originally written on 8/27/2008, over a month after the breakup.

———————————————————————-

I got a haircut earlier this week. I think that’s a good sign. I usually go about two months between cuts, and my last one was in April! I was already long overdue when Brad moved out at the beginning of July, and things were getting out of control when he broke up with me two weeks later. Then of course I didn’t care about my hair. It was long enough to put in a ponytail by then, so that’s what I did most days. For weeks I didn’t care. I didn’t care enough to even make an appointment, I didn’t care enough to even think about making an appointment.

Recently everyone started asking me if I’m growing my hair out. That’s how long it has gotten – I officially look like I’m growing it out. So on Sunday I finally called. I finally cared enough to call. And I actually cared enough to keep the appointment. Which means I’m going to have to care enough to do something with it everyday. No more ponytails. I hope I can keep caring.

I’m not going to lie, I’m still not doing great. But I think haircut is good sign. I’m getting there.

——————————————————————–

Despite the positive attitude, I remember specifically why I didn’t post this. I wrote it on a good day , and I didn’t want to publish it and jinx myself, so I thought I’d hold on to it until a few good days in a row had passed. The next day was a very bad day, and I ended up writing this instead.

So the positive attitude didn’t last long. But I did manage to keep up with my hair. It hasn’t seen a ponytail in five months!

Yesterday I posted the first of three unpublished drafts that I wrote during my post-breakup depression. I don’t do this to keep dredging up the past, but rather as a way to celebrate how good I feel now, months later. And also because publishing these drafts is a final farewell (and fuck you!) to that awful pit of darkness I lived in for awhile.

This post, titled “My battle” was originally written on 8/18/2008, about a month after the breakup.

———————————————————————

In the last week and a half, I have realized that this is my battle and only mine. This pain is mine and only mine. I have a lot of people who know I deserve better than Brad and who want to be there for me—including my friends, my family and many of you who have left amazing comments or sent emails that have helped me figure out how to process everything—but in the end, I’m alone in this.

I went into my family trip last week expecting constant attention, love and support from everyone. I thought they would surround me and help heal me. But they all have their own lives, their own loves, their own things going on. They couldn’t really be there for me the way I thought I needed, and it was silly of me to expect that. This is my battle, not theirs.

My friends have offered their support and they are doing what they can to cheer me up, but everyone is busy and they can’t always be there when I need them and in the ways I need them. I know when some of them were going through their own bad breakups, I couldn’t be there for them the way they probably wanted me to be. Likewise, they are busy and their worlds don’t stop for me. This is my battle, not theirs.

Brad has very clearly moved on. And even though I’ve made significant progress in the last few weeks, I’m not there yet. I’m not completely past all of this like he has been the whole time we’ve been apart (even longer if we’re being honest). But again, this is my battle. Not his.

I have really good days sometimes now. Days when I know I’m better off without him, when I look forward to the prospect of meeting new people, when I believe in the possibility of finding someone better than him, when I really don’t care what he does or thinks or wants anymore. Then I have bad days when I just need to reach out to someone. And even though so many people have told me that I can call them anytime… it’s not their battle. It’s mine. And I think everyone else is just over it. I don’t blame them, I want to be over it too. So I just kind of hide the bad stuff now. Fake it till you make it – that’s what I’ve heard from a few people, so that’s what I’m trying to do.

I don’t want to sound ungrateful. To anyone who thinks I’m writing directly to them: you’ve been great. For real. Thank you. I would not have made this much progress without you. That’s what is weird about using this blog as a kind of journal. I have been writing openly and honestly about all this, but I’m still aware that people are reading. And so while my honest feelings right now are that I feel pretty alone and lonely, I still want anybody who sees this to know that it’s not your fault. You have been and continue to be incredibly generous and supportive. Yet I can’t help but feel like I really am fighting a one person battle against myself.

My partner, my teammate, the one I would normally turn to is gone. He can’t help me anymore. He has chosen to be on his own (or at least without me), and I’m fighting this battle to get better without him. It’s like I’m surrounded by people, amazing helpful people, but I’m isolated in the middle of it. Everyone is trying to reach out to me, I’m trying to reach back. Everyone is there, but I still feel like I’m alone.

Tell me that feeling goes away eventually…

——————————————————————-

I chose not to publish this post at the time because I felt like no matter what, I would sound ungrateful. Even in my sadness I could see the potential for offending those who had been so supportive and helfpul. But this is just a piece that attempts to explain the loneliness of heartbreak. No matter how many people have gone through it before and no matter how many people are surrounding you with love, it is a very lonely experience.

I think it’s safe to post this now, but I want to say again… you guys all rock my world. And thank you.

It was almost six months ago that my relationship with Brad ended. I am still amazed at how far I’ve come and how differently I feel now compared to those awful dark months. While I was living it, those six months (especially the first four) seemed dragging and endless. But now, sometimes I think “I shouldn’t be feeling this good, it’s only been six months! Surely I can’t be fully ready to move on right?” It must be the drugs. Or maybe my fierce determination to feel truly happy again. I think I’m there.

Anyway, I was looking through some drafts that I had written during those hard months but never posted. I thought I’d publish them over the next few days, sort of as a retrospective on how far I’ve come (and because you may have noticed I have very little blogging inspiration lately).

I can still remember feeling and thinking these things, but I can no longer really relate to them. They are now my past. This one titled “Control” was written on 8/4/2008, two weeks after the break up.

——————————————————————————–

Every time I see the (1) on my Gmail tab, I still hope it’s him. Saying something to me. Anything. I can’t help it, I miss him and I miss hearing from him. I know that anything he has to say right now will probably be hard to hear. Because it will certainly not be “I love you, I made a mistake, please forgive me.” But I still hold my breath while I click over to the Gmail tab, hoping that he’s decided to reach out to me somehow. To say something, anything. 

I really hate that I have so little control in this situation. I know we had problems, I know that. But I thought after more than three years, maybe I would have had a little more say in how this happened. He consulted me, he let me know he was thinking about this, he asked my opinion. But he got to make the ultimate decision. And now he’s the one in control. He’s not using that control to hurt me, he’s just being honest. But when you’re the one who isn’t hurting, you get to be in control.

I’ve been there. When I broke up with my last boyfriend, he was hurting and I wasn’t. I was hurting for him (as I’m sure Brad is doing for me right now), but he was the crushed one. And I was in control. I got to cut him off and push him away. I got to tell him that it’s for his own good if we don’t talk right away. Brad isn’t doing exactly what I did, but he is in control. All I can control is my reaction to all of this.

And as you can see from the last few weeks, I’m failing miserably at that. This is not how I want to react, this is not who I want to be. But I haven’t been able to control even that.

I feel cheated out of something. I had a life planned, and every part of it involved him. I was offering him that, offering him myself (which, excuse me, is pretty fucking awesome by the way), and he turned me down. I don’t know if he’ll ever want it. But I know he doesn’t want it right now, and when he refused it, he took something away from me. He took away a big piece of me and my life. And that’s not fair. Why does he get to take that away from me? This wasn’t my idea, this isn’t what I wanted to happen. Not like this. Not now. I feel cheated.

I know break ups aren’t supposed to be fair or make anyone feel good, but somehow I think I deserve better than the way this whole thing has played out. I don’t know exactly what I would tell Brad to do differently because I believe that he genuinely hates hurting me. But I also feel like I’m still not getting the whole story. I still don’t really understand why this happened and what he wants to accomplish from it.

It’s true that nobody can tell the future, and it is possible that we will end up together again one day. But I’m completely confused about where he stands on that idea, and therefore I’m totally confused about how I want to approach that idea. So again, he’s in control. I just wish I knew more about what happened so I could take better control about what will happen from now on.

It’s been one hell of a year. But in the end, I have to say, a really good year. One glaringly significant event stands out, but looking beyond that I have some pretty good memories from 2008. I visited Minneapolis, New York City and the Caribbean. I successfully completed three semesters of graduate school. I spent a lot of time with my family and friends, which really, that’s the biggest blessing of all. I helped elect a new president who will hopefully do a lot of good for this country. And I turned 28, an age which I believe will serve me well.

I quickly pulled together a little photo collage of the year – one photo from each month. This is just a snapshot of the many things I did and enjoyed in 2008.

It was about the middle of the year that I experienced the worst heartbreak of my life so far. When my relationship with Brad ended, I was miserable and depressed for months. I hate remembering that feeling, but I know the experience made me stronger. It has been five months now, and I can honestly say that I am happier and that I feel better than I have in a very long time. Sometimes it seems so recent that I was curled in a ball on the laundry room floor, alone, unable to control my sobbing. But five months is a long time and I’ve come a long way.

This last month has been the perfect way to end this year. I spent my birthday with a large group of friends and family; I spent the holidays surrounded by so many of the people I hold dear; I’ve been having fun with someone new; and I’m spending tonight, the last night of the year, wearing pajamas, drinking champagne and hanging out with two of my sisters.

Despite learning the hard way what heartbreak feels like, I have to say…

It’s been a damn good year!

I hope you all can say the same, and I wish everyone a wonderful new year!

Could my dating life get any more strange?

I went out with this guy (from match) for the first time last night, and one of the first things we discovered was that he grew up in the town I lived in for three years and just moved away from last year. He hasn’t lived there himself for several years, but he did go to high school there. Same high school as Brad.

So of course somehow it comes out that I have an ex-boyfriend from that town, and oh hey, maybe he (my date) knows him (Brad). I refused to tell him the name at first because how awkward right? But after a few hours of talking, I thought it would be fine to tell him Brad’s first name. That’s it. It was a pretty big school, they weren’t in the same grade – what are the chances “Brad” is going to be any kind of helpful hint at all?

As soon as I said it though, he gave me a look and asked me if Brad’s last name started with a certain letter. The exact letter that Brad’s last name starts with. Still though, there are a lot of people with that last initial, no way it’s the same guy. Oh no, it’s the same guy. MY FUCKING DATE KNOWS MY FUCKING EX-BOYFRIEND! What the hell, what are the chances of that happening? And not just knows him like saw him in the hall once or twice, they both participated in the same activity in school and so he knew him quite well. Oh and guess what. They’re friends on facebook. Like, have written on each others’ walls friends on facebook.

What do you even do with that kind of information? I mean when the topic of exes comes up it’s kind of weird anyway, but at least they’re just these abstract people in your mind. He told me a little about his last girlfriend, but I don’t know her name or what she looks like or what she acts like. Nothing. But he knows my ex’s name and face and personality.

We actually talked about it for awhile so I could process the whole idea, move on and enjoy the rest of the night. But still, it’s weird. That’s weird right?

Here’s a funny story. I signed up for Match last month, as you know, and Match has several different ways that you can find people. One of those ways is to do a straight-up search—enter your criteria (can they smoke? can they be Catholic? can they have voted for McCain? etc.) and then scroll through the returns. During my first couple days as a subscriber, I did one such search, and I was very specific, figuring I could expand later if necessary.

So I’m scrolling through my matches and there on page three, guess who I saw. Brad. Yes, ex-boyfriend Brad. Ex-boyfriend Brad who I was with for over three years but with whom, in the end, I couldn’t make a long-lasting relationship. Yeah that Brad. An yeah, it was odd.

Mostly I was bewildered. Not sad or shocked or upset. Just like “holy shit there’s Brad.” He was one face, a familiar face, in a sea of strange faces. It was… odd. Have I said that yet?

Back when we were dating, whenever an eHarmony or Match commercial came on, I’d ponder aloud, “I wonder if we’d match up on one of those.” Well, sure enough. Now we know.

I immediately emailed him and said that it’s been confirmed, we’re a 90% match. But I also quipped that we’re obviously evidence that a couple that looks good on paper doesn’t necessarily translate into a lifelong relationship. However, it did give me hope. If this website can match me up to someone with whom I had a great multi-year relationship, then surely it could find me some people to have fun with. Maybe even fall in love with?

Turns out Brad signed up a couple months ago on a whim, but hasn’t revisited the site since. He didn’t pay any of the fees and hasn’t been using it to date. Despite his inactivity, he has shown up in my daily emailed matches one or twice since I first encountered his profile. Every time it’s still very odd to his face mixed in with strangers. I don’t know anything about any of those other people. And I know just about everything about him. Odd.

It’s just so bizarre that we would be this great couple until one day we just couldn’t make it work anymore. And then we break up, and it hurts like hell. And a few months later we both get on Match to find someone new. And we find each other.

It was actually during this incident—the original one where he showed up in my search—that I knew how far I had come since the breakup. Before I knew he was not actually active on Match, I could only assume that he was dating and had been for awhile. To find that out and be okay with it… that’s a world away from where I was only a month earlier. And the fact that I could not only be okay with that, but go so far as to email him and ask if he’s had any luck yet? I mean come on, back in August I never would have believed you if you told I’d be doing that in October. I probably would have hit you.

But now I totally see that you were right. And it feels pretty fucking good.

A couple months ago I mentioned to a friend that I thought I might be ready to start dating again before the end of the year, but that I worried it would be impossible to even find good people to date. At this age, everyone is either married, seriously involved or completely undateable by my standards. She concurred and added, “When you get to be our age, you kind of just have to put it out there. Tell everyone you know that you’re interested and looking. It’s either that or online dating.”

I tried putting it out there, letting everyone know that they should inventory the single males in their lives and let me know if any might be of interest to me. Well, that was an utter failure. The most common responses were, “I honestly don’t know any single guys. They’re all married.” and “I know single guys, but nobody I’d set you up with.” I’m pretty sure that second one was a diss on the guys, not me. I hope.

One friend finally approached me and suggested a double date with her, her husband and one of their friends. I agreed. Then I heard nothing from her. I waited for about a week before saying Screw It! Finding decent single men in this town is impossible, how can I make it easier for myself? And these words rang through my head… “It’s either that or online dating.”

Online dating? Why the hell not? My goal right now is to enjoy being single, and I think a fun part of being single is dating. I’m not out to find the love of my life (though no complaints if that happens!), but I’m also not out to find another long-term relationship that dissolves into nothing. I either want to fall in love or I want to date around and enjoy myself. I’ve never really done the dating thing before. In high school I just had boyfriends, no dates. Through most of college, it was all just hanging out. I went on one date with Brian before it turned into a relationship, and I hung out with Brad “as friends” before that turned into a relationship. I’ve never done the “let’s meet for drinks and see how it goes” thing. And now is the time, now I really want to.

So I signed up on match a couple weeks ago. I don’t think I’ll be discussing my dating life on this site very much, unless something gets serious. Or if I have a horror story I can’t not share with you. I know some people write about their dating lives online, and I love reading about them, but at the moment it doesn’t feel like something I want to write too much about.

But for now let me just say this: I am having so much fun.

I hope it continues.

I spent a lot of time with my sisters this weekend. I can’t say it enough, I love having sisters and I love living so close to them all. Friday night I went to Andrea’s for dinner. We played MarioKart, did homework and hung out with the dogs.

Saturday Kelli and I drove up to see Emily. Em made us dinner and we all watched Sex and the City while I worked on some homework. We spent the night and hung out for awhile Sunday before leaving.

One bad thing about this weekend: I slept on Em’s couch and effed up my back. I can barely move. Everytime I tried to roll over last night I whimpered in pain. It better fix itself soon because I have crap going on this week.

One good thing about this weekend (among many): I laughed a lot. I laugh more with my sisters than with anyone else. Brad used to be tied in this category, and I really hope I find someone else someday who will make me laugh that much. It’s something I consider essential. Anyway, my sisters and I share the same sense of humor so we spend a lot of time cracking each other up. For instance, on the drive home I said something quite on accident (it won’t be funny in the retelling so I’ll skip that detail) that had Kelli and I in tears. Most people probably wouldn’t have laughed; a few might have chuckled and moved on. But Kelli and I were laughing so hard it was silent. You know that silent laughter? It’s a really good feeling to laugh that hard over something so silly. And to have someone to do it with.

I went to my last counseling appointment yesterday evening. I was last there only a few weeks ago, and even then I was still wondering how I was going to get out of the mire. I felt better for sure, but I also felt like I had to work really hard at it. I worked every day to feel good, but I could remember a time when I was just happy without all the effort. I felt good without thinking about it and trying at it all the time. A few weeks ago I wondered if I would ever feel that way again.

Something happened since then. Maybe the Celexa took full effect, maybe the counseling helped, maybe enough time has passed, maybe all my “trying at it” paid off, or maybe it’s a combination of all those things. But I actually feel good. Happy even.

I’m in a good place with Brad too. We have emailed a few times and I think one day we might even be able to form some sort of friendship. I think we both feel good finally, and hopefully with enough time we’ll be able to figure out what it means to be friends after a break up. I still stand by my statement that Brad is too good a guy to not have in my life at all. Eventually I think we can figure it out.

After my appointment last night, I still had one more free session available to me. The counselor asked if I would like to schedule something and amazingly I said, “No I actually think I’m doing pretty well now.” Long-term counseling would definitely not hurt, but since that’s not an option right now, I didn’t feel like the last session was necessary. I think I can do this on my own now.

(Except not really on my own. I still need the support of all of you – friends, family, readers – so don’t abandon me okay? You guys got me this far, for which I’m incredibly grateful, and I’m not done with you yet.)

Here’s one thing I miss about having a boyfriend: having a bug-killer around. I’ve been fine with taking over most of the things Brad used to do. Like getting my oil changed, taking the trash out, cleaning the toilet. But I miss having someone to rescue me from the bugs. I do not do well with insects and spiders. In fact, I’m a downright crybaby when it comes to the creepy crawlies.

My biggest bug battle right now is the spider who has taken up residence outside my garage door. One day I noticed a small web gracing one corner of the door frame. I didn’t pay it much attention until later when I noticed it had grown and now held a smattering of insect carcasses – a spider’s dinner. When my sister Emily was down visiting last month, she bravely (well not bravely really since she’s not a wimp like me and isn’t bothered much by this stuff) pulled the web down with her bare hands.

Well, by the next morning the resilient spider had not only rebuilt its web, but it built ANOTHER web too just to piss me off. So for the last few weeks I have had to walk beneath two giant spider webs every day to get to and from my car. One morning the damn spider was dangling, yes dangling!, from the web right where I needed to walk. I ducked, squealed and ran beneath it as fast as I could.

All I really want is for someone to kill the spider (or transport it if they’re the humane type) and remove the webs. But Robin’s just as frightened as me, Emily lives two hours away, my other sisters are no fans of spiders either, and my dad and brother both live too far to make a trip just to save me from a little (HUGE!) spider. I asked Robin’s boyfriend to help me out, but he lives out of town and is only here a couple times a month. Last time he left before we got around to Project: Spider Removal, so the the nasty bastard remains outside my garage.

This is when I really miss having a boyfriend. I know not all boys are fearless spider-killers, but most of them would be willing to help me out if I explained how not cool I am with the whole spider thing. I know Brad, at least, would have been out there long ago taking care of this matter for me. I should probably just buck up, grab some bug spray and a broom and get rid of this problem myself, but it’s one thing I haven’t been able to bring myself to do. Getting my own oil changed? Fine. Wrangling scary spiders? Just can’t do it.

Robin suggested I start dating and hook a guy at least long enough to come over and kill Mr. Spider. I’m thinking it’s not a bad idea. Do spiders die in the winter though? Maybe I can survive until the weather does the deed for me.

Okay no fucking joke you guys. As I’m writing this, a little spider just crawled down the windowsill near my desk. I’m not really sure what to do, so I’m going to stop writing and run away.

When I moved back to GR last year, for some reason I put on weight. About twenty pounds of weight actually. One day this past spring I was shopping some serious discounts and found four pairs of dress pants for four bucks each. But I had to buy them all in a size larger than I had worn since the infamous freshman fifteen. I was actually okay with that, I don’t have serious body issues. But I did try a few times to eat better or exercise more, hoping to eventually get back down to a weight I was more comfortable with. All attempts failed.

Enter the heartbreaking end to a three and a half year relationship in July. Turns out depression is the key to weight loss. For about a month I ate little more than frozen blueberries and hot tea. For a month after that I could still only eat about a third of what I had eaten daily before the breakup. In two months I lost twenty pounds. I was back down to what I weighed before moving back here.

I thought my September cruise would be the end of it. I ate a lot that week and assumed my stomach would stretch back out and I’d get my appetite back, along with a few pounds. But it’s now nearing the end of October and I haven’t gained any of it back. My appetite has returned, though I’ve noticed that I still eat less than I did before.

Lest you think I am at all advocating for this kind of weight loss plan, believe me, I am not. Though I will probably make an effort from now on to eat less and better than I did previously, I know that my dramatic drop in pounds was not healthy. And most likely I will start to gain some of it back unless I make a serious attempt to keep it off. With winter coming, I don’t see that happening.

It’s kind of humorous though. The other day I put on a pair of dress pants that I used to wear all the time. I buttoned and zipped them up, and then just laughed. They were huge! I could literally pull them off, fully fastened, over my hips. And I’ve got some hefty hips even when I do lose weight. So now, because I refuse to go shopping, I have to wear everything with belts. I look sort of ridiculous because the pants are cinched around the waist but clearly too big in the thighs and booty. I’m a fashion disaster right now. Oh and those “size big” clearance pants I bought last spring? I hadn’t worn them yet because they are kind of thick and more of a wintery material, and now I can’t even make use of them

The other thing that amuses me is that I don’t think you can even really tell (other than the baggy clothes). When I wear clothes that fit (like jeans I haven’t been able to wear in over a year!), nobody says, Dang girl! You lost weight! If you’ve been reading for awhile, you’ll recall that I kind of hate when people comment on my weight, so I don’t mind the lack of attention. But in the past, when I would lose even five pounds (to be quickly gained back later that week), people would notice and comment. Now I’ve lost twenty and probably only four people have said anything. This could be because they know I dislike the comments, but my theory is that you just can’t tell. I’ve looked at pictures of me from earlier this year, at the height of my weight gain, and I really don’t see a drastic difference. A difference yes, but I always see those ads for diet supplements and they’re all “LOST 22 POUNDS!” and the before picture shows a rather rotund woman, while the after picture shows her, now seriously skinny, wearing her old pants and holding the waistline out about twelve inches. With me it’s more like, yeah I guess her gut isn’t sticking out quite as much. And maybe her thighs aren’t quite as chunky. If it weren’t for my bathroom scale and my baggy clothes, I’m not sure I’d even know I was lighter than three months ago.

Okay. In looking for pictures to use for demonstration, I found very few full-body shots of me. I had to go back to April to find a comparison photo. The most recent full-body shot I have is from September. April is on the left, September on the right:

I think side by side like this, it’s noticeable. But when I gained the weight, I didn’t really feel that much bigger. And now that it’s gone, I don’t feel much smaller. Regardless, the point is that it took two and a half months of depression and anxiety to drop my excess poundage. I think it will take little more than a few unnecessary bowls of ice cream to gain it back. Both sides of that coin seem so unfair.

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.