I woke up this morning hungover.
And it wasn't the result of having too many drinks.
I woke up with the kind of hangover that only happens because of a broken heart. My head hurt, my eyes were red and puffy, and my insides felt empty.
And now it is time to sober up.
After the phone call I hadn’t been expecting last night, I managed to pull myself together in time for the wedding.
I honestly can’t tell you how I did it. Everything inside of me ached. The news that my estrogen was too low punched me in the gut so hard I didn’t think I would be able to get back up.
But I did. I put on my dress and my makeup. I did my hair and threw on some uncomfortable shoes. I slapped a smile on my face and I did my best to seem happy.
To appear put together and stable.
Because this one night wasn’t about me and my insides.
I didn’t even really let on to anyone what was going on. The only person who knew anything was the ex’s sister, who had been with me when I got the call.
As far as anyone else was concerned, it was just another night for me.
Except that I did have a glass or two of wine; reasoning that I had been abstaining because wine raises estrogen levels, and now that it appeared my estrogen levels still had me in menopause; there was no reason not to try anything I could think of to get them back up.
Even if the only thing I could think of was wine.
But, I had fun. I danced, I laughed, and I let my sense of humor shine.
I kept reminding myself that God had a plan and that His plan would be better than mine. That no matter what happened, I would be able to make it through this.
All the while clinging to the hope that the ex would somehow miraculously know how much I needed him in this moment and that he would step up to catch me before I fell.
During the ceremony as the pastor was reciting the “Love is patient, love is kind” verse, I caught the ex staring at me. We held eye contact throughout the verse, and I found myself wondering what he was thinking.
Wondering if he was finally remembering what we once had.
We had a few interactions throughout the night, but it was as the evening was winding down that I got my real answer.
It was the last slow song, and he and I were dancing. Only, it was as if there was an invisible brick between us. I kept trying to get closer; attempting to dance as we have danced in the past. He kept pulling away from me; keeping the kind of distance that was reminiscent of a junior high dance. I finally said something; questioning why he was dancing with me as though I was his 12 year old cousin. His response was that he didn’t want anyone getting the wrong impression.
And I was done.
After a weekend of getting the cold shoulder from him, I was done. I finally realized that his change of treatment towards me this weekend had everything to do with his not wanting people to think he cared about me.
And there really isn’t anything at all I can do with that.
His daughter wandered past us and I grabbed her and told her to dance with her dad. And I slipped away; gathering my things and trying not to let all the emotions hit me at once.
His sister and I hadn’t been in the car for more than 2 minutes before I started to cry; over everything. My insides hurt and my heart was breaking. I was crying over my failing body and a cycle that I wanted more than anything to go according to plan. I was crying over all the false hope I had carried for this weekend. And I was crying over a man I had promised myself I would never cry over again.
For all the times I have held out hope because he hasn’t been able to tell me he didn’t love me, I knew that none of that meant anything if he really was so afraid his family might think we were falling back together.
After all, this is a man who was introducing me to his family before we had even kissed. A man who was discussing marrying me 2 months in. A man who loved me once upon a time and who wore that adoration on his sleeve.
A man who clearly does not love me anymore.
Even if he isn’t able to tell me that.
And so I cried. Both because I was hurting over this change for the worse in my cycle, and because the man I needed to hold me and help me through wouldn’t be doing that.
I cried, because I knew that we had to be over.
I cried because I didn’t want to love someone who didn’t love me.
And I woke up with an emotional hangover.
As I opened my eyes this morning, I knew I couldn’t spend another day being treated differently by him because his family was around. I knew I couldn’t take the cold shoulder today and the friendly phone call as though nothing had changed tomorrow.
I knew I couldn’t do this anymore.
And still, this morning; I couldn’t stop crying. The tears just kept coming. Without warning or reason.
I tried to blame the hormones, because this onslaught of never ending tears is so unlike me.
But in reality, I knew that my heart was broken and that I couldn’t be around him with this open wound in my chest any longer.
There were several people I had actually been hoping to meet while in Denver (Natalie and Kat and all the big wigs at BlogFrog being at the top of my list), but I honestly didn’t think I would have time to meet anyone in the few short days I would have in town. Holly Renee and I had spoken earlier in the week though, and as I woke up I thought to call her.
And that beautiful woman came to rescue me. She took me to lunch at a delish Mexican restaurant, and we had an adult conversation that got me breathing and thinking clearly again. I can’t tell you how much I adore that chick and how truly amazing she is in person.
I am such a fan.
I didn’t say goodbye to the ex when I left this morning, reasoning that he probably wouldn’t want anyone to think he cared about me enough to bid me farewell. Let me be clear though; there was no fight or blow up. No angry words or tension.
There was just this moment in time where all I could do was acknowledge the truth.
And the truth is; we are over.
As I sat at the airport waiting for my flight to arrive, all I could think about was the fact that it was time for me to sober up.
I have been riding drunk on the hope of us for far too long; filling myself up with another shot every time I start to wander back to reality.
But it can’t happen anymore. The high isn’t worth the crash that inevitably results.
I have too much riding on this cycle right now to be crying over this man any more. As I told his sister last night, it is easier to cry over him rather than cry over the things I really am afraid of in this moment; but I still shouldn’t be doing it.
I know I can live without him.
So, starting now I am in ex rehab. I’m not sure how this is going to work, but I know we need to be done.
Completely and totally.
And I know he isn’t going to be the one to cut those ties, so I have to.
As much as it makes my heart hurt to imagine.
I can’t think about not talking to him for the next 3 months, or 6 months, or year. My chest clinches up to imagine him out of my life completely.
But I know it is what’s for the best.
So for now, I am going to take it one day at a time. One day without him in my life at a time.
Until the day comes when I realize I don’t even miss him.
And I can proudly proclaim myself clean and sober.
ADSPACE
