The last few days have been confusing. My breakup started in the beginning of my work week. I had work to consume my time and thoughts. Today is the last day of my days off as I start my new work week tonight. I'm now an overnight delivery Dispatcher. It's the first job I've had in years where I feel little stress and like a happy minion. No responsibility. No hard decisions. Just be-boop. The pay could be better but then again, the work is pretty straight forward. And the people are nice to one another. This is probably the perfect place for my healing. I'm almost at 3 months here and sometimes it scares me how safe I feel. I don't worry about losing my job because me doing the work is enough. No expectations other than don't fuck it up. Yes. I can do that. I feel like I'm reverse venting right now. Like, no, I don't hate my job. I really like my boss. And my coworkers care about doing a good job. It's so weird after everything I've been through.
Insert my recent break up.
I thought I was handling everything like a pro. The crying stopped. I felt annoyance but who knows if that's just Jen or if I'm still traversing the stages. I finally went through the trash bags of stuff he bagged up for me. I guess I kept taking stuff over there. I didn't want to move into a one bedroom apartment on the 3rd floor. I just wanted it to feel more like home when I would spend 2-3 days in a row there. Now it feels like I over stepped. With my candles, incense and healing crystals. The bedding and squishfellows. That's what he called them. I think I was OK going through the bags until I got to the art stuff. He introduced me to painting. I fell so in love with it. But for me, it became this hobby that seemed harder when we weren't doing it together. Then, I noticed that we just stopped. And inside these bags was everything. All of his work, his brushes, his paints. It's like he was telling me that I ruined his hobby. I had a break down as I found a new spot in my room for everything. I stare at the organized pile from my bed bawling because will I ever paint again? Will he? I wasn't very good but I loved his work. His little fluffy clouds on his Bob Ross landscape attempts. Happy little trees. Did I ruin that for him? I feel like a bad person.
I'm going through more of the trash bags and I find gifts. Things he gave me. Things I gave him. I get the pleasure of deciding whether or not I can look at my pink drop bear that he got me for valentines. Or the picture frame with us in it. Or my favorite, the pop up photo card I made him. It's like we never mattered. Why don't we matter anymore. I'm trying to pull myself together. Why am I going through this stupid stuff. I already took down the photos of us. I've never done that before. Put up photos of someone I love. He was a lot of firsts for me. Maybe that's why everything hurts so much. I come across a crocheted necklace he let me borrow. I remember him telling me that his best friend and exgirlfriend, whom he still sees, made it for him. I know it's special and I have to take it back to him because I'm not a monster. But the thought of going over there cripples me into a ball of just inconsolable sobbing. I can't see him. What if there's a girl at his apartment, sitting where I used to sit. I think that would have me just walk off that top step of his 3 flights of stairs. Why does that bug me so much? He didn't want me. He rejected me. Because love wasn't enough.
My room is so clean. Something I've never cared about before. I even swept and mopped the floors you can see now. I stopped leaving dishes in my room (for longer than a day - baby steps) and started hanging up and folding my clothes. I was getting ready to start a life with someone because in order to have a good relationship, you have to be good partner. Playing house starts now. Where ever you are, just pretend someone else has to be in your area and think, what don't they want to see or be around. He really did change my life for the better. His guidance still rings inside my head everytime I think I'm going to just game all day. I think about responsibilities I could be taking care of instead. I live with my mom. It's not what you think but go ahead with your preconceived notions of who I am. I've been helping out more than ever because something clicked in me that I don't want to be a slob. That takes dedication. So, now I vacuum and do dishes and fold laundry. I'm finally domesticated. I just keep telling myself that if I'm a proper woman who cooks and cleans, maybe the next man will tolerate my personality more. I just need to be attractive, whatever that means.
Something is clear though, that whatever I do next, I need to do it alone. These emotions keep coming up out of nowhere. That doesn't seem fair to the next guy. What if I miss out on love because I'm too busy missing someone who left me. Someone who bagged up our life into trash bags and did just that, took out the trash. I'm the trash in this story. It's hard to move on because I still feel like we had something. I know it's not the loneliness. I think I'm scared that I won't laugh again. Or have intelligent conversations. He's so smart, and wity. He even got me a little more interested in politics again. Something I decided was dead to me when Trump took office. He awakened things in me that I thought had died. Will they die all over again because all my new guy options want to talk about camping with their dogs or watching the game. Did I ruin my only chance at happiness?
Obviously, I'm going through some form of woman hysteria. I needed to clean up those trash bags but all they did was trigger me. It's over Jennifer. He doesn't love you and you need to move on with your life. I'm a grown woman and I have responsibilities. Just box the pain away and deal with it on the other side of your work week. Your coworkers and boss deserve the professional, clear headed version of you right now. Just do it. Do it. Do eeeeeeet. You got this.
Do self affirmations ever work?
-Jen
