We would have been dating for two years on March 14th. He relocated to Michigan, then California for me. When we moved into this apartment we had so much hope for ourselves. People told us it was too soon, but we didn’t listen. We were fools in love. Know it alls. Uniques.
And now here I sit, my seltzer one hand, typing with the other. Our dog, really my dog, running circles around my legs. ExBoy came today and picked up the rest of his “stuff” – most of which I bought him. The fancy bike I got him for his birthday, the scenester sweater I came home with “just because” – I think he even took the salt shaker I swiped from a table in Costa Rica. But he did leave my keys! And no note. Oh, and no sneakers.
This apartment is like a memory minefield – yesterday I opened a rarely used kitchen cabinet to find a miniature “love” card I left him – I hid ten or so around the house, and this one said – Knock Knock, I love you!.
Little reminders of how hard I tried, how deeply I loved him, and how willing I was to make it work. Little reminders of how I failed, how my efforts were in vain, and how I couldn't control the end result.
Too depressing a post? I apologize if it’s heavy, but my heart has been a little heavy today, and I needed to lighten the load. Talking about it and knowing I did the right thing by ending it helps me. Looking back, I realize that I had reached my limit, that limit we all know in our gut. Enough was enough.
On a more positive note! For my good deed today, I went down a meeting phone list/ email list (about 25 or so names) and gave each one a positive message from my morning meditation book. I got two "you kept me sober today"s and one "um, I'm not an alcoholic".
Maybe I can’t be happy every day, but I can try to make someone else happy every day!
Have a good night, everyone. And please, if you have any advice on the aforementioned topic, I could really use some different perspectives!
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