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18 December 2010

the golden commandment

Therapy. I thought I needed therapy, or counseling, or whatever nice word they have for it these days, after what I've been through this past semester and year. Too much cancer and one big break up, plus realizing that life after undergrad is very real and very scary - it just made for a really tumultuous time.

But forget formal therapy. I've forgotten the very basic therapy that I used to give myself before I had someone there with me practically every minute of my life - writing. So here I am, back to where I was in the beginning, perhaps none the wiser or perhaps for the better.

Here I go.

I don't really feel anything during the day, especially during conversations about him. People will ask me how I'm doing now that it's over - hell, my mom even told me 'do not despair!' - and I feel like they live in another world where the breakup really, really hurts. I kinda shrug everything off and laugh about the awkwardness of it all or make a joke about how big my apartment is without him. But the truth is that my apartment is really, really big without him and really, really empty.

It hits me at night, right when I decide that it's time to finally get some sleep. I close my laptop, or turn the TV off, and turn off the lights. Lay down. Close my eyes. And bam! Suddenly I realize that there is no one beside me and my apartment is so very quiet. There is only the sound of my breathing.

Then I do what I call the 'Memento' move. In the movie, he's all sad about his dead (?) wife - it's been a long time since I've seen it - and there's this very touching memory of his where he stretches his arm across the bed feeling for her warmth, which of course isn't there. So I reach across the bed - as I still sleep on only my side out of habit - and there is nothing but blanket and pillow. Cold blanket and pillow. And I can't help myself and immediately tear up.

There is nothing really to do except wait for the feeling to pass. They say that you need at least half the time of the relationship to get over it, so I've got a little over half a year to recover. Even that isn't comforting, though.

We had both started to give up toward the end. I don't know if he did, but I began to hold onto things that I knew would remind me of him after it was over. I joked about his pants with the gap in the ass, trying to remember how awful they looked because I knew I wouldn't see them again afterward. I looked through old pictures to see how his hair looked before and after we shaved it, realizing how much it had grown since August and how long it had to go before it was the length of when we were in love. Maybe that will be in six months' time. But I guess I may never know.

I don't know anything anymore. Just that when we both sat down and said it should be done, all I could think was, "We were really good together, weren't we?" And yes, we were. We were amazing. He was my best friend. You just never stop loving your best friend.

I'm so scared of life now. Before, even though I knew that we were going to have to separate after college, I felt like he would always be there somehow - in grad school, in the Peace Corps, wherever. But now the painful reality has hit. He won't be there. No one will be there. Not even my friends will follow me to wherever I end up, and even though yes, I will make new ones, letting go of those you love - those you wish you could forever cling to - cuts so deeply.

I shouldn't mourn the things I haven't lost yet. I know.

I know what I have to do - think about this as a fresh start. My life is stretched far before me. I have health, financial support, friends, family. Even a cat (I had to mention her - I think I woke her up with my typing and she's probably not terribly happy). And I have amazing goals of traveling the world, making it better, living free. Even though these next few months are going to be very difficult - especially in my one-bedroom - they'll just be fleeting memories in the years to come.

Hey, remember those six months that I lived with my cat, took classes, and twiddled my thumbs waiting for grad decisions?

-Yeah, I don't remember those too well anymore.

I just really have to make sure that I don't slip into something destructive to ease my boredom and anxiety - drinking, perhaps, or smoking anything, blablabla. There are really two ways I can take this, and I have to choose the constructive one. I'll work out more, or decide to cook myself an awesome dinner each week, or write more on here, or start volunteering somewhere worthwhile. Maybe listen to music like I used to or jump back into watching good cinema. Start meditating and do yoga again. Overall: treat myself like I should be treated.

Hey, I really like that motto. New years resolution? Treat thyself like thou ought to be treated.

Life really is beautiful, and even though I might have to work a little harder in the coming months to see that, I'll enjoy it nonetheless.

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