I don't believe that I suffer in this groundless way any more than the next person. It's not an exclusive club. It's more of an awareness that one cannot count on things like one may have suspected one could count on when one was young. Hum, maybe that's called growing up!? I wonder?
Another huge life lesson -- the only thing certain is uncertainty.
I have worked to move away from fear, the despair and sadness I felt. Yesterday I decided to think of Chris as dead, more out of self-preservation than reality. I mean, a dead person, well, you can't (really) contact them unless you believe in that stuff. And I don't believe in it though after my dad died years (and years) ago, I used to walk in the park and talk to him though I knew in reality that I was talking to the air. Under normal circumstances with a dead person, there's no contact, no reality of the physical form. I nearly had an anxiety attack late last week which was so similar to one I had after my husband died. I would wake from a dead (pun!) sleep, feeling this anxiety creep from my toes to my head, as if my body were changing color with the creeping. This attack came on because I realized I'd never see Greg again. It's like you know this person one minute and the next, they're gone. Dead. It definitely takes some getting used to, not something that happens overnight.
I spent a brief moment considering the risk and courage it must have taken to leave the relationship, how courageous I perceived that risk. Definitely not a decision to take lightly! Yet still a very daring decision in midlife. I admire risk-taking. And then I considered how much more courage it would have taken to stay, to work things out (things of which I am still so uncertain).
In my story, I am my own hero. I choose to take care of myself. I am the risk-taker, the courageous one. I didn't choose to take a journey outside of myself to search for happiness and excitement -- knowing full well that happiness cannot be found outside of me anymore than excitement can be found in a bottle of booze or a bowl of ice cream. Excitement and happiness are elusive. I know wherein true happiness lies and it's never out there. Ever.
Friday night was fun -- out of the ordinary. It was a date with an old friend. I don't mean OLD because he is several years younger than I. He brought me flowers, bright yellow chrysanthemums, Queen Anne's lace and white gerbera daisies. He also brought along all the makings for mojitos, rum, fresh limes and mint. I had a drink and I did not get angry or drunk. Drink #2 tasted kind of gross. We didn't have a muddler so we used spoons to muddle the mint. I made a spicy tortilla dish though the food was secondary to our conversation as always. We enjoy each other's company and have for years. He told me I was "an extremely desirable woman." He believes I am, as he says, "extremely bright." His words like salve to my open wounds. The next morning he phoned to say what a great time he'd had. We only spoke for a few minutes because I was out the door.
I spent most of Saturday with good friends. Saturday night, went out for drinks with a friend. I was designated driver. We had some good food, good conversation and I drove her home, late for me. (after 11 pm). She was almost slurring her words. We got emotional at times, a bit teary-eyed, had a lot of laughs. Then back home.
Sunday I went to church, aka Weight Watchers, where I'd gained two pounds from hanging out with boozers all weekend. (That's going to stop!) Sunday afternoon, another old (and I do mean OLD) friend came by. His illness radar was bleeping and blipping all over the place. (I could hardly hear myself think.) He had given up drinking due to a diagnosis of fatty liver but had gained 30 pounds, diagnosed pre-diabetic with high blood pressure. I asked him "What's your blood pressure?" He said, "I don't know. 180 over 100." I said, "Well, you gotta die from something!" (to quote my psychiatrist). I don't understand receiving the "you gotta quit drinking" message, ceasing the booze, and then eating your way into oblivion, walking around with an enlarged heart.
Then Sunday night I was off to a class from on Non Violent Communication. I loved it. I want to be nonviolent. We had to say in a very brief intro why we had come to the class. I said
(now that I had been dumped/duped) I want to better understand how to take care of myself, and *when* I see Chris again, I want to be kind to him. The class was the perfect ending to a beautiful weekend of refreshing new ways to view what remains of my life -- through the eyes of uncertainty -- though at least I finally realize that now.