Progress… or realistically, a lack of it

For the past several months, I’ve forced myself to be distant from the person that I am still in love with, believing that it would be for the best until I was secure in my ability to not only live my life without her, but thrive.  I cannot, will not, let codependency define who I am.  I started taking the steps necessary to achieve that goal – I quit my job, where I was terribly unhappy.  I’ve begun to go back to school.  I’m working out at least 2-3 times a week to lose the weight that I’ve put on.  All of these are steps in the right direction… but it hasn’t been enough.

When scrolling through my news feed on Facebook, the mere sight of her name would always send a wrench through my gut.  I’d feel such an intense sense of loss, of longing, of desire, that it would twist my insides into knots.  Every single time.  This, I knew wasn’t “normal”, or healthy.  It represented, to me, an attachment that was still much too strong.  Of course I know that I want to be with her.  I’ve known that for years.  But being with her at the expense of myself isn’t something that I can realistically do, or ask her to endure.

But then, tonight.  I got home from a long day at Anvil.  I’m exhausted, both from running the tournament (which I shouldn’t have needed to do) and from the drive.  I’m scrolling through Facebook, idly seeing things… and then it hits me in the face.  Sonya is in a relationship.  My insides twisted again, but this time it didn’t feel like a knot – no, it felt like someone had stabbed me with a knife.  I struggled to maintain a steady breathing pattern but I felt the unmistakable beginnings of an anxiety attack stir to life inside of me.  The woman that I love is, once again, in a relationship with someone else.

This is the third person since we last broke up.  I thought that we might have had the rekindlings of something, especially when she came over to play cards one night.  But I suppose not.  True, we went two and a half months without talking – but that was as much on her as it was on me.  She never reached out to say hi, or anything of the sort.  I can’t be the one solely responsible for initiating conversation.

… So, by that token, if she’d wanted to talk to me, she would have.

So she doesn’t really want anything to do with me.

I guess that’s just how it is.  I guess the sooner I fully accept that the sooner I can move on.

I hate it.  I hate it.  I hate it.


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