It’s been nearly one year – to the day – that Mia found out her boyfriend and the father of their, then four year old daughter, was leaving. She found out a few weeks later that the catalyst of his leaving was an affair with another woman.
When it happened, she was in complete and utter shock. Physically, emotionally – she was absolutely wrecked.
During that time she wrote a series of blog posts, which I published here for her. If you missed them, catch up here.
Her good days now outnumber the bad but this morning she sent me another post after waking up to an all-too-familiar feeling. One that all of us seasoned single moms know all too well. Read on and I’m sure you’ll relate. Somehow, like she always does, Mia was able to capture that raw emotion into words.
I woke myself up from a deep sleep at 7am weeping. Like the kind of crying that you can only do alone. Curled up in a ball not sure if I was still in the dream or not. The crying felt good though. It felt like home. As I cried I longed to be back in that state again – the state I was in last year this time. A year ago tomorrow.
December 4th, when I came home from work on my lunch break because he didn’t sound right on the phone. Something was more wrong than it had ever been and I knew it, but I had no idea what I was coming home to. I walked into the kitchen and he was sitting on the counter crying, telling me he wanted to move out. It felt like someone had shut all the lights in the world off and I was left with a small, dim, flashlight searching for the meaning in what was happening. I sat in the kitchen chair that day, weeping in the same hollow, painful way that woke me up this morning. And it didn’t stop for months.
That seems like so long ago. And I have come so far. So why am I sad now? Why did it feel good to cry like that again? I have been asking myself that question all morning. What was comforting about the way I wept this morning? Is it that I don’t want to be over it? I don’t want to be moved on? Maybe. Not yet. The sadness was a blanket that allowed me to hide. To keep myself from feeling that it was actually over.
I know it is over, and I don’t long for my old life back, but I am not ready for it to be gone completely either. I don’t want to think about what lies ahead, good or bad. I just want to lean on the crutch of ‘I can’t believe this happened’ for a little while longer. To use it as an excuse to be sad at the drop of a hat, drink wine for no reason, hug my daughter a little longer than she wants me to.
So, my dream…
I was in a car accident. I didn’t remember it but I knew I was in one. I was wearing my old Allman Brothers tee shirt, underwear, and nothing else. It was cold on my feet but I didn’t care. I was walking to find him. I walked up to the bar I was sure he was at, it looked more like a shack on a junk yard, tires piled up and gloomy. A man I didn’t recognize greeted me by name but I could tell he was worried by how I looked, a look of shock on my face.
I walked past him through the bar to the back where he was sitting at a table, half under a tarp, with a group of people. He was playing a hand held video game and looked up as I neared. I could see his mouth moving and I thought he was asking me to play with him, and I smiled, feeling better that I had found him. As I got closer I heard him more clearly say “I am done playing these games with you.” I began to beg him for help, trying not to cry. He asked me to please leave, telling me it was inappropriate for me to be there. Inappropriate. I have heard those words a lot lately. It doesn’t sound like him.
I wasn’t surprised he wouldn’t help me, but I was crushed. I felt like I should have known better. I had felt this longing and rejection before. I felt it last year at this time. I let it consume me and I dropped to my knees crying the same cry that woke me this morning.
This isn’t supposed to be a sad story.
I feel like I am just where I need to be. I accept that I am doing the best I can and I am not going to apologize for not being “perfectly fine”. I am better than fine- I am normal. I have my ups and I have my downs. Knowing my limitations, and what I am not ready for is a good thing I guess. I am not going to let myself go back to the sad place I was in before but I won’t beat myself up for enjoying the good cry this morning either.
Maybe I am just done playing games. The games that keep both of us from fully moving on. The invisible string that keeps us emotionally wrapped up in each other needs to be cut. Maybe we are both ready to do that. Finally. A year later.
I got up from bed, washed off my face, and went in to my daughter’s room and hugged her for a long time. She hugged me back and I felt all the goodness I will ever need. I felt perfectly fine, if even for just a moment.