‘I just want to be ok.’

Hell.

That is how my broken heart feels. That is how I feel. Like Hell.

I’m currently onto the hard working of getting over him, but “hard work” makes it sound much easier than it is. “Hard work” makes it sound like you can roll up your sleeves, and put your nose to the grindstone and exert some elbow grease and just get on with your life.

But getting over him is so much more horrible than that. I cannot even see the light at the end of the tunnel. I feel like there isn’t one.

I wake up in the morning and I think about him. I usually get out of bed and get in the shower just so my roommate doesn’t have to hear me cry. Again.

Then, I put my makeup on. There’s this citrus lip gloss in my makeup bag that I always wore when I saw him. Every time. And sometimes, I would put it on in the morning, just out of hope for seeing him later that day. I can’t bring myself to put it on anymore. The taste just reminds me of him. Not putting it on even reminds me of him.

I walk out to my car and turn on Christian radio. It’s helped, but so many of the songs are about “getting through the storm” that I always cry at least part of the way to work. I leave my phone upright in my cup holder, because I’m hoping he’ll call me and then I play out whether or not I’ll answer. I literally used to spend my car ride to work fantasizing out our wedding.

Then I get to work. Yesterday, I freaked out and ran to the bathroom so I could cry in the stall for 10 minutes. I try to do it quietly, in case anyone else is around. And I usually pray to God for help. Sometimes I yell at Him because I hate everything about this.

Then I wipe some cold water on my face and I go back to my desk.

Sometimes, for a few hours, while I’m busy, I find a sliver of peace in my day. But I still obnoxiously check my phone to see if he’s sent me a text, and I still click on Facebook 3 million times to see if he’s so much as “liked” any of my Facebook updates. Yesterday, I finally blocked him from my news feed. That sucked. I admit though that not seeing his status all over my homepage has helped some.

Then, I drive home. As I walk out of the office, I want to call him with all my heart.

Sometimes I do.

Sometimes, I trick myself into thinking there’s a chance he’ll see me tonight. That maybe I can convince him to just grab a scoop of ice cream or something and we can fix everything and it will all go back to normal. But that doesn’t happen. I’m the only one still holding on to what we had. He’s over it. He’s strong. He’s not going through this like I am.

If I call him, I hate myself afterward. I feel like weakness has enveloped me when I do it. I pray for strength, but if God is giving it to me, than I can’t imagine how I would still be standing if He hadn’t.

When I get home, I wait for my roommate to ask me about him. Or to ask me about how I’m doing. I want to talk about it, because I feel like I can’t breathe and I need help, and she’s been so incredibly patient with me. Never judging. Never condescending. Always there. Many times, she has saved me from the brink without even knowing it.

Then, after dinner and TV and a work out, I get to the hardest part of my day —falling asleep without talking to him.

Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I read the Bible. Sometimes I pray.

And really, sometimes, I end up calling him.

But his voice is different now, and I can hear the change and it makes me nuts. That’s really the worst part. I feel like the person I was in love with is dead. And it’s such a betrayal, because I wanted it to be forever so bad that it hurts.

My friend Stephanie told me that every minute I can get through without talking to him will make the next minute easier. I want it to be easier. And so, I have not talked to him since 8:51 a.m. Wednesday.

I take it one minute at a time. I congratulate myself if I can make it through different hurdles. First, it’s getting to work. Then, it’s getting through lunch. Then, it’s just getting through the ride home. Then, it’s finding something to do until I fall asleep.

And if I can just keep getting through each one of those every day, maybe I will be able to get through this.

Maybe.

I want to tell you that I’ve found healing, or write something profound, but the only things I’ve really learned so far is that heartbreak is hell; and that ‘be strong’ is a bunch of crap, because I don’t understand how to be; and that I can still remember every detail of holding his hand; and that when you cry yourself to sleep at night, your eyes burn red in the morning; and that I miss him so much.

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Comments (5)

  1. Mandy

    And what I can tell you – even if it’s a cliche and you’ll hate to hear it and even though you don’t want to hear it – is the next one will be better. Way better. You will find yours, I know it. You’re an awesomely amazing girl.

    In the now, take all the time you need. You’re worthy of it. And at the end of the day, everyone deserves time.

    Reply
  2. Krista

    Oh Crystal, I’m so sorry to read this. Makes me sad and have a tummyache all at once. I can so relate. SO relate. As can, probably, ALL of us. You’ll feel better. Eventually. You will. It might take a long time, but it’ll happen. I promise that. As someone habitually single and in the worst dating rut of all time, just know you’re not alone. We deserve the good things and happiness that will come to us — some day. One day. If that day ever comes. I have faith that it will. But until then, smile when you can. Remember why you’re amazing. XOXO.

    Reply
  3. admin (Post author)

    Thank you both so much. Mandy, what you said about time has meant a lot to me, and I keep going back to it as I work through this. I do deserve as much time as I need. And Krista, it’s nice to be reminded that I’m not alone.
    – Crystal

    Reply
  4. Singer7

    Wow! This breakup was really hard for u! How long were u 2 together?!
    Stay positive and take care, ok? just know that everything WILL be ok!

    Reply
  5. SCVegan

    sometimes, when i have a broken heart, i like to pick up the harmonica and pretend i know how to play breakup songs.

    Reply

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