I’m not ready for anyone else yet. I don’t want a rebound.
And honestly, it’s because sometimes the only way I can get through the day is to pretend that maybe, somehow there’s a .05 percent chance that we could get back together.
I cling to that .05 percent. Sometimes I have to just so I can keep breathing.
My roommate/best friend/personal life guard took me out Saturday night. It was supposed to be one of those nights where we clink glasses together and proclaim in loud voices that I’m obviously better off without him. One of those nights where guys hit on me and I get my footing back.
But it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. Not yet.
About an hour before we were planning to leave, she went into the bathroom and I went into the bedroom and then, well, I lost it. Because I miss him. And I wanted to spend my Saturday night with him. And because it still hurts.
She came out of the bathroom though and propped me up enough to get ready. And eventually, she, me and another girl made our way to downtown Naperville decked out in heels and flashy costume jewelry.
It took every ounce of strength in my body to make it as long as I did, which wasn’t very long. By about 12:30 I had nothing left, and I turned to my roommate and with tears in my eyes I said, ‘Please. I want to go home.’
And because she is my roommate/best friend/personal life guard she took me home. And then I went to bed and cried myself to sleep.
Sunday was better though. Sunday was church and I got to absorb the strength of fellowship. On Sunday, I felt a little bit more ok. Not a lot bit, but a significant bit nonetheless. Enough that I could finally fall asleep without crying.
A couple more days like that and I might just make it through this thing alive. And a couple more after that and maybe I’ll finally be ready for someone else.
For now though, my heart is too shattered to give away again.