Last June when my fiance broke up with me, I was told it would take 8 months for me to feel myself again. (Calculated 1 month recovery for every 2 months of a relationship)
"Myself" meaning that:
My heart would no longer jump into my throat everytime the phone rang late at night thinking that maybe, just maybe it was him calling to apologize for being so stupid and beg me back;
I would no longer scan every license plate of every black BMW, or Ford 350 I pass on the road in case it was him;
I would delete and no longer update the MFM personal ad I placed for him on Craigslist;
I would be able to go out in public without paranoia of running into him; and
I would no longer consider slashing the tires on his car if indeed I did run into him in public.
It worked! Exactly 8 months have passed now and except for this blog, I have scooted him out of my thoughts. And the pain that I viewed as such a loss in my life, has been replaced by relief that I won't spend the rest of my life with an obsessive, controlling freakazoid. Sure, I still have the scar tissue wrapped around my heart, that will never dissappear. And thankfully so. It serves as a reminder to me to not "fall" for anything less than someone who can fill that place in my heart 100% and be everything I need.
It's just like when I have a craving for chocolate -- I'll devour an entire bag of chocolate chips cause that's what I have on hand, but it never completely satisifes that desire for the real thing - -, rich, european-chocolate -- if I could just wait.
In fact, I have a date this Saturday night. I think I'll order the chocolate fondue.
No comments:
Post a Comment