Gratitude

I'm sick. I have a cold and achiness. I suppose things can always be worse. Which is why this is my expression of gratitude (that and the recent holiday). I am thankful for my health, for my grandparents, my parents, my brother, for having great friends, for sleep, for compassion, for past love, for the potential promise of the future, for the capacity for and inevitability of change, for life. For things that put all the rest of it in perspective.

Day Two

I called him. I couldn't help it. I fell asleep right after talking to a very good and patient friend late last night and so never turned my phone off. I woke up very early this morning (not at all like me) and very suddenly. At that moment sleep seemed like an escape. All I wanted was to be able to go back to sleep because then I wouldn't think about him. I wouldn't feel the pain. I reached for my phone out of instinct and saw that there were still no messages and just lost it. Without thinking it through I dialed him and got his voicemail. I knew he was at work (he works very early and has very long days). It surprised me, but I felt somewhat better. I was actually able to fall back asleep.

A couple of hours later he texted me. I literally sighed with relief. He didn't say much of anything, but just acknowledged that I had called. I asked him why he hadn't called me. He said because he was a wreck, that he was miserable and depressed and catatonic and had lost control of his emotions. I hate to admit this, but I was glad to know he was so distraught. Because it made him human. It made what we had real. It validated it. You don't feel that kind of pain over someone you didn't care about. I didn't feel so alone in my suffering, even if he wasn't reaching out to me. It was also refreshing to feel sympathy instead of anger for a moment. Anger is exhausting. I wrote him a very long text telling him I felt out of options, that I felt forced to cut off communication with him, even though it was killing me and was not what I wanted. He didn't respond. Several hours later I turned off my phone. It is still off and will stay that way tonight.

I ran errands this afternoon (it took me most of the day to get up enough energy even to do that) and felt hope again for an instant. I'm not sure if I'm delusional, or a masochist, or just exceptionally and uncharacteristically optimistic, but I felt an inkling of hope. It gave me a little bit of energy. Maybe it was talking to him, knowing he was so upset about this, and that that might lead him not to give up. Maybe it's for survival, because without it I would not be able to get out of bed. I don't know, but right now I can't control it. But maybe it's keeping me in limbo? I just can't let go. As much as I wish I could, I can't, because it's not what I want. At least it's not what I've wanted. He is about a nine hour drive from where I currently am. I thought about driving there. Just showing up at his door to see what happened. Part of me is too scared of more rejection and emotional turmoil, of engaging in the act of a desperate, crazy person. But having the thought, having the option, oddly provided comfort. It gave me a tiny bit of control. I don't have to do it, but it's comforting to know that if things become more dire, if I feel more desperate, I could do it. What's the worst that could happen? It won't kill me. And I'm not sure how it could be worse than what I've gone through, worse than what I feel right now.

Short term goals. Right now I am trying to be nice to myself. To eat enough, to try to sleep, to limit my stress. I have to get myself back up to baseline to be able to move forward, to make progress. It's almost like I've fallen below the level of limbo, like I have to work through limbo first to be able to move beyond it. God, this is moving so slowly. Time is speeding and creeping at the same time. I am inert, and yet this is my life. This is how I'm spending it, this day, these months. It's so depressing. I feel like I'm taking baby steps forward and then being shoved back even farther than where I started.

The Escape Begins

The title of this post is actually mislabeled. I have been trying to escape for a long time. This is really the beginning of my blogging about escaping limbo. I am in crisis, a relative term, but crisis. The person I thought I would marry (relatively soon) broke up with me. It was 3 months ago. We had dated for 4 years. I was in the process of moving across the country and making major career changes for him, something I did not enter into lightly. We were on a trip together, with his family. He woke up in the middle of the night and told me he couldn't "do this anymore." It was like the plot of a bad Lifetime movie. I was literally in shock. I spent the whole night shaking, crying, in desperate disbelief. It was literally out of nowhere, or so it seemed to me. I escaped to my parents' house, called them crying in the wee hours of the morning, an adult forced to act as a child. Thankfully, they rescued me. I sought refuge. I tried to focus on just eating and sleeping (extremely difficult things to do under the circumstances) for a week. 

And then he called me. We have talked several times since. He has told me he's sorry, he wants to be with me, in various incarnations. I have felt temporary relief, but cannot take him at his word. Trust has been broken. I do not think it is a coincidence that he had a breakdown when real commitment was imminent. I don't doubt he cares about me, but something is keeping him from this. He is still hesitant, reluctant. This has continued for 3 months, my life on hold, in limbo, nothing changing. 2 days ago we talked for 4 hours. 4 hours! I don't know why it was different. I hit a wall. He didn't commit. He didn't ask me to move there, beg me to forgive him, to come back, declare that he couldn't live without me. As impossible as it seems, we somehow talked about nothing of any significance. He said he had more things to talk about. I told him we were growing apart, that I thought he was avoiding the issue, that he still couldn't commit after all this time.

 I told him this wasn't my choice, that I wanted to be with him, had always thought we'd spend our lives together. He said we had more things to talk about. I told him I couldn't "do this anymore." Not because I don't want to be with him. But because I really can't. My life is frozen. I'm stuck in limbo. He says things that are not reflected by his actions. I feel like I'm losing my mind. I trust him anyway. I agree to talk to him again, and again, thinking next time things will be different. I think he doesn't want to be with me, can't really commit to me, but doesn't have the guts to really let go, to be mature and rational and logical and caring in the process. It is outrageously painful, brain-numbingly painful. Sleepless nights, too sad to sob, gut-wrenching, nauseated constantly, death of my dreams, stab me in the heart painful. 

I said it because I meant it. But not because I don't still want this. I'm just desperate. I was prepared to let go, but secretly thought he wouldn't let me. It's been two days, no text messages, no phone calls. I've had to turn off my phone to save myself from the obsession of checking it. It's been my worst fear, but I honestly never thought it would be confirmed. On some level I still don't. I still have the delusion of reprieve. Or maybe hope? Insanity? We'll see. Time will pass, no matter how slowly, how painfully. And I have to try to take control of it in the process. This is my life. I'm on a mission to escape limbo. And hopefully to find happiness.

Oddly, I found my way into the blogging community through infertility blogs. It's a topic that has always fascinated me, and I related to the theme of loss. I have never gone through it myself, have never even tried to get pregnant, so I cannot possibly truly identify with the plight of infertiles, but their stories provided me comfort. These women were open about their loss, they were strong, and persistent and creative and inspirational. They were dealing with an issue that ruled their lives, but over which they had very little control. I identified with that. Trying to seize control over the things that you can, while acknowledging and accepting that which is beyond controlling. I don't know what category or community my blog would fit into. If anyone has suggestions please let me know. I am writing because it has always been cathartic, because I am desperate and don't know what else to do. I need a channel, a life raft, a salve, an ear, something, to aid me in the journey. Because right now it is really hard. It constantly hurts. The future is unknown. I need strength and comfort.