Today I am feeling unsettled. I am trying to just look forward but I keep being drawn back into the past. I talked to him last night via text…just a message to let him know that I was planning on moving my things out August 5th, and to let me know how much I owe for rent. He said he would let me know. He also apologized again, saying that he cant say it enough to make up for this.
It was another nail in the coffin of our dead and gone relationship. His sadness is different from mine. His is of guilt for hurting me, mine is of missing him and wanting him back. Through that one text message I know that he doesn’t miss me. He isn’t regretting his decision. He is definitely not coming back. I felt like I wanted to throw up. I feel like any progress I have made has been pushed back, like I have to pick myself back up again. I know I am expecting too much of myself too quickly. It hasn’t even been two weeks, yet I am frustrated that I am not feeling more ‘normal’. I am impatient by nature, always have been. Having to slow things down, feel all of the shitty feelings, let them out over and over, day by day…its doing my head in. I want to break free and be past all of this already, I want to be on the other side smiling, happy and whole again. I know there is no specific timeline for that happening, but everyone has said it will ‘take awhile’. I can feel myself screaming inside out of frustration. Unfortunately I also now know that in order to feel happy normal and whole again I need to go through these things. I need to be patient, to repair my heart. I keep trying to set timelines ‘maybe in September I can feel more like the old me’ ‘maybe in October I can begin to move on’. My therapist says I need to stop that, and I know she is right. I need to live in the moment, live day by day. Focus on whatever I am feeling at the time. But I need an end date- I need to know that this isn’t going to drag on for 6 months or a year. Its a constant battle in my head of trying to rush forward and get past it all, and trying to slow down and feel whatever I need to feel.
I also feel out of place. I have nowhere to call ‘home’…no place to feel grounded. My parents house is basically packed up- out by the end of August. My Dads new house is just that- his. I will always have a place to stay there and for that I am grateful…but it is not my own. The hunt continues for a place of my own. The stress and worry creeping in and staying put right from the minute I wake up- free floating around all day. Sleep is still inconsistent and restless. I feel like once I have my own place, then I will truly be able to re-build, move on, start fresh. Until then I feel like I am going to be trapped in this state of mind…the agony, the uncertainty.
Despite how it may seem I really am trying to be optimistic. Optimistic that I will find a place to live, in the neighborhood I want. Optimistic that I will meet new friends and have a great life on my own in Toronto. Optimistic that when the time is right, I will meet a decent, kind guy who actually wants to be with me and the dog. But fear is optimisms greatest enemy.