I read this book. It's Called a Breakup Because it is Broken. The first thing I wanna note with this book is: wow, I've become the kind of person who reads self help books cover to cover. But also, it had some good advice, two points in particular that seem particularly poignant.
1: He wouldn't have broken up with me if he wanted to be with me. I.E. I need to stop thinking Instacopy guy is just going to appear suddenly, realizing he made a huge mistake and wanting another shot. I gave him another shot. He passed it up. Guys don't do that with the girl of their dreams. They just don't.
This is really hard for me though. Mostly because the relationship seemed so easy. We got along very well. There was chemistry. We made good friends with the others friends. I just have a hard time accepting that he doesn't want that relationship. So I find myself waiting for him. Thinking if he just saw me again, then he would want be back.
I'm afraid I'm going to spend my whole life waiting. This leads to...
2: No contact for two months. No. None. You think it will help, but it won't. You need two months to heal. Seeing him before then will set you back in the healing process. You need to get over him.
After all, Instacopy guy dumped me. Why should I even want to talk to him? Why do I want to be at least his friend? I should be angry or something. But the truth is I want to see him. I want to tell him about my day. Tell him how disiplined I've been in my writing since he left. Not to mention I don't want to get over him yet. I want to hold him in my arms. yeesh it's pathetic.
This is a hard rule for me. Not the least of which is we work across the street from each other. He lives four minutes from my house. There are few points in the day where I couldn't walk to where ever he happened to be.
To that end I decided to take a weekend trip. I went to the town that I attended college in. Hung out with those friends that made their home there after graduation. I needed to relax. Think about something else. Get away from dude. So I went to ground.
And it worked. At least alittle. My friends are truly wonderful people. One in particular (who shall remain even nicknameless because they read this blog and I don't want their head to swell with internet fame) helped me forget. At least for the weekend, my life wasn't about the man who dumped me or the Asshat I left before that. It was about fun, and friends, and to some extent, writing.
Then, coming home was like coming back to my problems. I guess I had hoped they would go away when I was gone. No such luck. They were waiting for me. My memories were waiting. My bed was too big for the one person in it. But then, I'm smart enough to know that a weekend fixes nothing.
It did remind me of something. Before the emotional grab bag that has been my life lately, I was someone. Complete. Loved. My life wasn't about who I dumped or who dumped me. It was just a life. A good one.
I want that again. That's the girl I want to be. In or out of relationship.