It’s been days since Arrick left my room and I am barely functioning. I have moped around, either at
home until my mom’s pandering efforts have driven me mad, or at Emma, or Leilas’, who are equally
suffocating me. Jake is my only respite, with his shrugged off chill and his ‘life’s too short’ attitude. He
tends not to dwell on ‘matters’ with me and just lets me hang out. He’s keeping me sane, while
everyone else is mothering me to insanity.
I’m restless, listless, antsy, and just need to let off some steam to feel normal for one night. Every part
of my body is screaming to go out and get blind drunk and numb for a few hours, but I’m stopping
myself from going down that route again. Really trying to behave, listening to my counselor, whom I
saw this morning for the first time again, and trying like crazy to keep my head above water. My hearts
bruised and in pain but I’m handling it. I know why I feel this way, and it’s making a difference to how I
deal with it.
James, my therapist, suggested keeping a journal to combat these feelings, suggested I take up a
hobby or fitness regime to help with the urges to just drown my sorrows. He is fully on board with me
taking some sewing classes in town that interest me, and maybe trying my hand at a seamstress
course at the local evening college. He thinks a focus will help me move on in life, help me find my
path, and for once, my parents aren’t criticizing my choice of following fashion studies. I think they
realize it’s better than the life I’ve been living.
Arrick has tried to call me numerous times; I have no idea why he would even try. There is nothing he
can say to fix this, and I’m blanking his calls as talking to him will only make this harder to accept. He’s
back in the city, news going on about his fight tonight against some well-known pro that could really
boost his career, and I’ve already decided I’m going to go to bed and ignore it. While everyone else
here gathers at Jake’s house to watch it on his ‘humongous’ ridiculous screen in his cinema room. The
families always like to gather for ‘notable events’ like this. Huntsbergers and Carreros, the two halves
of my life.
I told myself that I need to cut ties with him if I’m ever going to get past this, have read enough ‘How to
heal your heart’ articles in women’s magazines in the last few days to arm myself with every tool
women use to get over a broken heart, and am fully committed to doing so. I want my life back, my
sanity, and some sense of control over things. I’m on this path now, to make myself happier, and I
intend to do everything in my power to change how I’ve been living.
All the usual suggestions have been noted. Get a makeover, cut your hair, get a hobby. Compiled a tick
list, sighing at them as I did so, but willing to try anything to get out of this two-year funk which has
driven me to this place. I’m being productive, taking matters into my own hands and trying to prove to
myself that I can beat this. Treat it like a bump in the road, and distance myself emotionally from what
‘it’ is.
I’ve listed everything, from burn anything connected to him, to wiping him off your social media. I put
everything that reminds me of him in a box and gave it to Emma. I don’t want to destroy the things he
gifted me over the years, but I know Emma will take care of them in case I ever feel able to have them
back. And there is a lot! I never realized, until now, just how often he used to buy me things. Stuffed
animals or little trinkets, or gave me meaningful keepsakes like birthday cards with whole paragraph
messages inside, letters he sent me when he went to London for four whole weeks and I told him I
wanted postcards and ‘snail mail’ as well as texts and calls. He sent me a daily postcard with an
attached breakdown of what he was doing on paper, in an envelope with whatever souvenir of his day
he’d found. I have café napkins, a bottle cap, a Big Ben keyring, and other random things from that trip.
I’m staying off all social media completely, taking down my accounts for timeout and hoping the break
will help me sort my brain out. Instead of all-out deleting him from everything, which would also mean
removing thousands of pictures. It would feel wrong to click unfriend or block on things he has always
been a part of.
Emma is helping me the best she can, being positive and focused and the joint group of four children,
between Leila and Emma, has been enough to exhaust me most afternoons. The twins, Noah, and
Wiley are only five, so between them, and Mia, and Lucah, running around the yard, I have found a
useful fitness regime.
I even watched little Adam, my brother Ben’s son, while his wife Grace was in town seeing family. He is
seven now; the absolute perfect likeness to Ben, and weirdly Lucah. They could pass as brothers,
despite no actual blood link. Not that I’m surprised, as Ben and Jake are scarily similar and had once
been best friends who looked almost like twins. All these babies have been a godsend the last few
days.
I hate to admit it to myself, but being home, and surrounded once more by these people, is doing so
much more for me than the last months with my so-called friends. Just the time to be at peace, and not
focus on anything except the kids and my family, is in its own way soothing me in ways that it never
used to. I guess knowing where my pain has been coming from has changed my whole outlook and
made it more manageable. Having that focus, having some sense instead of free falling has really
helped me get back to how I used to be, focused, and centered on more.
I’m watching Lucah build sandcastles in his sandpit while Mia hangs upside down on her monkey bars
in the back yard, sun beating down, and sewing a tester panel of stitches from a book I got from a local
sewing shop. So far, I’ve managed to master six of the fancy stitches, and majorly pleased with myself
at my ability to get this so quickly.
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