I am starting my second weekend alone. I was invited out of town by friends but I felt like I would be intruding on their romantic weekend and chose to work instead. The truth is I am so behind at work I can barely see straight.
So, I am home. I am sad. I get weepy at stupid times. I am feeling sorry for myself. I am not missing him – well, I am not missing the him at the end, I am missing the man I met. The one who said he would take care of me, of things, the one who told me he never wanted me to have another boyfriend, the one who loved me, the one who made me feel small when he held me.
And I get sad because I am lonely. Because I do not want to be alone. Because I am tired and I want someone to watch this stupid movie with me and tell me all this work is worth it. That I will make enough money to do what I want for my birthday. That together we can make everything work out.
Not only do I not have that, the thought of dating makes me physically sick, so I am assuming I will be alone for quite awhile. And that makes me even sadder.
I have great friends. But they are all in relationships and have their own things to do. I plan on spending a lot of time alone in the next few weeks. I am planning things I want to do when I have time – hike, drive to the top of a local mountain and look west, yard work, etc. I will keep busy. I will be sad when I am alone and no one is watching.
In the end, I know I will be ok. The relationship was not going to make me happy and ending it made the most sense. But you can mourn things even when they were not perfect. You can mourn them even if they were downright wrong. So, that is what I will do.