Healing After Heartbreak

[Guest SailingSolo]

I've always heard that when you meet the right person, you'll just know.

 

And I never believed that.

 

Until I met JR.

 

When halfway through our first date, I knew, deep in my soul, that I'd met my person, my other half, that I was on my last first date. And it was the last thing I ever expected to happen.

 

I lived a happy life, filled with love and trust and respect, for five years, until one day he walked out on the porch and told me it was over.

 

I was completely blindsided and shocked and wrecked and trampled and crushed.

 

That was five months ago, and I'm still not right. I'm still not healed. I still haven't let go.

 

I want to let go. I want to hold on tight. Somedays I have so much love for him I'm exploding with it. Some days I have so much anger and resentment for him I'm exploding with it. But most days, I'm just sad and faking it through the day.

 

I hope keeping this journal will help me on my journey of sailing solo in this life, navigating its waters without my best friend by my side.

[Guest SailingSolo]

Today is a day when I want nothing more than to call him.

 

He's been my best friend for five years. I lived with him, ate with him, slept with him, washed his clothes, cleaned the house, went on adventures with him, cried with him, laughed with him, watched TV in silence with him.

 

He is my old sweater that I wrap myself into for comfort and warmth.

 

We've been through job changes. Cancer. Diagnosis. Death in the family.

 

It's such a little thing, right? Pick up the phone. Call. Talk about everything and nothing at all. Except.

 

Except.

 

He doesn't want me to pick up and call him whenever the mood strikes me because let's face it, the mood strikes me several times a day and I have to forcibly remind myself to not do. He can handle hearing from me maybe once or twice a week.

 

Sometimes I wonder if he feels my absence. If it ever gets to him. If he looks around the house and my absence stings him like a bee. If he stares at his phone and thinks about calling me or texting me but then decides it's better not to.

 

I'm sitting in my new apartment, and I hate it here. It is small and close and my neighbors are loud and it is so very quiet at the same time, no guitar, no golf on the TV, no yelling down the stairs asking me how to spell something or to come look at something. I am homesick. I want to go home and crawl back into his heart and never get evicted again.

 

It's such a strange and lonely feeling to suddenly feel so unsure about what was once the only sure thing in your life. It is so weird to feel lost by a simple phone call.

[Guest SailingSolo]

It's kind of been a crappy week.

 

Work crap, drama, bull, nonsense - all rearing its ugly head this week.

 

I thought I'd be proactive and find a hobby so I'm not just sitting in the house, feeling sad and lonely, and the hobbies I currently have are home-based.

 

Everything I looked into starts in January. Or it's really expensive.

 

I went on meetup and there was nothing in my area that interested me.

 

The things that interest me are things I used to do with JR. None of my friends are into them. I want to do them with him; I don't think he wants me along.

 

I'm not really sure what to do; I just know I need to be out more, doing more, meeting people, and this is just a dead area.

 

I talked with him today, and we had a good conversation. Just kinda catching up on life. He always has been the brightest spot in my day, and so on days when I talk to him, I feel good. I feel like I can find a hobby or go out into the world and meet new people. He makes me feel invincible and that's amazing and sad all at once. Who doesn't want a person who inspires them? But then again, why can't I seem to inspire myself?

 

My mind is my own worst enemy.

 

But it was nice to just talk with him.

[Guest SailingSolo]

Happy Thanksgiving.

 

My first Thanksgiving alone.

 

It's a gorgeous day. Sunny. Breezy. 80 degrees.

 

All I can think is that at this time the last four years, I was home. Family and friends were over. I'd have spent all day yesterday cleaning and making desserts. Today, I would have cooked - a glorious turkey, fluffy stuffing, mashed piles of potatoes, creamed butternut squash, cut green beans, grudgingly cut open a can of jellied cranberry sauce. JR would have been out hunting in the morning and come home only in time to shower and greet people and that was just the way I liked it - me with my solitude in the kitchen, him with his in the woods, and then coming home together and sharing with everyone.

 

He would've complained about doing the dishes, about using good china, but he would've done them anyway. We'd breathe a sigh of relief once everyone was finally gone and then snuggled on the couch and taken that year's selfie.

 

Instead, I'm sitting on our couch in a my strange little apartment, all alone.

 

He called yesterday and he was short and told me I was annoying him.

 

So no more calls once a week or so. No more texts. No more nothing.

 

My love deserted me in June.

 

My best friend deserted me yesterday.

[Guest SailingSolo]

I've kind of been sitting around the last few days, pretending the rest of the world doesn't exist.

 

I've lost myself in books so I wouldn't have to think.

 

I started projects and couldn't quite finish them.

 

I've slept more than any human has a right to - cat naps here and there and then sleeping a solid nine hours a night.

 

I've eaten crap food and can feel the effects.

 

I've had too many conversations in my head.

 

Today I wanted to be outside. I wanted to go out paddle boarding for a few hours. Tire myself out. Get some sun and wind and salt and feel alive.

 

Except when I did my equipment check before leaving the house, my adjustable paddle was completely stuck. Like, completely. No budging at all. Which is weird, since I'm very careful to wash everything with fresh water and let it dry before putting it up.

 

I soaked it in the tub. Nothing.

 

I went over my dad's house and he tried. Used some lubricant. Used the mallet. We twisted; we pulled. We broke out the vice and the plumber's wrench and the darn thing wouldn't move at all.

 

We ended up breaking off the handle.

 

My dad didn't give up. He was determined to unstick it.

 

More lubricant. Bigger vice. More tapping.

 

Nothing.

 

He finally gave up.

 

But I was determined. I was going to go out today. I went to the store, intent of picking up a new composite paddle.

 

And of course, the cheapest one in stock was *well* out of my range, so I had to settle for having one arrive Tuesday.

 

It feels like a metaphor. I'm stuck and nothing, no method, no tools, no additives, are going to unstick me. The only solution is to throw me out and start all over again, shiny and new, baby steps into a strange new world all alone.