It just feels like maybe it’ll be easier to come out of me this afternoon.
I’m definitely in the right space.
I’m going to sit here and sip my drink and when the cute little girl who’s sitting across the table from me leaves, I will hit my pen.
Oh shit, here’s a kid
Right in front of me. I’m horrible with guessing ages. Still in a bottle sippy cup, comfy sweats like clothes, little stuffed animals… maybe 3??
I need to put up photos of Julie at every age and line them up on a wall/whiteboard. I need to talk to her through things. I need to show her that I will be there when she needs me.
I’ll hold her when she needs it. Tell her everything will be okay. I won’t leave her.
Is that it? I just want to not be left alone. Left out. Left in the cold. Left out of the group. Always different. Never able to fit in enough. Only the “like ones” can see and they call you out in embarrassing ways as a teenager.
“We” the excluded.
How do we make a place for ourselves? I had to leave the pot, it was stifling. Sometimes you can’t grow where you’re planted, you need a transplant.
I’m more alone than I’ve ever been in my life. Far away from the majority of people who love and care about me.
It’s hard, painful, gut wrenching and eye opening. I’ve made so much progress with the horses since the breakup. But fuck if I didn’t have a panic attack last night when I opened Marco Polo and didn’t see her on my chat list. My heart started racing and my entire body broke out in a sweat. I searched, found and clicked on her name. It immediately brought up the last Polo we had, over 2 years ago. Then I glanced at the top and saw she was active an hour ago. This chilling wave spread over my body and I had this feeling creeping up my throat, almost sitting there near the base of my brain. When I opened my mouth, a silent voice cracked sob and the feeling of my eyes welling up. I tried so hard to pay attention to what I was feeling. So much that I wrote it all down and texted it to Erik in real time. Yeah, I should probably send all this to my therapist. I don’t know what I felt at first. Fear? Panic? Absolutely. I couldn’t lose all of those videos. I’m paying ten bucks a month so I don’t lose all of the videos and I never even open the app. It’s full of her.
I still haven’t re-read the breakup letter. I’m scared if I re-read it, it’ll shatter this reasoning I have that’s allowed me to move forward. I know it’ll get stronger, my certainty, but right now, in those sad and lonely moments, all I want to feel is her body next to mine and under my hands.
Then I tell myself the really harsh truth: