Yes, I keep disappearing. I think I am FINALLY adjusting to this whole second shift schedule. It’s kind of weird. In a way, I like it, because I don’t have to get up immediately and get ready for work.
Of course, I’m not freakin’ getting out of bed until noon. Oops. Haha.
Anyway, I’m slowly getting back into the notion that I want to work on my health in all aspects. I want to get me back. Because me before Luke was great.
God, that’s the first time I put his name here. I didn’t call him “ex-friend.” Luke. There’s a lot of them so it’s not like you can hunt him down based on that little tidbit.
At moments, his name still feels easy rolling off my tongue. Something about it always felt so comfortable and natural. I’ve known other Lukes in the past, and I will say the same thing. The name just feels good rolling off my tongue.
Maybe that’s why I held on to him so fucking hard. Because it felt like it was supposed to work. Like I was supposed to be the woman that saved him. I wasn’t. He wouldn’t let me, and try as I might, I couldn’t and shouldn’t have tried to make him let me in.
This week, they played the sort of 80s/90s hybrid station at work. So it was a lot of the shit I heard on the radio growing up. Tears for Fears kept playing. In particular, a song he loves: Head Over Heels.
The fortunate thing about my job is it has a good amount of alone time. A brief desire to cry swept over me. I didn’t, though, because I realized I was done feeling sorry for me and for him. I think they call that “acceptance.”
My mourning phase is done and I don’t wish ill on him. I think part of me will always love him. But I’m cognizant of the fact that I deserve much better than him.
I don’t deserve a narcissist who won’t let go of his internal self-loathing. I can’t love someone hard enough if he cannot find any part of himself to love on his own.
I have to thank him though. If it weren’t for our falling out, and my desperate low, I wouldn’t have found the strength to go, “You know what? I need to leave.”
I would have stuck to that same dead end job and continued to try to drive myself crazy to be the woman he could love. My life never would have moved forward and I would’ve been trapped in this downward spiral.
I wouldn’t have spent hours listening to videos about core confidence and building myself up. I wouldn’t be redeveloping myself as a complex human being with many interests and hobbies. I wouldn’t have goals and dreams and aspirations that didn’t somehow revolve around winning him over.
I turn 32 on the 26th of this month. I’ve decided to create 32 goals to celebrate me. They revolve around helping me rediscover the woman I know and love, that deserves to be known and loved.
I’m back bitches.