I want to cry.
I sit here and that's what I want, but it can't be turned on even though I feel like a spigot with the supply right there. I was out with a friend this evening, filling her in on my mess and right when I even got to the point of starting to cry, the waitress walked up. Impeccable timing.
Crying actually makes you feel better. It's a part of our biology (which is fascinating), it releases endorphins. But I haven't been much of a crier in recent months. So much so that when I'm really tired, I'll feel on the verge of tears, but for no known reason. Generally I cry easily about things that are moving, but I think the year of pain shifted something in me. I haven't been able to cry much about this breakup even though I feel it, heavily. A week or two ago, I watched an incredibly sad movie just to get some out of my system. I of course palate cleansed with Parks and Rec after...because it's not that I like feeling sad, but I feel it and like it's big and unavoidable. I saw another friend tonight and she asked what's giving me life right now — running. That's about what I feel like is going right. And Mondays watching The Bachelor with my best friend and her husband who brings us dinner [like a champ!]
I guess I'd say I feel sort of pulled apart. I can't figure out why that is a fitting way to describe my mental-emotional state right now, but it is. I don't feel right, even my appetite is hardly there. I can't get my mind off of it, wake up thinking about it. See I was in an okay place when this new relationship happened, and it felt as if it was going well, something was finally going well...and then it wasn't. It fell almost as quickly as it rose to its high heights. And now I can't help but see I'm in a limbo that reflects the way my previous relationship dragged on after it was "over". So there's a tension in me: lean into potential familiar pain in hopes of holding onto something good; persevere, or turn away and try to wade back to hope that something else good is out there. Classically: fight or flight.
In spite of the fear that's stirring around in me at the familiarity of relational purgatory, I've been fighting. I want to show up and I want to love well. The weight of it all sits on my chest. But I think until it's really truly done, I just can't cry.
