*Or “The Day I Began Moving and It Turned Into One of the Worst Days of my Life”
But let’s back up a bit. To Thursday night when I took some sleepy pills to try to force my body to get some much needed rest. Usually one Tylenol PM is enough to lull me to sleep, pull me into its trenches and keep me in REM for at least 6 hours. It also has the lovely advantage of blocking my dreams, which right now is a godsend for even in sleep I’m unable to escape this pain. Well friends, the Sleep Gods were against me Thursday evening for I only got about 2 hours of sleep, and every time I fell back asleep, I landed in the same bad dream. Not a scary dream where I was being chased by a murderer (though I’ve had some version of that dream often enough), but a dream that left me waking with such a heavy heart I wondered why I’d even bothered going to bed at all. My day started around 5am when I decided to stop trying to fall back asleep and just get up and get moving.
Friday I went for my last local 6-mile run, a slow and steady pace. You can’t cry while running you see. The remainder of the day was spent finishing packing and completing errands. I hung out with Jen Friday night, which was ideal for otherwise I would have sat in my boxed-up house and cried.
When I got home Friday night it was 11:30pm and I was tired. I collapsed into bed and waited for the tiny fingers of sleep to creep into my brain. I waited some more. I’ll bet my dear readers can guess how my night progressed - oh yes, I once again had a sleepless night. One where I would wake, look at the clock for the hundredth time that hour and then feel the tears well up yet again. You know you’re depressed when you’re waking up to cry in the middle of the night.
Saturday morning came. This was it. The Big Move. The move that would provide me, I so desperately hope, the fresh start I needed. I began by heading to Starbucks to get a delicious soy latte (a medium - or grande if you will - I needed a little more than usual). But see, this is where that fragile thread of sanity I’ve been clinging to snapped. Broke right in two and sent me down a path of complete destruction. For I pulled into the parking lot and saw the woman my ex is now dating.
I’m sure she’s a lovely woman, and to be fair, when he first disclosed he had started seeing someone the first emotion I felt was happiness. Happy that he was doing well. And I’m still happy he’s doing well. But people I’m also dying right now. Because I love him so much and so to know he’s moving on is incredibly heartbreaking. To know that love simply isn’t enough, and even though we’ve been separated for 9 months I guess I was still holding onto that sliver of hope that we would somehow get back together. That we would find a way to make it work. Because when you love someone as much as we love one another, it’s supposed to work out. But it doesn’t always.
And so to pull into the parking lot as she was pulling out… The most accurate and honest description would be to say that my heart fell out my ass. I was devastated.
I got home and called Aimee. She had barely said hello when I squeaked out, “I’m falling apart. I’m a wreck.” She quickly replied, “I’ll be there in 20 minutes.” It was 8am. My crew of friends was set to show up at 9am to begin loading the UHaul.
Aimee showed up and hugged me. Held me tight and promised me she would help me through this. That it would be okay. I clung to her, desperately wanting to believe her, yet not feeling that way in my heart.
8:30am brought the arrival of Josh and he immediately hugged me, clearly seeing the pain and heartache on my face. The rest showed up and soon I had 3 engineers expertly packing my life into the truck. (Pictures will follow soon people, but my computer isn’t yet set up - don’t worry, we’ll get to them).
We finished quickly and I began saying goodbye to my dear friends. I know I’ll see them soon, but it is hard to know they’ll be further away than they’ve been. And in these last few months I have grown incredibly close with my girlfriends and they have been the best support system I could have asked for. Leaving them is hard. Tamera and I stood in my kitchen, and then in my front yard, hugging tightly and crying. She and I have supported one another so many times over the past months. And then, because we could only cry so much, she drove away. And I turned to say goodbye to my house.
It is hard, to walk through an empty house and say goodbye to it. All the memories it holds. I walked through several times, crying as I went. Tracing my fingers across the walls and leaning my head against them. And then walking out and locking the door. Getting into my car and driving away. Calling Brian and saying, “The house is yours,” while tears streaked down my face.
Driving up, my dad commanding the UHaul and my mom following in her car, we caravaned to Alexandria. Except I took the wrong exit (damn construction on the beltway and Woodrow Wilson bridge!) and so I had to loop them around, confusing them thoroughly. When we finally got there, my mom said, “I certainly hope there’s an easier way to get here!” And I assured her there was.
My friends whose house I’m renting weren’t there so I broke in. And no I’m not disclosing how I was able to do such a thing for I don’t want the entire world to know how to break into my house. Let’s just say that I’m very flexible and bendy because of yoga. And that has its advantages.
Once in I had to bite my lip to hold back tears. I had to shimmy my way past boxes and shrink wrapped furniture to squeeze in. None of their stuff had been removed from the house yet. Nothing. Which meant that not a single piece of my belongings could be moved in. And my plan to stay there Saturday and Sunday nights, to at least set up my bedroom and try to have one room in the house settled - completely dashed. Instead, my UHaul sits in front of their house until Monday, when their movers will come and pack up their stuff and only then will I be able to bring in my things.
Saturday afternoon I headed to Virginia and Matt’s house. Collapsed on their couch and cried.
And so here I am. Homeless and wandering. Wanting desperately to be in my own bed with my own things. Wanting to have something to do, even if it’s just unpacking. At least I got some sleep last night. Up early again, but this time I’m sure I managed nearly 5 hours of sleep, and if that’s not a record for these last few weeks, I’m not sure what is.
And now I sit, sipping coffee, my calorie of choice lately, wondering how the fuck this is my life? I’m not eating, food has once again become a hassle I’d rather just avoid. I’ve lost 5 pounds thus far and we all know this is not a good thing, for this is nearly 5% of my weight. I’m trying people, but when I put a bite of food in my mouth my throat literally closes. It’s a chore to eat. I’m eating, just not much. Sleep seems to be another luxury my body has decided it can do without. And right now my eyeballs physically ache from crying so much. I didn’t even know this was possible. The only thing that allows me peace is running. Then I’m able to get out of my head and my heart for a while. It’s strange how little I think when running. It’s a lovely escape. It’s my only escape right now. But of course all my running gear is safely locked in my moving truck which sits in front of a house I can’t yet move into. So I don’t even have that right now.
And so dear friends, I am glad yesterday is over. Because I’m not sure I could have survived it much longer.
