I have come to realize that I am not always so great at expressing myself in the way that I wish to express myself or my opinions. (DUH!) When I posted earlier today, I wasn't really posting about my ex. Even though it had a lot to do with him, it really didn't have anything to do with him. It was about me and the steps I have to take and those I have already made toward becoming a better person. Or one that I am happier being anyway.
When I was younger, I was able to imagine myself removed from whatever situation I was in that was upsetting to me and from there, I could usually make the right decision on what I should say or what I should do. It's been a long time since I've tried to do that and when I tried this afternoon, I realized I'm a little rusty at it.
Basically, I tried to think of the day and my feelings from a few different points of view. A) of my ex, B) of me and C) of what I would say to someone else with these feelings. If I look at it from his point of view I can say that he felt strange calling my dad; that it was just a really hard day for him (since his dad passed away); that he didn't want my parents to think that there was still hope for us as a couple (since I haven't mentioned his new relationship to them); or that he just wanted to enjoy the day where he was and with who he was with.
My earlier post lays out my point of view, initially anyway. And if I try to look at as if a friend came to me with it, instead of it being myself, I think I would be likely to say, "It's time to move on. You have to let go. Let him be happy and find your own happiness because you deserve it".
The point of this part of the post is merely to say that I missed him (for some of the right reasons and, in all honesty, some of the wrong reasons) and that I just wanted to make sure my feelings came across the way I intended them (not to bash him, not to say, "poor me", not to be the bitch I was afraid I would be if I had called him that day).
I make myself laugh though. I have been in love twice. I fell for Love #1 when I was just 14. Love #2 (now formerly known to you as the ex) happened a little less than 10 years later. I was 23. There is nothing remotely similar in my experiences with these men. Love #1 and I only dated for about a month. I was in love with him long before that and for a long time after that. When we broke up it bothered me but was not a heart-wrenching event because I knew, in my heart, that we were not over. Not for forever anyway. (Looking at it now, I'm probably wrong.) With Love #2, as you've seen, there was/is more of a sense of permanence to the end of our romantic relationship.
Love #1 has sort of faded from my life. We were best friends for a long time, both before and after we dated. Of course, I suppose you could say we were also best friends with benefits for part of that time. And him not being in my life now is not the result of a fight or a tragic event. I started dating Love #2 and Love #1 moved away (and sucks at keeping in touch).
When Love #1's mother found out that Love #2 and I had split, she suggested I go visit Love #1. Wouldn't that be funny? Using Love #1 to get over Love #2! I thought about it but decided to rely on some of my other friends instead. I have to admit though that I've been thinking about Love #1 a lot these days.
In other rantings, ravings and the usual nonsense: I went to the gym today and am happy to report that I have lost half of the weight I gained last month. Amazing what happens when you exercise. (Can you sense the sarcasm?) As I was leaving the gym though, I noticed I had a voicemail message. It was from my mother asking me to come home immediately because my father was laid out on the front lawn and she needed help getting him back into his wheelchair.
Briefly... my father has Multiple Sclerosis and extreme heat bothers him (among other things). When he retired about four or five years ago, he started using the chair more but so much so that now he has to use it.
But back to the message. While I was at work, Dad decided to wash his car himself. God forbid he ask anyone for help (though I know he doesn't because he doesn't want to feel like an invalid, he wants to keep some semblence of independence). Anyway, it was too hot and it drained him. When I got home, he had managed to get back into the wheelchair and didn't want to hear any of my rantings about him waiting, etc.
With him back in the house I was able to go for my walk and at this point I NEEDED it. What surprises me is that I have really grown to enjoy walking alone. I used to walk with friends in high school and even after college but now it's my time to be alone. I don't take music or anything. I take my phone but more to time myself than to talk to anyone. I didn't push to get done in the required time today. I just wanted to be alone for a bit to think and maybe clear my head. It was good for me.
I do have to say that early on in the walk I wanted to strangle some women in front of me. They had a whole group of kids with them but between them all, they took up the entire width of the track. They knew there were people behind them who were not out for a stroll but there to exercise but they didn't move. They didn't tell the kids to move. I ended up speeding up enough to pass them and put some distance between us but had to veer off onto the grass to get around them. Sometimes I really can't stand people.
And on the drive home it seemed like every idiot out there was on the road. All of a sudden people don't use directionals?! I'm a mind reader? I'm supposed to know where you're going? I know, I know, I live in New York, what do I expect?! As if this wasn't bad enough, the bottom of my foot started to itch. Not a big deal unless you're doing 60 mph with an idiot on your tail and the foot that itches is the one on the gas pedal!
But now I'm home and I've had some time to decompress and everything is looking like less of a mess.