It’s been a while since I’ve posted. I’ve been on a bit of a downward spiral and everything I have tried to post has turned into an insane rant that made me sound crazy. The truth is… I have gone crazy. But I’m pulling myself out of it bit by bit and I’m ready to post about it now.
To begin with… the ex and I were on a break. At least that’s what I thought. We were separated for almost two years, but spoke daily and saw each other almost as often. I was not looking for anyone else – the thought never even crossed my mind. We discussed getting back together, but we would fight again and nothing was ever set in stone. For me, anyway.
For him, it was a different story. He was looking elsewhere. And when he found someone else, they began dating. They posted lovey dovey pictures on their Facebook pages. They slept together. And then he told me he had found someone else and we were over for good. I did not handle it well. In fact, picture every crazed stalker sociopathic ex you’ve ever seen in the movies, whack them all together, and that was pretty much me. I’d like to think I would have handled it better if I had known we were definitely over before he started seeing another woman. But, in truth, I don’t know. I possibly would have flipped out just as badly as I did.
Two days ago was when it started to turn around. He picked up the rest of his things two days ago. He dropped off some things of mine that he had, including my old laptop. I was feeling a little bit good about it being over, when I looked at the laptop. He had deleted everything off it, as I had asked him to, except for one picture of him and her together. He had his arms around her and they were both smiling at the camera. The picture perfect couple. It felt like someone had slapped me in the face… I felt numb. It was the first time I had seen them together. I had seen pictures of her (yes, I stalked her Facebook), pictures of her kids, obviously pictures of him, even ones taken since we had split. But never of them together.
I haven’t seen or spoken to him since that night. I haven’t felt the urge to. I had sent emails, texts, angry voicemail messages that were never returned before that night… any way that I could contact him, I had done it all. But nothing since then. Today was the first day that I felt good more often than I felt bad. I haven’t cried today… yet. But I don’t think I will. I feel… not happy, it’ll be a while before I can say I feel happy… I don’t feel unhappy. Does that make sense?
I thought I might cry while posting this. But I’m smiling right now. Something I plan to do more and more often from now on. I’m still not looking for anyone else. It’s too soon for me. But I am looking after myself. I stopped eating, stopped showering, even stopped leaving the house for a while there. I lost a lot of weight and like the way I’m looking now. I’m eating again, but went out today and bought a lot of fresh, healthy food so I can keep my new figure. I showered today and even managed to whack on some cleanser and moisturiser too. I need to work on brushing my hair though. Although, messy buns are still fashionable, right?
I’m feeling more positive, more confident, more alive every day. I hope this continues. I hope that if I have a bad day again soon, and I probably will, that I can pick myself back up again quickly. Mostly, I just hope that the good days outweigh the bad from now on. I’d be happy with that.