I’m not there yet.  I don’t cry anymore, but the emptiness, the loneliness is like a yawning bottomless pit that threatens to swallow me up.  I confide to Devil me, “It wouldn’t be so bad to just disappear.”  Steady gaze, no reply.  I wonder if she thinks that I’m considering it, but I can’t.  I have children to tether me tightly to this life.  I can’t just pull up stakes and go start over elsewhere.

Still, I wish I could run away and reinvent myself.

D ran back to his friends and his real girlfriend.  He’s suffered none of the emptiness because I meant nothing. 

That realization was enlightening.  When I think about it, no one ever really loved me.  I was married to someone who only married me because I could bring home a good paycheck.  My happiness wasn’t important.  It was no different this time.  D was with me for some reason, but it wasn’t because he loved me.  He strung me along, tossing a few crumbs.  No one has ever loved me.  No one. 

I have children who love me.  Family and friends love me.  But there is no life partner for me.  No one wants me to live in their heart.  Nothing is so devastating as that – to realize that no one has ever wanted me to be in their heart.  I’ve looked for a lifetime, but there’s no one there. 

There will be no bouncing back, I’m afraid.  It would appear that I’m flawed beyond repair.

He lied to me all along.  He had lied, slick as could be, calling off dates to go with friends.  He told me that he was working overtime.  He lied about being called in to work.  He lied about family visiting.  He lied about spending time with neighbors. 

I’m surprised that he was able to keep it all straight.

Mostly though, I was confused.  I told him that I understood that he wanted to spend time with friends, that I had no intention of making him choose.  I just wanted someone who wanted me to be his girlfriend all of the time.  He told me that he wasn’t going out to events with his friends, that I was wrong, that he wanted to be with me.  Then he lied to me and went out with his friends, cancelling dates with me to be with them. 

Why not just accept that we were done and let me drift away?  It’s not like he loved me.  He had said before that he only wanted a girlfriend part of the time.  I tried to live with that, but it was painful thinking that I wasting time with someone who was never going to be “serious” with me.  I couldn’t take it.  I was honest, and didn’t ask him to change.  I just backed out.

He was the one who called me back.  Then he lied to keep me handy.  He still didn’t love me, so I can’t comprehend why he wanted me back.  Somewhere in all those lies he tells he is likely hiding a real girlfriend who he really loves. 

I stay away from him now.  I tell myself that I mean nothing to him.  I pour myself into work and home. 

The baby we operated on last week….isn’t doing well.  There is a possibility that he’ll return for more surgery.

I “first assisted” on a major trauma surgery today, and the surgeon was complimentary.  It wouldn’t be bad to cover trauma service regularly.  I have to calculate my hours and test to certify again, but it would be worth my while.

Devil me tells me, “You have that.” 

Relax…and ride…

I should have broken up with him yesterday.  I could have taken the iPod nano as a nice parting gift, but I handed it back.  He wanted to upgrade it.  Just as well, because it would have been a reminder of him.  Part of me is relieved that it’s over.  She sits in the corner with blank eyes, shellshocked and looking hellish bad. 

I caught him in (another) lie.  I called him on it, and he tried to turn it on me.  I didn’t back down, just outlined the facts and the most recent events.  Then I backed away, and gave him back to his friends.  He stopped responding, but continued to read the pain that flowed across the screen.  I wasn’t hysterical, he couldn’t argue. 

Then I cried and cried…because it sucks to be lied to by someone you gave a million chances to.  I feel like a fool, but mostly I just have a pain in my chest that is so penetrating and agonizing that I wonder if I might die.  There would be worse things.  He could wait awhile and try to contact me again.  I laugh mirthlessly and hollowly into the night. 

Devil me and Angel me are absent.  I hope that they’ll hold me back if he does contact me.

I should have known that he wasn’t sincere. 

I work and rework the script, the classic “Dear John” letter.  Three copies are saved to my documents.  All have a different tone.  One is “Ghandi Me”, mild and bland, without accusation and oozing zen-like prose.  One is rather humorous – “Comedienne Me” – that shrugs it’s shoulders and says “Thanks for the memories.”  One is hellfire, a snarling dog that can’t be approached, as in “No argument.  You FUCKED up big time.”

The script that develops encompasses all three.  Devil me giggles and claps her hands when my tone becomes angry, and when my eyes are lit with a dark fire and flash black sparks.  Angel me begs me to stop, “I HATE it when you do that!  You look evil when you do.”  Devil me brays laughter, “That’s why it’s so damned funny!  She’s always so sweet and understanding.  I’d love it if she’d just go off on that asshole.”

D stays in touch, wanting to know my work schedule, my call schedule.  He tells me again that he’ll not open my gift or card until I get there.  He calls me by his pet name for me, telling me that he wants to spend time with me, that he got me a nice gift.

I pace and stare at my phone.  Snarling, because I don’t want to go over.  He pushes for a New Year’s Eve visit.  Impossible.  I’ve promised the kids I’d stay in.  We do.  I drag one to the laundromat and we watch clothing toss in the machines.  We fluff and fold a little.  We keep to ourselves, the only white people in the laundromat.  This is the neighborhood I grew up in, so I’m comfortable.  My oldest reads for awhile, then helps a young lady take her clean laundry to her car.  She smiles and thanks him and me, clearly charmed that kids still do the right thing.  I know the feeling.  I get all warm and fuzzy when I see young people doing the right thing.

Mostly, I try to concentrate on the laundry.  Another text arrives, Holiday Greetings.  He is off on New Years Day.  So am I.  I wonder if I should go over, open gifts, and end it for good.  He’s open to having me stop by.  I start to dread it.

I end up breaking down.  I agree to come over, even if it means breaking up with him on New Years Day.

…..to be continued….