My Life has become a Bootleg Copy of Sex & the City...CONTD PT 2

DAY 4------------

What a douche.                         

He’s a Fool. “Fool”, I love that word. (Said my little brother)

He’s never been into you.

Be glad this happened now and not later.

Thank God that’s over.

There will be many happy men in the world now.                     

You would think these responses to the end of my relationship would instill some sort of ease with the situation, buffer the pain perhaps, but it doesn’t. See, I don’t think he’s a douche; I cannot polish the halo over my head. And despite what others said, I did think he was the one for me; you can’t judge a relationship from the outside. My heart doesn’t want him to be a lesson; I want him to be my degree.         

I’m not sure if my state of mind makes me a hopeless romantic or completely delusional. Here’s the thing about break ups: they suck no matter how you try to sugarcoat them. I try to console myself  ‘till I am blue in the face with the knowledge that it is a positive change (..and it is), but my spirit remains in withdrawal.This is way past pathetic and quickly spiraling beyond my control.    

   

DAY 5----------

“Dad! Where’s my hockey stick?” My brother’s voice boomed out of Armando’s mouth. It took only a moment to realize I was dreaming. Armandos’ face started to fade and morph into the monkey painted on my brothers’ ceiling. I instantly tried to fall back asleep to that moment, to having Tony in front of me. Perhaps breaking his nose or cracking his skull on the pavement would appease the fire burning in my belly, even if it is just a dream.         

This hurts so much. I want to keep sleeping.                                                                          

No luck. I just lay there staring at the dust particles caught from the sunrays bleeding into the bedroom.  I began trying to envision him and I in pink bubbles. I had read that if you meditate on positive visions in pink bubbles, they imprint the image on a metaphysical level to the Universe. I believe it has something to do with the color pink associated with the heart chakra, but anyway, I digress…….                                      

After dragging myself out of bed, I stumbled down my father’s steps, pass the foyer, through the kitchen to the coffee machine, annoyed at the sunshine illuminating everything so beautifully. Pouring my morning fuel I looked up and noticed my father outside the French double doors, by the pool…shaving his head. 

 I started bawling like a little bitch.                                                                                         

I recalled how anxious I was when Armando asked me to buzz his hair for the first time and how accomplished I felt covered with all his tiny little hairs. I missed running my fingers thought his hair. Oh the dumb shit a broken heart stresses.                                     

Steph, my gorgeous Kim Kardashian look-alike best friend walked in. “You’re crying again?” She was half sympathetic, half annoyed. “Didn’t you like, break up with him first?”                         

“It’s not about that, Steph.” I wiped the boogie from my nose and kept sipping my coffee, I wish I could rewind back to 15 start from scratch because right now anywhere seemed better than here.                

“You weren’t this sad about Eddie, “ Steph reminded me. Eddie was my longest companion, but Armando had somehow managed to carve a bigger hole in my heart. Steph walked over to me and hugged me, an overwhelming sense of gratitude flushed my soul. I realized certain things don’t change and I could take comfort in that. She would always be my bestfriend. And although it pained me to have her see me like this, I knew on some level it was bringing us closer. With that, my gratitude for the situation began to build.

Day 5, 5 days left. I know how to count, I’m writing this in the early afternoon, so today counts. Every single miniscule second counts when your heart is mending.    

DAY 6 through 9 ----------

A consistent way of conflicting emotions and really dumb thoughts engulfed my life for the next week and a half.

 Thank God it’s over. I can breathe. Why doesn’t he love me?   He’s a child. I’m so miserable. I can’t believe I let him do that to me…I can’t believe he let me do that to him. Cry, cry, cry, snot, snot, snot…..   

I made it a point to carry my sunglasses everywhere, despite the constant rain. I was an open sore and the tiniest of dust particles triggered a tsunami of tears from the pain. I knew I should be writing more, being productive and not bitching to everyone about my temporary heartbreak, but this writing business is no joke when you’re dealing with a broken heart.                                     

Let me sit here, alone, with my thoughts. That’s a brilliant idea!  Why not just cut me and pour lemon juice on it.    

Somewhere between day 5 and 6 I had enough of my wallowing. There was no way I would go down like this.  It had become bigger than him, it had become about me.                                     

I redecorated my home; this proved successful. The cozy apartment where I lay my hat has never looked better and my fabulous roommate Ricky agrees. I bought a kick ass piece of art I’m particularly proud of.

I applied for travel, continued riding my Rock Star wave, planned a trip to India, resurrected friendships, created new ones, got rid of over half of my possessions and feel “lighter” than I have in years...

I also began contemplating what I expected to have happen at the end of these 10 days. Was there a goal? Did I expect the Gods to deliver an upgraded version of Armando to my door? What was the point to all of this? Was I going to want him back?

These last few days had brought such peace to my heart and inspiration to my soul, why would I want to stop that? Things were looking up and I was creating a world for myself I adored. I had truly forgotten how blessed and fortunate I am. But I can’t lie; through it all my heart was still a mere scab and I couldn’t help myself from picking at it.    

Day 10------------- 

I called Armando yesterday thinking I was ready to talk to him. He was distant, dismissive, and indifferent. He said something I won’t repeat out of respect for his privacy, but I can gamble it may have been that exact phrase that did it. There was no kindness in his voice and the wall I had worked so hard at tearing down had been rebuilt with better, more weather resilient materials.

I saw the version of Armando that hurt me. Not a mean man, just a kept man. Armando is the sort of spirit who only sheds light in moments of his approval. This hurts because his light brightens my life, but alas……

I surrendered; this was a war I could no longer fight. And despite it all I knew he was hurting too. He had the balls I didn’t have; the balls to admit when something is not working despite really wanting it to.

My last fit of tears ended with the television inexplicably turning on to a music channel, The Beatles, “Hey, Jude” was playing. It’s my favorite song.

Hey K, don’t make it bad….

I cried and cried and the sobbing eventually evolved into laughter. This was the beginning of something huge. The tides of change have arrived.                                    

Take a sad song and make it better….

My entire life I have hopped lily pads and moved like a rebellious gypsy who leaves the pack, but keeps true to her wandering roots.  Life has never kept me in one place for too long and I was now grateful for that.             

Remember to let her under your skin,

Like a lotus flower I float without roots. Something in my brain rewired itself. This contemplative longing was sooooooo not cute. Besides completely interfering with my creative visualization, it’s totally counterproductive for my soul searching. I was feeling more like myself than I had in months. Oh sweet day, when you accept that nothing is failure.  And so today I stuck a fork in this bitch. So done.

Then you’ll begin to make it…..

I truly loved someone in all their imperfect glory. Despite what I saw and disregarding what I heard, I followed my heart. It was love, at least on my part, and from it I learned I needed to love me more than I did, more than I ever have. Today I am ready to fall in love - with myself.                 

Better, better, better, better, better, better, oh!

I quote my spiritual counselor Enlightment (yes, it's spelled correctly -it's her name), “You have to stop being a brat & bullshitting yourself. Stop making excuses and rebelling against growing up. You are a woman; free & independent. That is what your God wants for you.” These 10 days of “Love Rehab” immediately converted to a timeless journey of soul, spirit, and mind regeneration because after all, that was always the point.

Na, na, na, na na na na, na na  na na, hey K………