a year later

I was only at school for an hour before I had everything wrapped and ready to go. I was glad I didn’t have to wait there for the rest of the day, I don’t think I could have handled that. Of course, I completely broke down as I walked out the door. That’s been well over an hour ago, and I am just getting a small amount of sanity back.

All I can think of is leaving school last year. It was my birthday and Chad told me to rush home that there was a surprise. I got home, he told me to pack, and that he wouldn’t tell me where we were going. He (and my other friends) didn’t tell me until we got there, a gorgeous condo in Breckenridge for the entire weekend. It was hands down the best birthday of my life (and one of the best experiences in general of my life). Then I had the rest of the summer living the life I have dreamed about. I wrote on my novel all day while Chad was at work, and then he would come home and we would have our life together. In my head, the only thing that would have made it better would have been if I had already been published. However, if I had to choose between that and living my life with the man I love, I would give up being published in a second. What does any of that mean without the person you adore to spend your life with? Again, I have to be thankful for what I received. I got a whole summer of living my perfect life, my dream life, and it really was everything I had ever hoped for, and I got to realize it at the time—how often does that happen?

Here I am a year later, and I have to celebrate my birthday with Chad the night before my birthday (on what would have been our two year four month anniversary—my actual birthday is the six week mark since he left me), I had to walk to out of school today to an empty house, to a summer that terrifies me, to writing I’m not sure if I can actually do, to a massage business I don’t want to have to start again, to knowing that the man I love, my best friend, isn’t coming back and doesn’t want to. Yes, I know that I have it easy, that sooooo many more people have it so much worse than I do. I’m not trying to claim I have it the worst in the world. However, I am hurting. I am scared. I don’t think I can hurt any more and then I do. I hate feeling how weak I really am. I’ve never been so broken or hurt so badly. I know at some point I will get through this and I will come to the other side, whatever that might look like. But, right now, I can’t see how to get there or how long I will have to stay in this misery.