I called the whole thing off.
That’s right. I cancelled the wedding. I cancelled our engagement party a mere week before it was to occur, humiliating Alex and then I broke up with him. I kicked him out of our apartment. My mom came to visit we cleaned out all of the pictures of the two of us. Packed up his books and DVD’s and then all of a sudden my chest started to ache. I ignored the ache focusing on Alex’s flaws, not acknowledging mine and continued to do the things I was passionate about. I blamed him for my flagging social life, my lack of creative inspiration, my weight gain, my bad skin and hair… I. BLAMED.HIM.
I went out with friends, started going to spin class, went to Michael’s and got some supplies and hardware to work on paintings and build picture boxes. I took care of me, all the while blaming him for the fact that I had not done any of these things.
When people asked what happened I told them that he and I were in two different places, that he wanted to get married, I didn’t. That he wanted to have kids and I didn’t. When people questioned further, confused about my change of heart I grew angry and defensive, and then my chest would ache.
I told friends and family that I was happy with him gone, that I woke with a smile on my face. But I had to drink to fall asleep and the nights were very long and something didn’t feel right, then there was the ache.
Friday night, during my mom’s visit, my fingers texted Alex, though I had convinced myself I did not and my mind told me not to, my heart somehow pushed through the alcohol haze and sent “I love you”. He responded that he could not return after all that had happened. The ache returned and intensified.
He was done. Done with me. Done with us. Done with all of it.
The next couple of days I was greeted with silence from him, humidity from mother earth and worried glances and concerned pats from my mom. My friends called, I ignored them. My family emailed, I didn’t respond. Though short and closed off with everyone, I was doing a great job at convincing myself and perhaps those around me, who knows? That this was good, that I was doing well. I didn’t share the ache. But after my mom left and I was finally all alone and sober I panicked. I had made a huge mistake.
More to follow.
Thank you for reading.