I have a broken heart. I don’t know how to write about it, but thought I would try. I don’t want to come off sounding like a victim, or as someone filled with self pity. Guy has been gone two months for work. He told me a couple of days ago that he wanted to start over in California with a new job and a new woman. He told me was never coming back to Arizona.
It’s amazing to me that he doesn’t want his stuff, to include all his clothes. He said he doesn’t have the courage to face me. Yes, he broke up with me over the telephone. We had been together for thirteen years, not counting the other two times he left me for another woman. You would think I would have learned.
I loved him with all of me. He has taught me that I am very capable of loving another human being. All this sounds trite, but I really do mean it. I think love is as powerful as grief. I have many people in my life to love. I am capable of experiencing grief and not getting mentally sick over it. This will be my first time I have suffered grief and not wound up in a psychiatric hospital.
Air is a thing of beauty. I breathe deeply. The sun is not blinding; I can see quite clearly. The day will bot be lost to me crying in a corner of my condo. I will be joyous today. Unlike years ago, I am addicted to life. I want to show up for what happens next. Give me a dollar and I’ll hand you a hundred pennies. Each penny is someone I love or someone I haven’t met yet to love. The weight of them is magnificent. Tiny pebbles are easily found in the landscape outside my door. I feel the weight of them also. It is good to have both feet on the ground heading north toward my car in which I will drive to work, grateful to have a job that I love and colleagues who radiate.