It also seems to me that writing about it is making things easier. I've always held this belief in the more twisted corners of my brain that if I don't write/talk about it, then it's not real. This is one reason I never really sang my feelings for Alex from the rooftops; one of my greatest fears, which it seems I'm facing now anyway despite all the precautions I took, is facing the embarrassment/pain that comes from loving someone more than they love you. I'm not sure where I internalized this notion, but I think it mostly has to do with the concept that if no one knows about it other than me then, then I'm the only one who knows that I've been made a fool of. Solitary disappointment is far easier than public embarrassment.
Following that line of thought, it follows that if I write about this breakup, get it out in the open, tell other people about it, then that means it's real. I think what's been the hardest over the last couple days is getting over the denial phase of grief. On the one hand, I'm not delusional: I know that I initiated a conversation that, going into it, my brain knew was going to result in not only the demise of a four plus year relationship, but also the immediate severing of contact with a person I love dearly. On the other hand, my heart obviously doesn't listen to reason or logic. I've spent the last few days having moment after moment where I go through this awful cycle of "Do something that reminds me of Alex. Remember that he is no longer a part of my life. **********sadness*********** Think that maybe this is only temporary and he will call me any time now to tell me that he wants to work it out."
I know I need to cut that out. While, sure, maybe someday he and I will get back together, it's not only not conducive to "getting over it" but it's also not up to me. I wasn't the one who wanted out, so it's not going to be up to me to want back in. What happens will happen, but I know I need to operate under the assumption that it's 100% over. Writing it out, thereby making it "real" is helping quite a bit. As is slowly telling people about it.
I really, truly hope that I will be able to work through my feelings soon. I really do think it'd be nice, especially if Alex will be going to grad school in the city and possibly living/working there, to be able to see him and hang out and be friends. I don't think I'm going to be lacking for friends in Chicago, but having one more that I'm actually close to would be nice. For now, I'm judging my ability to be able to realize that dream by assessing my Hope-Meter. Right now, the needle is still flickering into the red zone of "maybe if we hang out he will miss me and we can get back together because I want to get back together." When I imagine the prospect of seeing him face to face, maybe even hugging or something, and my Hope-Meter reads at something like "wistful nostalgia and nothing more", then I think we'll be good to go. Also possibly using my reaction to the suggestion that I date other people as a barometer also. Right now the thought makes me sick to my stomach and rather horrified.
Today is feeling easier than the last couple days. I was able to write this whole thing without crying (my eyes threatened to tear up once or twice, but it subsided rather quickly). I've seen that life is going on as usual, that I have a lot of people who care about me, some more than I thought, and the fact that I have a metric ton of things to do in the next week which doesn't allow for a lot of moping time is helping to not only distract me, but show me a glimpse as to what it will be like to feel normal again.