Archive | May, 2011

Day 366. And counting.

31 May

Just to boot:

The day after Memorial Day last year, I woke up on the couch in a haze of complete disbelief after a very restless night.  My best friend was on the couch next to me.  The TV was on.  I was out of tissues.  I immediately felt sick to my stomach.  It hadn’t been a dream.  I distinctly remember thinking, “I don’t know how to do this.”

In  contrast from that terrible morning one year ago, I woke up and went to work today.  When everyone asked me how the weekend was, I told them the truth: “so busy, and so much fun!”  Sure, there were absolutely moments of emotional uncertainty but they passed…a lot quicker than I expected.


What a difference a year makes

30 May

Friday, it started like any other…

  • Then: Office closed at 1 pm and I met my best friend to go shopping for bridesmaid dresses.  Margaritas followed.
  • Now: Office closed at 1 pm and I met a close friend for pedis, shopping and happy hour.  Happy hour #2 followed.
  • Then: Went to sleep – unknowingly – with my fiancé for the very last time.
  • Now: Went to sleep – alone – for the 363rd night in a row.  Well, almost (wink, wink).

Saturday, I wasn’t worried about my engagement – just him….

  • Then: I woke up with my fiancé; he needed to clear his head.  He kissed me good-bye and told me he loved me.
  • Now: I woke up with the sun streaming through my windows and headed directly to my friend’s roof deck.  (As my girlfriend will tell you, “It is summer bitch!”)
  • Then: Planned an evening and weekend for us that would never happen.
  • Now: Planned post-roof deck cocktails at my place with friends and a 7:30 pm show time: Bridesmaids (with three bottles of contraband champagne in our bags, of course).  Unexpectedly ended up playing peer bong at Whiskey River afterwards…

Sunday, something was off but nothing I could ever have imagined…

  • Then: Watched the clock with a sinking feeling that something was terribly wrong; I would never have predicted just how wrong things were about to go.
  • Now: Watched the clock because I had a train to catch at Penn Station; my girlfriend and I were Long Island-bound for a birthday BBQ.
  • Then: Stayed home from a friend’s wedding, paralyzed by that sinking feeling.  It kept me up all night.
  • Now: Stayed home post-BBQ, crawling into bed with my kindle and falling asleep in a sun- and booze-induced coma.

Monday, the first time in life I have ever thought “what now?”…

  • Then: I felt dizzy from the incessant crying.  I asked my two girlfriends, “What on earth is wrong with him?  Why is he doing this?”
  • Now: I felt dizzy for just a minute this morning as tears welled in my eyes.  But I shook it off and put lip gloss on; I had to catch the ferry to Governor’s Island to meet up with my crew.
  • Then: 6:51 – the moment in which I heard my ex-fiance’s key in our apartment door for the last time.  As the door creaked open, I should have heard our lives changing forever.  I knew within seconds as he sat next to me on the bed, took my hands in his and tried to look me in the eye.  But he wouldn’t; he couldn’t.  This was it; the demise of our relationship, the end of our almost-marriage.
  • Now: 6:51 pm – I was already home, showered and comfortably tucked away in my bedroom.  I had given myself exactly 30 minutes to walk away from the festivities on Governor’s Island.  Instead of dwelling on what happened or almost mistakenly was, I walked along the water and thought about…well, what a difference a year makes.

Memorial Day 2.0

29 May

As t0morrow approaches, there seems to be a sarcastic and comically surreal need to personally thank my ex-fiancé for bookmarking my summer with such (un)meaningful moments; the debacles he initiated to commemorate Labor Day weekend (our engagement) and Memorial Day weekend (the breaking of that engagement).

I summed up my anticipation of Memorial Day this year in just three words to my best friend:

“I’ve survived worse.”

Wake up call

28 May

I expected to be up most of the night last night.  Or maybe in a semi-buzzed/drunken stupor at least.  Willing today to not come.  This morning marks the last morning, one year ago, that I woke up thinking my life was comprised solely of decisions within my power, and that this life was just a summer away from being everything we had spent five years building.  A so-called happily ever after…if you believe in those endings.

It was one year ago today – very early in the morning, still in bed – that my fiancé told me he needed to clear his head for a few hours.  But everything would be fine; he loved me – his promise, not mine.  Whether he knew it in that moment or not, this was clearly a gross exaggeration for what the weekend would ultimately hold for us.  I never could have fathomed the journey that would lay ahead following this early morning moment.

After he left I showered, went for a mani/pedi, ran errands.  I thought about what we would do for dinner that night.  I didn’t realize that there would be no more dinners; that the next time he set foot in our apartment it would be to end everything.  Explanation not included.  This final turn of events wouldn’t transpire at for another 48 hours though.  I had no clue in what would be our final moment, as he kissed me good-bye and told me he loved me, that he was in fact confirming that my life was about to spiral to a place I had never imagined possible.

Just stated

27 May

Actual statement I made to one of my girlfriends via gchat just now:

“Can you imagine what he’d do to you in a bedroom?”

The topic of conversation is Jack Bristow.

Yes, from Alias.

Hey, I’ve got a thing for older men.  And spies.   Especially double agents.

What May really brings

24 May

I’ve held off on this because, quite honestly, I didn’t want to admit it to even myself.  I approached May with optimism and with the hope that it would be just one more seemingly meaningless milestone.  In the interest of dramatics though: uh, Memorial Day weekend is here.

Here is what May has really brought: reliving the final weeks of my ill-fated engagement in such excruciating detail that I am emotionally and mentally exhausted.  When no one is looking of course.  I’m trying, in utter vain and for the first time  in a very long time, to figure out how on earth I didn’t see this coming.  There must have been clues.  Signs.  A warning of some sort.  An irrepairable argument.  A shift in his behavior.  A different feel to his touch.  A distant tone to his “I love you”.  Something.  Anything.  The “nothing” I was left with just seems so unsettling.

We had dinner with his parents who were in town.  We picked out wedding invitations.  He went to Houston for work.  We celebrated his nephew’s first birthday.  I shopped for bridesmaids dresses with the girls.  We went to Long Island for a friend’s wedding.  I spoke at a Columbia alumni networking event; he seemed proud.  We spent Mother’s Day with his family.  I met him at a wine bar for my friend’s 29th birthday.  I bought a wedding dress…that I would never wear.

This is not something I agonize about daily, ever really, however the emotional torture I’m putting myself through is inevitable as this final milestone comes to pass.  I want to be clear: this is not about my ex-fiancé, our once relationship or our broken engagement.   This is about me.  My perceptions; how I take in my environment; how I read those closest to me; how I possibly let this get past me.  I’ve written before about being shaken to the core; about not seeing the potential for this in the person I was closest to in the world.  There is a sheer terror that comes with realizing you didn’t understand your environment enough to recognize that you were falling asleep in the arms of someone who would betray you and become a total stranger.  I’m trying, in the shadow of this terrible anniversary, not to be afraid of my own judgment – clearly not my strongest quality – and to let go of this deep-seeded fear of trusting again.  Oddly enough, not trusting someone else, but trusting myself.  Trusting myself to trust again.  Someone said to me a few weeks ago that, at our age, we all bring some sort of baggage to the table in our relationships moving forward.  But really, what do you do when the baggage is, quite simply, everything you once knew to be true in a relationship that meant the world to you?  Does that imply that the baggage is ultimately…you?

In the interest of staying at sea level, this is it; the last milestone.  My year of “just getting through” is about to come full circle.  As of Tuesday, there’s nothing to which I won’t be able to say, “I’ve already survived this once”…

Cheers, America

23 May

It doesn’t matter which side of the political divide you’re on; this is kick-ass awesome no matter how you look at it.