Still passing the open windows and falling down the stairs

120:20:20

Because I have so much trouble remaining present in my healing, I am constantly looking for milestones to remind myself of the days, weeks, and months since the incident. Anything to put some space between now and then.

To that end, I decided I should add a countdown gadget to my iGoogle page to mark six months. The incident occured right around noon on October 9, 2011, so I have begun the count down to noon on April 9, 2012. As of eight minutes ago, that countdown read 120 days, 20 hours, and 20 minutes.

120 days. 20 hours. 20 minutes.

I want to be hopeful, but I have doubts about my ability to grow significantly in 120 days, 20 hours, and 20 minutes. I have doubts that I will feel any differently in 120 days, 20 hours, and 20 minutes than I feel at this moment.

Flat. Blank. Invisible. Not happy, not unhappy.

But I’m still looking forward to where I might be in 110 days, 10 hours, and 10 minutes.

No contact

It has been three weeks since my last contact with the Baron.

Sometimes I am amazed at my ability to not reach out when my mind is searching for him, desperately needing the comfort which he used to provide. But I’m not so sure that I am the one who is maintaining no contact.

The only contact he has initiated since the incident was one brief email sent immediately after we had to see each other to split our phone accounts.

And while I don’t want him back in my life, not in his current form, I have to (hate to) admit that I wish he would reach out to me.

It is devastating that at the end of every day without contact, I am left feeling that I meant very little to him. That after 2-1/2 years, he is content to no longer know me. I know that I cannot try to get inside his head, or I am living outside of my own. I just cannot wrap my brain around his ability to simply flip the switch.

I have been trying to fool myself into believing that I am being strong, when I think the reality is that I would be weak, if given the opportunity.

Quiet

Winter has settled into Minnesota and along with it, quiet.

The snow muffles the sound of the traffic. The sound of the neighbors. The sound of my sadness.

I have to dig deep everyday for motivation to heal.

Today I mustered up the strength to go to the fitness center. My intention was to do a quick walk on the treadmill before the ‘compassionate’ yoga class.

I was finally feeling strong enough to listen to the new Wilco album and got off to a good start. I set a good pace on a steep incline and let myself go, wrapped in the familiar voice that has always brought comfort.

Listening. Hearing. Every word of The Whole Love.

I came to my senses during the last song. I realized yoga was half over and I was crying in the middle of the gym.

After bolting to the locker room, I found myself sobbing in the parking lot, trying to remember where I had left my car. Grateful for the snow that was keeping my secret from passers by.

I’m nervous about the likelihood of crying at the concert on Wednesday, indoors without the safety of the snow.

No longer on the passenger side

In 2004, I purchased two tickets to see Wilco with the intent of introducing a favorite band to a favorite boy.

We broke up a month before the concert and I took a friend.

In 2009, I purchased two tickets to see Wilco with the intent of introducing a favorite band to a new favorite boy.

He left town for six weeks of training and I took a friend.

In 2011, I purchased two tickets to see Wilco with the intent of (finally) introducing a favorite band to the still favorite boy.

We broke up two months before the concert so I am taking a friend.

In the future, I will wait for a favorite boy to introduce me to his favorite band and I will keep Wilco all for myself.

What would you do if you were not afraid?

I just read the question above on a list of reminders for tough times.

This question haunts me.

I worry that I will regret the life I didn’t live because of my fear of being hurt or hurting others. Since I got sober 12 years ago, I’ve made (for the most part) the safe choices. I’ve been so scared of becoming the fuck up that I once was, that I don’t know how to NOT make the safe choices.

But, by all appearances, the Baron was a safe choice and I still took the sucker punch to the heart. Now I don’t know if I can even distinguish the safe choices from the risky ones. How can I make any major life decisions with that kind of self-doubt? How can I trust my instincts?

I recognize that I’m barely in the mental state to decide what to eat for lunch, so I’ve placed a “major life decisions” ban on myself until April. But as I think through some of those major life decisions that have been rolling around in my head, I am already terrified of making the wrong choices.

I would just prefer to have someone else make these decisions for me; a risk analyst to review the data and put me on the right path. I DON’T want to have to do it for myself. Not anymore.

So, please, someone…tell me how to find the balance between complete paralysis and just driving the car into the canyon?

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