There are 1,025,109.8 words, by estimation, in the English language. And yet I don’t have the word for how I’m feeling. It’s not jealousy. It’s not disappointment… not really. It’s not sadness or anger, both of which are too basic a description for what I feel about this new bit of news.
M is getting remarried.
To the woman we broke up over.
Heartbroken doesn’t work. I don’t miss our relationship in the slightest. Stunned, definitely. When he told me I went quiet and stumbled to continue the conversation… which he couched in a text as, “We need to talk about the Fall”. Not, “I have some Earth shattering news to tell you which will make you feel super weird and uncomfortable and inadequate all at once”.
I mean, what do you even say to that? Certainly not congratulations; I’m not happy for them. I mean, in truth, they deserve each other. I’m not gonna smear her on the internet (she takes better care of my girls than their father, sometimes), but trust me, they deserve each other.
Inadequate. That’s a good word. I wrote earlier about missing love. I’ve opened myself up to a relationship as best one can when they’re stuck at home in the 21st century during the age of online dating.
Inadequate. With a mix of anger, sadness, disappointment, and fear.
Yeah, fear is in there. Fear that he’s going to go off and have this lovely life with his lovely… whatever. Fear that I’m being cosmically punished for having the balls to get out of a toxic relationship and become my own person. Fear that while he’s getting everything he’s ever wanted in life (job, kids, wife, home…) that I’m the one losing; with my crap car, being constantly broke, stuck in a job I only barely condescend to care about, when I want to travel to a different country doing anything else, with someone I love and can share everything with.
Don’t get me wrong… my current life is hands and feet better than I was two years ago; being constantly harassed by this same person who is now ridiculously happy in their world. But basically I went from rock bottom to climbing out of the canyon during a rainstorm at night, and now I’m blindly wandering around trying to find shelter.
I’m good at metaphors. I’m not good at feeling like I’m losing something, even if there is no competition. I’m not good at handling unfair scenarios. And I’m not good at sitting alone with my thoughts at night… they’re toxic. Good thing Supernatural is gonna be on in a few. It’ll take my mind off of my self pity fear fest.