G is for Google

I used to Google his name all of the time. I would search in and out of quotation marks, with or without Ex’s first name – which he didn’t use, except for business matters – and even Google his standard user name. You would be amazed at how much you can learn about someone’s life just by searching for their email address.

                     

I’m not proud. Not only did I over-use Google, but I used to drive by his house in the middle of the night, too. I wanted to be sure Ex would be home and asleep. I didn’t want to get caught stalking him, you know. If he wasn’t asleep, he may be looking out the window and see my car, which I had before I even met him. If Ex wasn’t home, I would freak out. What if he came driving down the street and saw me? Worse, where was he in the middle of the night? At some girl’s house?

The one stalker-ish thing I managed not to do was call him. I didn’t really want to talk to Ex. I didn’t want to hear his voice. I didn’t want to deal with that. Okay, those are all lies. The only reason I didn’t call him is because he would know I was calling him. Even if I used a pay phone and was completely silent, Ex knows me well enough to know that hang-ups are something I would do. He is my hang-up.

                          

Stalking is now a thing of my past. I still want to. I still want to drive by, still want to Google his name, still want to know where he is and what he is doing and who he is doing it with. Ex and I haven’t been together for twenty-three months. We have been divorced for seventeen months. It still hurts, but, shockingly, the pain is lessening. I never thought it would.

F is for Fiction

1)      He told me I was a coward

·        Yes, I did run when a tiny bird at the zoo started chasing me. Yes, I was afraid of it. But being a coward means being too afraid to do things. If I was really a coward, I would not have gone into the walk-in aviary in the first place. Sure, I’m afraid of things, but I do them anyway. That makes me brave, not a coward.

 

2)      He told me I didn’t love him

·        He could not have been more wrong. I will love him forever even though I know I cannot be with him. Being together would not be good for me but it would be worse for him. My therapist said Ex would hate himself even more for treating me badly but he wouldn’t stop, so his self-hatred would grow. I loved him enough to let him go.

3)      He told me he loved me

·        It is true that you have to love yourself before you can love someone else. He is not capable of love. Everything he did was the opposite of love. You don’t treat someone you love the way he treated me. He did not love me.

 

4)      He told me I wasn’t funny

·        Whatever. I’m freakin’ hilarious.

5)      He told me that I had no friends and everyone hated me

·        True, but only if we were talking about Ex instead of me. I have tons of friends, but he has none. I do feel sorry for him about that, but if he would stop being rude to everyone and thinking the being mean was funny, maybe people would like him. Turns out he doesn’t have even one friend anywhere.

E is for Eating

Perhaps a more appropriate title would be “E is for Eating Disorders”.

            Right after I left Ex, I lost eighteen pounds in about one month. I don’t know if my sudden increase in alcohol consumption had anything to do with it or if it was just the depression, but for a long time, I had absolutely no appetite. I would start eating a banana and it would literally take me at least five hours to choke it down, one little nibble at a time. I was just not able to ingest anything.

                               

People commented on my weight loss and expressed concern. I told them all I was fine even though I wasn’t. My clothes fell off of me and I had to start wearing layers. I loved seeing my ribs and having no creases in my stomach when I bent over. It was great. I felt totally in command of myself, but at the same time, felt completely out of control. I liked being skinny but I knew I was too thin. It was a difficult combination.

            Then things switched and I suddenly became hungry. I started eating everything I could get my hands on. I would eat until I felt as if I would burst. I ate mostly junk food. I started to gain weight, which caused me to freak out; I knew something had to change, and fast. I stuffed my face for several months until I was finally full – I stopped eating again.

                                

            I have stabilized at a certain weight and am trying very hard not to care that I no longer weigh 100 pounds. Logically, I know I am at a good weight for me, but inside I am screaming “You’re fat!” Ex liked me rounder and so when I was married, being this weight did not bother me. It made me curvier and I felt more feminine. Now I just feel fat and sloppy. My clothes aren’t fitting as well as I would like, meaning they actually fit me instead of falling off like they used to. I feel too soft.

            Today I ate five almonds, one string cheese stick, and a bowl of Cheerios...