Day (I had to do the math) 39
I lost track of what day I’m on, and for this I’m glad. I’m at a turning point in this whole break-up thing – finally.
I was going to give up on the blogging completely, actually. I was hoping I could quietly move on without anyone noticing, not even me. I was hoping to heal and be fine and forget all about him.
Well, I’m close, but I’m not there yet.
I started reading a memoir called I’m Not the New Me by Wendy McClure, about a woman’s weight-loss journey. (It’s hilarious.) Toward the beginning of her journey she decides to chronicle everything on a website – this was before blogs were cool. So she does, and she has followers, and she meets a guy through a fan of hers, and life starts looking better.
I’m sure there will be some sort of fall out before the end of the book, but we’re not there yet. I’m assuming all is well for Wendy here on out.
I want the same for me. I like this book because it parallels my own experiences. There’s a lot of misery and temptation that coexist with life-changing journeys. Plus, Wendy starts dating a man named Nathan who, like “my” Nathan, has a queer sense of humor. Geez.
My journey wasn’t planned the way Wendy’s was. I didn’t say, “Oh, it’s time to stop loving Nathan and find a new love/life for myself.” No, it started when he said, “I’m not happy. We need to break up.”
But I’m on a journey, nevertheless. I shouldn’t have pretended it was over when it is not. The journey will be over when I’m with someone else, at peace.
I long for that day. But until then, I’ll do what Wendy did: I’ll take strides toward the end-point, and I’ll write about it.
What else can I do?
—
Wendy on one of her website “fans” who may or may not decide to stalk her:
I say this but later it does occur to me that this Jenny person could keep emailing me. Or if not her, then someone else, someone who might be more verifiably creepy. A person who maybe doesn’t leave the house enough and who stays in chain-smoking and auctioning crumpled shirts and old extension cords on eBay. I mean I always wonder about the people who do stuff like that, and maybe one of them reads me. Maybe she bids on things that remind her of me. Maybe she is making a collage about me. Someone could just do that: make a collage and ccan it an demail it to me, and nobody could stop her.
As it turns out, Jenny doesn’t write back, and I’m vaguely disappointed.
Wendy has a Donald Miller-esque quality about her writing. I love it.
-Laur
December 18, 2011