There is Not Enough Water-proof Mascara

WARNING:  Extremely raw post to follow!

There is not enough water-proof mascara in the world to withstand the repeat tsunamis of tears I have cried in the past 10 days over my breakup with G.  Even when you know the decision is right and a thing must be done, it can still be gut-wrenchingly, bone-achingly heart-breaking. 

Each day is a struggle of wills, a struggle between what I emotionally have the energy to do versus what I know I ought to do or what I have to do to meet my obligations to others.  Staying in bed until 2pm staring at the wall seemed perfectly reasonable on Friday, the day after Thanksgiving, so I did.  

I go throughout the day willing myself not to cry, not to think of G or what I miss about him or what I miss about the relationship or anything else that will make me cry.  Well-meaning friends let me know that they're "here" and willing to listen if I want to talk about it, but honestly, the last thing I want to do is rehash and relive those painful, awkward, excruciating moments when I told G I couldn't do this anymore and we said our final goodbyes.  Sometimes talk therapy is in-order.  Other times, it should not be attempted, because talking about it only serves to trigger another tidal wave of emotion that rips through my chest and cascades down my cheeks.  Please, don't ask me to talk about it.  Don't say you're "here" if I "want to talk" because then I'll feel obligated to talk about it just to put your mind at ease that you're being a good friend. Gratefully, I know you're there and I'll tell you if I want to discuss it. 

I think my eyes will be puffy until the new year.

G, being a man, has already begun moving on, reactivating his profile on the online dating site where we met before the lid had even been closed on the casket of our relationship.  My sister says I shouldn't judge him negatively for that, that men start compartmentalizing and emotionally moving on the moment they hear the words "break up," even if the break-up hasn't yet happened or been finalized.  Maybe she's right, but that doesn't lessen the hurt of it, and the shock of discovery, and the feeling (correct or incorrect) that I must have meant very little to him if he's able to put himself out there again so quickly.  Meanwhile, I'm crying torrents because I miss him and worrying whether he's alright.  I did put my profile up again too, a couple of days ago, but my heart wasn't in it and I took it down again tonight.

When the tears finally stop, they're replaced by numbness and a hollow, achy feeling in the gut and a tightness in the throat.  I feel that any minute the levy could burst but I'm bravely keeping it under control for now, save the odd outburst when I'm getting ready in the morning or happen to come across something that reminds me of G.  Sometimes, when I feel my eyes prickle in public, I just have to tell myself to "be cool" so I can keep my cool until I'm alone and can lose it without anyone around to see.

Tomorrow I have to go to work and face my unbearably cheerful office-mate and make small talk about the holiday weekend.  I'll put on my game face and be glad in the end that I left the house and made the effort, but oh boy will I ever be grateful to come home and kick off that game face along with my shoes and watch Dancing With the Stars with no expectations of talking about anything meaningful.

I know I will survive.  I know time heals.  I know there are other fish in the sea.  (But please don't tell me I'm going to meet "the one" when I least expect it!)  I know every relationship is a valuable learning experience.  However, none of that is really consolation to a broken heart in the moment when it is acutely broken.  In time I will gain perspective, but for now, I'm going to embrace this pain and this ache and the tender pieces of my heart, and avoid mascara altogether.