Extravagater Extraordinaire

I think its safe to say I’ve fallen off the wagon.

I packed up my whole apartment yesterday.  I’m still here though, sitting in my darkened former-home.  I spent most of today drawing a self portrait, but I haven’t showered.  I opened a beer in the car today, while driving.  I didn’t drink any, I just let it sit, cold, between my legs.  I’m not trying to be irresponsible, and I’m no threat to anyone else, I’m just saying if the powers that be ever felt like bringing back drinking and driving, I’d be happy to abide by that law responsibly.

I have one more week here, which I’ll spend cleaning, drawing, listening to music loudly.   I ate today, four shitty, grocery store, chocolate chip cookies-which is a plus only because it means I actually ate.  I’ve lost 15 lbs since my Amazingly-Significant-Other felt it necessary to dump me four weeks ago (tired of hearing about that yet?), over the phone, after three years.  I always thought “fat and happy” was just a saying from the middle ages, meaning that rich people were pumped about having food.  Now, I know it means that you only feel like eating when life is good.  When it sucks, you lose weight and look like shit on the reg.  That’s fair though, life isn’t.

My pockets are full of cigarette butts and rocks.  I’m seriously contemplating alienating everyone I know so I can take myself out without feeling guilty.

I was moving a pallet I’d used to support some wood I’d painted for our new recycling center.  I stood it against a wall outside, while the smokers watched.  I heard gravel scrape the wood as it gave way.  Then there was a pop, and a sharp pain, and I smiled and hopped on one foot, back to the smokers.  I stood for a minute, laughed about how I’d seen it coming.  Then I climbed the stairs back up to the office.  Then I promptly broke into a cold sweat and felt ill.

I made it to the bathroom before my whole body let go, expressing it’s distaste at the rush of adrenaline, and decided lack of calories.  I’ll admit that I haven’t been eating much.  My lips went as white as my face, and my mouth tasted like clay, then I vomited, and passed out.

I think this is proof that physical pain is just as harsh, if not more so, than emotional pain.  I had the same reaction to breaking my toe, as I did to losing my amazingly-significant-other.  Except, the toe doesn’t hurt when I don’t move it, if I keep my weight off it.  I can’t keep the weight the breakup has imposed off my mind, or my heart.

It occurred to me that if I continue in this way, not eating enough, not sleeping enough, then small shocks, like a broken toe, may be able to do me significant damage.  I’m entertaining the idea of allowing it.  That’s probably dramatic and childish, but it’s less dangerous than entertaining the notion that he might come back, isn’t it?

Anyone who reads this will think it’s the musings of some heartsick moron, and they’re not wrong.  I am a heartsick moron, maybe I always have been, and that’s why I deserve this.  That’s not what if feels like inside though, it feels like the person that I thought I could trust, who said he would always love me, just ripped my future away.

The Friday before last, my amazingly-significant-other told me he was having second thoughts about us.  The following Monday, he told me he didn’t love me anymore.  Today marks the first week that we’ve been separated, and I still haven’t heard from him.  I’ve seen him once, he drove past me just as I was about to turn onto my street.  I drive a lime green VW bug, I’m pretty hard to miss, and he physically turned away from me in his seat.

I thought he really loved me.  We were planning on moving in together this year, and I really believed we were going to be together always.  I’ve never felt like this before.  I’ve been dumped before, and it’s hurt, but never like this.  I feel like I’ve lost my future, and that the past three years has been a lie.  There’s a part of me that won’t accept it, that keeps hoping maybe he’ll come back, and no matter how many times I tell myself off for thinking that way, I can’t stop it.

I know I should be furious that he lied to me, or that he dumped me over the phone.  I’m trying to be, and sometimes I manage a half-hearted twinge of anger, but it falters, and dies in it’s tracks before it does me any good.  The truth is I’ve never missed someone so much in my entire life, and I would give anything to have him back, even if that’s pathetic, or crazy.

I can cope when it’s light out, and there are things to do, and people around- distractions are key.  I wake up in the morning, and shower, and put on makeup, because my friend Brandy told me that I should always ‘look like a million bucks’, just in case I run into him.  It wouldn’t be hard, he lives less than half a mile away.

It’s when I’m alone, especially at night, that it hits me.  My love, my amazingly-significant-other, whom I’ve spent the best years I’ve ever had with, who shared so many incredible experiences with me, doesn’t love me anymore.  I don’t get to touch him anymore, or go to sleep next to him, or listen to him play guitar.  He’ll never look at me softly again, or kiss me, and I’ll never get to do anything for him again.  Not massage his back, or make him dinner, or take care of him when he’s sick.

I know, “it’ll get easier”, and “everything happens for a reason”.  ”I’ll get over it”, and “I’m better off without him”.  It doesn’t feel like that though.  Right now, the only man I’ve ever really loved, doesn’t love me, and there’s not a thing I can do about it, except try to give him space, per his request, and attempt to fall asleep before the sun goes down, and I’m alone in the dark again.

Unless you don’t do it in person.  Unless you unceremoniously call your significant other at 7:30 on a Monday morning, and tell them that even though you told them you loved them only the preceding Thursday, and had told them you would always love them and nothing would change that on the Sunday prior, you no longer love them, then refuse to take their calls, or see them…Then I guess breaking up isn’t so hard…That’s what my amazingly-significant-other did, anyway…

I’ve been away working on another blog, for a legit SEO business that I started-SEO for the Prudent & Frugal. I’ve also decided to apply to law school, which I hope SPF will help me afford. I’m at my present job right now, and I just have to say that I really do hate it, and the vast majority of my lazy, socially inept co-workers. I know that’s super negative, and this next bit is going to be a touch on the dramatic side, but I just want a job that makes me think about killing myself less before I’ve had my first cup of coffee. I’m not asking for perfection, I just want to feel less suicidal prior to being properly caffeinated.

Like a sad puppy forgotten in the rain, or a middle child, my poor blog has been ignored, and for that I am truly sorry.  Since New Years I’ve been incredibly busy.  I wrote a children’s book and sent it two two publishers, who regretfully declined to represent me.  Not terribly surprising as my children’s book was meant to be used for teaching young children about death in an ecology-based way.  Never mind, I’ll publish it online myself once the illustrations are done.

I’m also working on an incredible idea to draw the public eye, in Seacoast New Hampshire at least, to the atrocities of industrial agriculture, the importance of supporting local agriculture, and the necessary reduction of our collective carbon footprint- all through the magic of cheese!  It’s 1AM, I’m going to have to explain later.

I’m also back on track in pursuit of my SEO goals.  I’ve restarted (there was a definite five-month lapse there, unfortunate but necessary) my professional blog, jamiebradley.com, and published a craigslist ad for my services titled, SEO for the fiscally prudent.

That’s it for now, as I plan to be up at 6AM tomorrow, and it’s now 1:30.  I missed you a great deal, and am so thrilled that we’re together again!

Earlier this evening I posted that my amazingly-significant-other was considering getting a dog with me.  What I should have said was I badgered him into saying that, because he felt it was the only way he could stop the constant whine.  Apparently, the “dog, dog, dog” voice is not entirely internal.  We will not be getting a dog.  However, if you can, and you want to, and you have the means to do so, you should get a dog.  Dogs are wonderful, and they’re man-made (so people are responsible for them), and everyone deserves a home.

So, it looks like the Maya didn’t have anything dire in mind when they stopped making calendars, and that’s good enough for me.  Yesterday was pretty great, the ocean looked amazing due to a 50mph winds, there was a huge double rainbow, and we had a spectacular End of the World party with good friends- mission accomplished.

Then, today, my amazingly-significant-other told me that he would consider getting a dog with me-incredible!!  I have three voices in the back of my head: the one that tells me I’m not good enough (which I’ve kept in check fairly well recently), the one that screams shrilly at me about how unstable my financial situation is, and how none of my career endeavors are lucrative (it has a fair point), and the last one just chants “dog” on repeat.  Going to dinner with friends now, more later.