Good morning moist muffins.
It's been two and a half months since everything changed. Two and a half months. It feels like I have been going through this much longer than that...but I guess if you figure in the ENTIRE stretch of discourse, it has been closer to a year.
A year is a long time.
Two and a half month is an eternity in moments measured in heartbreak.
There are some amazing things happening in my life. I am officially a homeowner! I am in love with my house. It's much like me. A little older, needs some work and curb appeal, full of character and perfect for entertaining. And as you may have seen on social media, I have the most AMAZING group of friends that have helped me accomplish more in the last 3 weeks with the house than most people do in three months.
There were multiple slumber parties to paint.
Moving day and putting contact paper down in the kitchen.
Fixing things I broke.
Getting rid of cockroaches
Made time for a little Dirty Dancing.
Got a fence installed in the backyard.
Because I am shattered. And I am so tired. So tired. The nightmares had stopped for a few weeks and I was sleeping a little again. But ever since I moved into the house, the nightmares have returned. I dream about them together and wake up confused. Sometimes I wake up unable to catch my breath. And once I do I just lay there...trying to make sense of what is real. Trying to make sense of their actions or choices. But I can't. I have given up on going to bed at a reasonable time. What's the point? So I just try and stay up being productive. Painting or cleaning or organizing.
I spent a lot of last week angry. Angry at both of them. For Heather lying to me and not being the person she promised. For not having enough balls to end us before starting them. For deceiving me months and months while making me feel like I was crazy. Mad at Gina for all of her deceit. How can someone do that to their friend? How does she sleep at night? How does she justify what she has done? How do people live with themselves knowing that have broken good people?
I don't understand any of it.
I cry a lot. It can come out of nowhere. On the way home from the grocery store. On the way to work. Walking in my house.
Heartbreak is like a rollercoaster. One moment I will be full of hope...the next moment...I don't know how I am going to make it.
When does it get better? Why did they do it? How is this real? Why can't I just be "over it"?
These are the questions that just.won't.stop.
I do a lot of reading and have started journaling again. My heart still wants to believe that there is hope for her. One of my friends text me the other night and said, "Do you realize when people talk ill of Heather you cringe? Which makes you a good person. And the fact that she won't leave you alone makes her a bad one."