I held my breath as his words came at me, in hopes that my lungs would start to panic and I would wake up from this nightmare I must be having. Of course this can’t be happening, I thought, it…just…can’t.
But, I never woke up. This wasn’t a bad dream.
In early May, T-Rex ended our relationship. Just three days after our anniversary and two days before I was going to officially move in to his home. A sweet spot of what should have been a joyous time of celebration in our journey together was plagued with delayed confessions, hurtful words, and tear stained faces.
I made the decision to continue the “Happy” theme month, trying to find the smallest amount of joy by escaping my reality. A cruel irony that I choose to write only about merriment, starting with T-Rex, and find myself here in this place of despair and unexplainable sorrow.
June will bring my grieving process. There are apparently seven stages that I must travel through in order to move forward. Each week I will be attempting to walk through them here, ending with a final good bye to the man I still love with so much depth and breadth that living without him and the life we created has left me stumbling over the simplest tasks.
I feel like I have been hit by a truck. I struggle to breathe. I am so fucking broken.