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Self-Imposed Insomniac

I know he’s awake right now, that’s what’s killing me.  He is a night owl, so I know he’s awake.  The question is, what is he doing right now?  Is he sitting at his desk by the window, listening to his favorite podcast? Learning some new drawing technique online, while sipping his coffee?  Is he playing that word game on his phone?  Is he chatting with his new girl? Or worse, is he loving up on her? THAT is what’s killing me. I go to bet at night and try to sleep and I know he is awake somewhere, doing something, and not thinking about me. That wouldn’t be so bad except all I do is think about him. 

I lay awake at night, a self-imposed insomniac, scrolling through my phone, watching t.v., whatever it takes to NOT think about him.  Really, it’s only good as long as the lights are on and my attention is elsewhere- once I try to close my eyes, the memories come in waves, washing over me, taking my breath away, reducing me to tears, and it’s all as fresh as if it were just yesterday. Flooding back, the sweet little nicknames we had for each other, the way he would make kissey faces at his phone when he had a picture of me, the way he loved when I wore my hair down and just wanted to touch it.  Flooding back, the time spent together shopping or running errands or sitting on the park bench talking for hours, best friends and lovers, I couldn’t wait to get off work and call him just to hear his voice.  Flooding back, the way his hand fit around mine, the way he touched my legs when I wore a dress, all the silly faces and the silly talk and the way he made me feel so special.  The beautiful wedding day we planned together, the promises we made in front of our friends and families not even two years ago. And flooding back, the painful truth of his infidelity and the heart break and the tears and the lies that came all out into the open. 

Even though I left him and am angry and hurt and will never have the answers, even though I would never go back to that place, I love him.  And with all that is left of my broken heart, I miss him.  I miss him coming into bed late at night, snuggling up to me in the night, snoring next to me.  I miss his laugh, his shouting at the t.v. while playing video games, making his coffee in the morning for him.  How long does it take to fall out of love with someone?  I wish someone could tell me that I will grieve this loss for exactly “X” number of days or weeks, and then the pain will be gone.  I would be ok with that because I could say, “OK, I have three weeks left, or 49 days left, or two months left of this pain and then I will feel better”.  But there is no number.  And when I think I am moving forward it comes out of nowhere, this pain that ambushes me, just because I cleaned out my desk drawer at work and came across a little love note he put in my lunch one day.

I hate the though that he didn’t really love me enough to think our marriage was worth the effort of being faithful, even though I know that’s exactly what happened.  I hate the thought that it was all a lie.  I cannot believe that.  I know that he loved me, at least for a time. And I do get angry sometimes, I know I deserve a love that is true, I deserve more than this pain.  I know that.  I wish that he was lying next to me, though, face to face with the night-time pillow talk of our day and our dreams and our plans for the future.  To feel his arms around me again, telling me these last few months was just a bad dream, that everything is fine.  And because I don’t have that, what is the point in trying to sleep?  He is not in the next room listening to his favorite podcast at his desk or learning a new drawing technique, he will not be coming to bed, snuggling up next to me and snoring until dawn, and I will never make his morning coffee again.  So what’s the point of lying here in this bed missing and wishing? I guess I’ll just keep scrolling….

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