Beginning of the End

I have a slightly obsessive personality. By this, I don't mean I actively stalk people, nor have I ever been medically diagnosed. I use the term "obsessive personality" loosely, and it isn't meant to offend or down play those who have been diagnosed by their physicians. 

By obsessive personality, I mean, I overthink, and over-analyze everything. Every. Thing. 

While I did not spend any more time crying over Steven, I did spend time wondering what I'd done; how he could have so easily left me without hesitation. One day, Steven and I are planning our future, and making plans for me to take time off this summer to spend a week with him out west, and the next: he's not happy. And I mean this literally. Literally, from one day to the next. 

The day before he broke up with me, Steven had asked that I request a week off of Summer Camp, so that I could spend more than 24 hours with him at a time. I'd teased him about that last line. It seemed like after our first date, which lasted about 4 hours, less than 24 hour dates had become our thing.

*****

Date 2: 

Steven and I have been "in a relationship" for a month. The week of Valentine's Day he'd promised to come visit, even though, "now really isn't the best time". He's so charming, isn't he?

I had to work the Friday he planned to come into town, because my co-worker and I were hosting a Valentine's Day dinner for our students. I invited Steven to come by, eat, and spend time with me while I worked, and then we could spend time together. Just the two of us. Valentine's Day was Saturday, anyway, and I'd already set aside that day to spend it's entirety with him.

8: 48 pm 

The Friday "Family Valentine's Dinner" is nearly over and Steven still hasn't dropped in. I begin to worry, and, finally, get a chance to check my phone.

7:32 pm 

I'm taking a nap in the HEB parking lot. Let me know when you're finished. Love you.

What?! I've been waiting for him this whole time, and he's taking a nap!? 

8:50 pm 

So... you aren't coming to the Valentine's dinner?

8:55 p.m.

I didn't know you wanted me to come by. What's the address?

At the risk of causing a fight, I text back the address and he shows up a half hour later. He hangs out in the lobby, while Kat and I finish cleaning up and saying good-bye to the families, thanking them for coming.

Steven follows me home, and we hang out in the street. Under the stars. Very romantic, I know. 

Then, he gets overwhelmingly tired, and sits in his truck while I stand outside his door, trying to make plans for tomorrow. 

Steven decides he should head home. He just bought a bunch of new tile "for our place", and should "really head home and get to work". 

Half an hour, and a mini-spat later, Steven heads out of town, and I'm left with no plans for Valentine's Day.

Date 2: Less than 24 hours. 

*****

Now that I've spent the last week replaying our conversations and our interactions, I think about this night and pick apart every. piece. 

Looking back on that night, I can't help but laugh. This is the night everything changed. This was the beginning of the end. 

The Purge

I spent the next 3 days crying. Nonstop. The day after, I couldn't even make it through my work day without falling apart. Do you know how hard it is to work with 5 years old and keep your tears in check? 

Thankfully, I had an intern in my room, who had quickly become a good friend of mine, and, thus, knew what was happening. 

She took over as soon as our lunch breaks had ended. 

She was my saving grace that day, and I am eternally grateful.

My car rides home were a similar scenario, but ions more freeing: guttural sobs that shook my body and impaired my vision. The car rides home, unlike my work day, were accompanied by "3Oh!3"'s album: maxed out volume and enough swear words to cleanse every ache in my heart.

One of the hardest parts of my day, was having to come home. I spend a lot of my day with my parents and three brothers, but on days were baseball practice wasn't scheduled, and orchestra concerts weren't in occurrence, I had a lot of time: to think. 

I went over every possible scenario that I could think of: replaying our last conversations, looking for some sign, some clue. What had I done wrong? What about me made me so easy to dismiss? Why hadn't I seen it coming? 

I did my best to keep it together while I was around my family. They knew Steven had left me, but I didn't want them to know how badly I felt about it. "Put on a happy face", as they say. 

Seeing the pain in my eyes, my mom hugged me: a rare event in my house. And I bawled. I clung to her like an infant seeking comfort, and I just let it all out. By the time, I pulled away, my face was tear stricken and all the tears I had been holding in that evening had escaped by body. 

I could see my pain reflected back at me in my mother's eyes. The pain a mother feels when her own child is suffering is beyond my empathy, for I am not a mother myself, but I knew my tears were causing some of her own.

Day 3 I decided that enough was enough. This was the last day I was going to spend crying, aching, and pleading with my heart to cease its barrage upon itself. This was the last day, I was going to ride home with blurred vision, endangering myself and others on the road.

I stayed true to my word. I sobbed on the way home, periodically, reminding myself that this was the last time. To get it all out. THIS is your last chance to purge.