Three more steps

Not this year

Not this year, delicious ribs (source)

This week’s chilly, rainy weather has mirrored my mental state for the last several days a little bit, and it’s been a drag because I can’t even take my bike out to get my mind off things. This past weekend was great because even though I was deeply, deeply depressed, the weather kept me outdoors and friends kept me distracted.

I needed distracted, because Rib Fest 2014 was in full swing near my house and three years ago Kevin and I went to Rib Fest 2011 for our first date. We went every year after, and saved two tickets from each event as our own small tradition. Going to Rib Fest for a first date always seemed to make for a cute story, but now it’s just embarrassing that a neighborhood-organized public rib-eating contest can cause me such turmoil and mental anguish.

Last weekend would have been our fourth Rib Fest, because today would have been our third anniversary — had we not agreed we were probably never going to see eye-to-eye on a future together and instead decided to pack it all in.

It’s infuriating and sad that after five months, I still feel this rotten about the whole thing and I don’t even understand why. I’ve very slowly moved along in the stages of grief, on a much smaller pain level of course, and have now gone from denial to anger. According to the internet, I’ve got three more steps to go before I can be a person again.

I don’t know, maybe two-and-a-half. Sometimes I feel like I veer slightly into bargaining territory.

I’m definitely mad, though. I’m mad that he doesn’t feel the horrible way I feel. I’m mad I have to give up the awesome apartment we picked together and go live with someone I don’t know instead of marry my live-in boyfriend. I’m mad about fights we had years ago and I’m mad that I can’t pick up the pieces and get it together. I’m mad at him, I’m mad at me, I’m mad at people I don’t know on the street who have the nerve to look kind of happy together. I am mad all the time this week, and while it’s kind of exhausting, it’s also strangely empowering.

I can’t let it go, I feel like it’s helping. Nothing helps, but this maybe helps a tiny little bit. I’m just gonna run with it.

I know this for sure: I deserve to be with someone who cares enough about our relationship to be willing to plan a future around it, and not just string me along, hoping I change my mind about what I want.

My friend Jaimi has offered to make up some fun, surprise plans for tonight, and I am very, very thankful for her willingness to do so. I need kept out of my apartment, at least. There’s too much to feel crappy about there, and part of me is relieved I will be leaving it for good soon.