Found It

This past weekend, I somehow mustered up the strength I'd been needing. I told Luke to move out.

It pretty much hit me on Friday evening. Just like that. I was ready for him to be completely out of my life. I felt strong, relieved, and liberated... like someone had simply smacked me across the face and awakened me. And it felt fantastic.

However, lets rewind, since I haven't written in awhile.

I went on a mini-road trip to Gainesville with Robin and Jolyon last weekend. We had planned to visit James at the University of Florida. The drive wasn't bad-- we sang along to some broadway musical soundtracks (RENT and Hairspray being the main focus) and stopped for some much-needed coffee at a Dunkin Donuts in the middle of nowhere.

James had let his hair grow out, since he was no longer restricted to the "Disney Look." We also met one of his roommates, though it was a brief encounter-- he pretty much passed through the living room, said hi, tossed the TV remote at my chest, and left the apartment. We probably walked a good 5-6 miles that day. We explored the campus, as well as "downtown" Gainesville.

Highlights of the day included:
~Cheap bean burritos.
~Skull and cross-bone signs that read, "All cars illegally parked will be towed, dismantled, and sold for parts."
~Wandering into a cute, used bookstore... after which James akwardly commented something to the effect of, "Uh, thanks for taking us into the lesbian library."
~Getting smoothies from cute older woman who claimed, with an accent I couldn't place, "I have been making smoothies for 8 years and have never been to the doctor."
~Watching a partial sunset in the UF football stadium.
~Poorly designed mini-golf course, which I blame for my high score.
~Eggplant parmesan pizza (despite burning the roof of my mouth).

Now, back to this past Friday, in which I left a voicemail for Luke, telling him that I wanted him to move out. I'm tired of coming home at night, wondering if he has been there, or if he's coming back when he gets off work at 1130pm. I'm tired of checking the mail and having most of it be police and hunting magazines for him. I want to be able to hang out in the living room again, but I feel like I can't do that, because he still has stuff there that remind me of 'us.' Even though I'm over the 'us' aspect, I really want to cleanse the rest of the apartment, like I did to our (my) bedroom. I want to re-decorate, rearrange the furniture, and I want to paint a few accent walls. And I can't do any of that until he is physically moved out. He told me when he broke up with me that I could keep the apartment, and now I'm ready for him to keep his word. More on his response in a bit...

Saturday, we (Robin, Jolyon, myself, and Robin's brother, Randy) ventured to the Plant City Strawberry Festival. It was your typical country fair: creaky carnival rides, junky fair food, and sketchy carni folk. At least this time Robin and I didn't get trapped on one of the rides. I really wanted to stay for the MercyMe concert that night, but a lingering headache transformed into a full-blown migraine. I really thought I was going to get sick in the car on the way back to Jolyon's house. I passed out in his bed for awhile to let the medicine kick in, but still felt out-of-sorts as the night progressed.

Luke sent me a text messsage Monday morning while I was at work. He apologized for not getting back to me over the weekend... said he had a busy weekend because his friend, Amanda, was in town. More feelings of irritation washed over me... he always had an excuse for not doing something for me, or not getting back to me. His text also said that he didn't have a place yet, but would find one asap. That wasn't good enough for me. Not anymore. I went outside and called him.

It was weird to hear his voice. I started out by saying that I thought he already had a place to live, since he hasn't spent a night at the apartment in almost a month. I told him that I was ready to move on, and that he needed to move out, and that I wanted to be there when he did, in the event that we needed to have a "that's mine, this is yours" type of discussion. I told him that I wanted him out on the 15/16th of this month, and that if he didn't have a place by then, he can put his stuff in a storage unit, and continue living wherever he's been living for the past month. I told him that I didn't want to be cruel about the situation, but he offfered the day of the breakup to move out. I had mixed emotions while talking to him, and was shaking when I hung up the phone.

I had difficulty focusing the rest of the day. And then my day was cut short when my computer crashed. Literally. The tower fell over. I may not have a replacement until I come back from vacation next week, and who knows how much they can recover off my hard drive.

And today, I had to take a sick day, which was pretty much the last thing I needed, considering my deadlines at work. It started last night. I played tennis (badly) with Jess and Jolyon, and then we went to Alan's apartment for dinner with Katy and Robin. It felt like my ab muscles were tensing up... and, believe me, my abs are not what they used to be. I thought maybe I had pulled something, but shrugged it off, since I didn't want to miss out on the softball game.

Unfortunately, the pain increased, and I had to ask Chad to take me out of the game. I was pretty upset, especially since I was playing a position (second base) that I actually like, but I tried not to show it... just told Chad, "Sorry, but you need to take me out." I hate that I couldn''t play, though. I always try to tough it out. In highschool, I finished half a week of goalkeeper training camp with a broken wrist. I played in a floor hockey game in college with a broken toe. And I played in many, many soccer games when my asthma tried to keep me on the bench.

I started to worry when I realized that the pain I was feeling was pretty similar to the pain I experienced a year ago, when my kidney blew up. My abs were swollen and I was starting to get scared... more so because I didn't want to spend the night waiting in the ER... plus, I had given Jolyon a ride to the game, so he was going to be stranded with me. And then I began thinking about my work deadlines and my crashed computer. I started replaying my earlier phone conversation I'd had with Luke. I thought about a friend's personal problems and started blaming myself for not being there for her. I remembered that I still had "homework" to do for therapy, that I still had to pack to fly back to MA on Thursday, that I needed to terminate our bank account..... all while sitting on the softball bench, hunched over. Sometimes I can't control my obsessive worrying, something I know I need to work on. I'm trying.

Jolyon drove my car while I tried to get comfortable in the passenger seat. He wanted to take me to the ER, as recommended by several of my teammates, but I just wanted to go home. By this point, I was pretty sure it was stress-induced... the past month my body has taken all that it can-- between not sleeping enough, not eating properly, over-exercising... I even skipped my freakin' monthly vistor last week, and I'm on the pill-- it's been absolute clockwork for 7 years, so that was mind-blowing (and, trust me, I'm not pregnant.)

When we got to my apartment, Jolyon told me that he would take care of everything, and that I just needed to get into the bathtub, and that he would stay with me in case I needed to go to the hospital. I started to protest, because he didn't have his car or a change of clothes for work, so how was he going to get to work, or get home (all irrational thoughts, at this point)... and he told me again not to worry about it. I ran myself a bath, and once I got in, I started crying, which physically hurt, thanks to the mysterious pain. I remembered that my therapist had told me to just let myself cry whenever I felt the urge.

I cried for a good five minutes. I cried because I had actually found the strength to tell Luke to move out. I cried because my sister took a step back and I wasn't there for her when she needed me. I cried because my work has been suffering and now I had just lost a bunch of important emails and files due to my own clumsiness. I cried because I allowed my disease to regain control. And I cried because I realized that I have so many people who care about me, who will go out of their way for me. It was a variety of tears-- relief, pure sorrow, exhaustion, and happiness.

And then I stopped crying. Despite my abdomen, I felt oddly relaxed.

I realized that I had found the strength to tell people what I want. I'm learning that I don't always have to be the tough one, on and off the field, and that it's ok to let someone else do the worrying.

And it's always ok to cry.