The Breakup cont'd

Six years come and gone. Six years of my life spent with the same man, trying to "make it all better." Six years ignoring the bullshit and hoping for a better tomorrow. Six years wasted.

Then there's Oli's way of looking at it, or as she told me, "Better six years than seven."

I am blessed with a wonderful family. I'm not tearing up now for the loss of a boyfriend, but for the way my parents, sister and friends really pulled together and became my comfort zone. I can be all Wonder Woman about it now, but the fact is that yesterday when it was still fresh, I crumbled, and needed help standing on my own two feet.

After working for ten hours and looking forward to some chill time, Oli made a U-turn on the highway when she picked up the tearful message from her kid sister. I wasn't intending to tell my parents until moms came downstairs and I was crying so hard I couldn't turn to face her. Dad, who has Parkinson's Disease and can barely walk on a good day, shuffled down to my basement so he could kiss me on the forehead, and let me lean up against him to sob for a little while. Corey, my future (still not official) brother-in-law sent me a text message that read, "Sorry about what has happened, but you deserve someone who will treat you with respect. Hang in there."

Bluetooth, my four-legged sunshine, licked all the tears from my cheeks and brought me his toy frog. Pinky sent me an e-card with a phoner date, and Janey stayed up to talk. Alfred congratulated me on the removal of my 195lb tumour and let me bitch all I wanted to, even though it was his birthday. Kahuna, my surfer friend who is going through his own personal relationship hell that make mine look like candy, listened to my ranting and declared me his honorary valentine. James baked me a batch of cookies shaped like broken hearts, and Raj consoled me in the way that only Raj can. "Don't worry, honey. Now you can fuck around in Jordan."

Moms said it was for the best, and I deserved better. Dad told me they were bloody lessons to learn, but I'd learned them and that things would be okay from now on. He reminded me that everyone was behind me all the way, and I would never have to worry.

Oli did what sisters do best. She listened, let me wallow, and built me up again. She didn't remind me of it but I knew we were both thinking of the same day, five years ago, when she walked into the apartment we shared with arms full of bags and engagement ring gone. She'd just broken up with her fiance, and was a mess too. I hugged her and didn't let it show how relieved I was, or that in my head was my own Munchkin Land theme, "Ding Dong the Prick is dead." Her ex-fiance had been such an ass, and I could never understand how she didn't see it, because it was all so clear to me.

How ironic. Someday I'll have to ask Oli what her song for me was.

So this is the Beginning. Six years of being an Us, and now I'm just Me again. It's an interesting picture. I will have my bad days, especially at first, where I'll just want to listen to sad music and cry, or not even get out of bed. Maybe I should start training Bluetooth to bring me kleenex.

I have wounds, but I also have knowledge. That, at least, is the prize coming out of this. And maybe once I get over all the hurt and anger that's already leaving me, I'll have more room for the one thought that's becoming bigger and better with each passing hour.

I'm free.