Life as an Extreme Sport


It’s amazing how raw and wounded I feel. Vulnerable, cowardly, bleeding,… It’s been a long two weeks, and I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. Certainly more than I’ve been comfortable with. I’m virtually incapacitated, not solely because of you, but I’m sure it helps [hurts]. Getting out of bed has become a morning ritual, a challenge – can I face the day? It often take me more than an hour. Work has been a sham, a facade. I sit in front of my computer and look busy all day, while actually doing nothing.

The memories of you… they come up so unexpected. Talking about first class, and flashing to our trip to Santa Barbara. Cold feet reminding me of your need to have your feet covered while you sleep, no matter what. These memories sneak up, then punch me in the chest. They’re often such nice thoughts, tender and sweet – then I am rushed back to the present, and reminded that you no longer want me.

I am so aware of being unwanted, on so many different levels. Rejection has been the only constant in my life these last few weeks, and I find myself wondering how people ever cope? One thing, maybe two – but everything? Constantly? Everywhere I look, I’ve been picked up, tossed aside, and replaced – often in the blink of an eye. And all I seem to be able to do is sit back, watch, and wait for it to happen again.

I find myself choking on my tears.