Strange New Days

Yesterday, I put on a shirt that I haven't worn in a long time. One that used to fit well and even flatter my figure. People used to say, "Oh I like that shirt," and that would make me smile. Yesterday, when I looked in the mirror after putting that shirt on, I noticed the bulb-shape of my abdomen and cringed. I have a beer-belly. I'm not at all fat... but I'm certainly not skinny anymore.

In high school, I was just like this. My sophomore year was spent cautiously studying food nutrition labels as I abstained from soda, candy and junk food in general. I worked out every day by playing basketball or lifting weights or doing calisthenics. I kept this up until I met my ex-girlfriend, who I would date for three years, who introduced me to drinking, and ultimately binging (after our break-up).

Today, I woke up for the first time and didn't have anything in my throat to cough up. It was as though I had been sleeping in a "clean room" like the quarantines of a major hospital. Or maybe a snug tent out in the arid climate of the southwest desert.

I'm thinking about how, two nights ago, I found out from a friend of my ex that my dog, Carter died by a freak electrocution. It was an accident, of course, but when I heard the news I was unprepared. I set down my glass and tried to take the next turn at my pool game. I made the shot, but shortly after, the weight of it poured in like cake batter into a barrel. Heavier and thicker and harder to carry. I had to go outside and have a cigarette. I knew what was coming. It was the insane pressure of dealing with my never-lost feelings for my ex. Mixed with this love were the unmistakable pangs of hurt that arrive from finding out more truths-- truths she had always denied but turned out to be true.

Of course, my ex's friend came out to console me and out of nowhere, I blurted out between manly huffs (the kind that just barely hold down tears) "This is the last thing she needs."

I was mourning my dog, of course, but even more I mourned the death of not just an animal, but a connection that I had to my Ex. The last hope, it seemed, that she and I would ever get back together. The last excuse I might have to see her. In the face of all her flaws and misdeeds, her dishonesty, the kind of dishonesty that denies all, but never incriminates-- I just wanted her to be okay. The countless nights I spent squirming around in attempt to grasp the idea that someone else could make her happy were finally outweighed by the realization that her being happy trumps all, even if I am not there.

Now, I hear from my Ex's friend that she is not happy. Not only is she miserable but she clings to the old ideology that she is simply destined to be alone. Her antisocialness was always a problem, even when I held her in my arms and in my heart... and to know that she hasn't rid herself of that blanket of doubt, simply hurts me to the very soul. Ex's friend firmly believes that I should go and see her. Talk to her. Make her feel better.

But I can't. I can't risk my heart for a third or fourth... I've lost count how many times just to boost her ego enough for her to brush me away again. She was once a user of drugs and alcohol. Now, she's a user of people, and that's one addiction she may never beat.

So I look forward to today, thinking that I'll start doing some exercises and work the two shifts I have this morning and later in the afternoon. I'll have money in my pocket and I'll be around true friends. My outlook is for me, not her. And I'll be strong because I know that I've made this decision to ignore her over and over again. This time it's just a tiny tiny bit easier than the last.