I'm Miserable, Thanks for Asking

Another question people some people have asked me after the breakup is "How are you doing?" And I get it, it's people being nice and trying to make sure I'm not thinking about taking a bath with a toaster. But there's really no great way to answer that question. If I decide to be honest and say I feel like I'm watching my whole future disintegrate and turn into a bad joke, most people are going to feel obligated to make sure I'm going to be OK and then they're dragged into a depressing and awkward conversation they don't want to be a part of. Yet if I say I'm fine, not only am I seriously lying, but I'm pretty much saying the last three and a half years of my life didn't mean shit to me. And that couldn't be further from the truth.

People close to me know that I wasn't that happy in the relationship and I'd thought about ending it before. It wasn't that I didn't love her or didn't think she loved me. I just felt like we'd gotten to a point that we were bringing out the worst in each other and consequently making one another miserable.

Our last week "together" was a week apart in which I knew she wasn't happy and I did nothing about it. During that week I kept thinking maybe now is the time to end it. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. And instead she did.

I thought a weight would be lifted off my shoulders and I'd suddenly feel some sort of new freedom in life, but instead that weight just managed to land on my chest and I feel like I'm in a joyless prison of my own making. I never knew you could actually vomit from being upset; I thought it was just something drunk girls said to cover for drinking too much. Turns out you very much can. The only thing that really gets me out of bed is having to take Hamlet out and that's always soul crushing. He's always sitting by the window looking out and I know he's looking for his "mommy" to come home. But he's a dog so it's not like I can tell him, "Sorry dude, it's just not going to happen anymore."

Otherwise I'm usually just staring at the ceiling or the wall wondering if I'd just called her in that week before, would I even be in this situation?

Or do I even have a right to feel so low if just two weeks ago I thought breaking up would've been the best idea?

Ironically, for all the time I'm spending in bed, it's almost impossible for me to fall asleep. Most days so far it's taken a lot of alcohol and even then I don't sleep nearly as long as I keep hoping to.

All that said, I know I'm not the first person to go through a breakup like this (probably won't be the last either). I know the world is going to keep turning and trees will keep growing and given time, I won't be so miserable. Though I'll likely be a little more cynical than I was before, eventually I'll find joy in the world again.

And so rest assured coworkers and friends worried in the coming days/weeks/months/years that I'm just going to have awkward conversation about missing my ex and being lonely, I'm actually going to put on my best stoic face and get on with life as normal.