delete,delete,delete…

What’s the first thing you do after a break up?

Get him out of your phone and off your social media of course.

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Dear reader you may have come up with another answer to the question but I’ve been thinking about how I removed #3 from my social media months ago.  It’s was process.  First I had to unfriend him, second change my relationship status then came the tedious part.  I had to search every photo on Facebook and Instagram in order to delete them(him).  I wish Zuckerberg would develop an algorithm to pick up on what you’re doing and a question would pop up in the middle of the screen asking “Do you wish to delete all tagged photos of #3?” Instead we are asked the obligatory, “Are you sure you want to delete that photo?”  About the fiftieth time I’m screaming at the phone, “What do you think?”  YES!  I think I’ll write Mark Z. an email and suggest this application.  Maybe I can find him on Facebook.  seriously though this is minor in the grand scheme of things.  It’s deleting him out of my mind and out of the rest of my life that has been hard.

About a month ago my phone for whatever reason backed up to an older version of the cloud.  When it did so, a bunch of my old photos were restored. Wedding photos, a trip with him to Mexico, and candid shots of him with the kids were all back on my phone. Time to delete again. But I thought, didn’t I just do this?  At least I didn’t have to go through my Facebook and Instagram deleting him on there again. I didn’t feel like messing with #3 or his photos so I let it ride for a few weeks.  I didn’t want to go through the delete, delete and repeat process. I didn’t want to deal with the hurt or the feelings of betrayal and anger I’d managed to beat down. I did get to the task eventually and it was every bit as painful as I had thought it would be. Of course I was alone when I completed this “chore”. By the time I finished I was a sticky ball of emotion.  I had loved this man and he drew me in with his intensity, attention, affection and a generosity which was extended not only to me but my entire family.  How much was real and how much of the last three years was based on his lies?  Where did the truth end and the covering up begin? I couldn’t deal with my feelings of shame, disappointment and disgust. I needed to numb my pain so, I opened up a bottle of Riesling and had a glass.  I then drank two more for good measure. I listened to Miranda Lambert and the Dixie Chicks via Pandora so loudly they drown out my own thoughts and I decided out of pure frustration to clean my house.  It wasn’t like I was going to drive anywhere. I don’t dink alone. Well, now I have to say, usually I don’t drink alone and I rarely get drunk.  I was so angry.  I was hurt. I felt every betrayal as if it had just happen.  I cried.  I begged God to take the hurt away.  Please let me be numb even if it’s just for a little while. I didn’t get numb.  I eventually after some ill-advised texting went to bed.

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Well, morning came and along with it the regret of letting my emotions get the best of me.  I felt like crap physically but on the upside, my house looked and smelled great. I went through the motions of the day and have every day since.  When did I get to be so broken?  Don’t get me wrong I have good days.  Some days I almost feel like I use to before #3.  I laugh and joke with friends but it’s not the same because I’m not the same. I have some great girlfriends. They have listened to my stories and consoled my heart ache.  They have heard my take on men, “If there is a bad one within 40 miles I’ll be irrevocably attracted to him because my picker is broken.”  They have heard me say, “You really never know someone no matter how long you are acquainted with him. No matter how well-meaning a guy may seem he is probably not genuine.” Then there is the biggie, “I know I’ll never be able to trust again.” So where does that leave me?

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Statistically speaking I’m about half way through my life expectancy. Provided I don’t meet with an untimely accident or develop an illness which shortens my life span. I have a lot of time left to fill while I’m on Earth.  What am I going to do with the rest of my life?  I’m not considering the nunnery or anything like that but…Am I done with men? (Seriously I still like them.)  I’d like to think the answer is no but, I just can’t let my heart get broken again.  I’m running out of super glue and band aids. Are there any good men out there and if so would I have sense enough to recognize one and not chase him off with my scars leading the battle charge?  Could I do the friendship thing first then see where it goes?  I don’t know the answers to these questions yet but initial actions indicate I don’t know what I’m doing.

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I’m going to sit on the fence for a while and wonder how Jane Austen managed to create Mr. Darcy and ponder how Nora Ephron ever suggested friendship before love could exist as in “When Harry Met Sally” and “You’ve Got Mail”.  Maybe one day I’ll get down from my perch and be ready to try agin.

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Coffee, Daisies and Chocolates,

holly

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