Over the last few weeks the ex has come up in my head a few times. Sometimes they were innocuous, happy thoughts. Reminding myself that she was pregnant in the hottest summer I can remember.
I knew she was due last week. I wasn’t obsessing over it, I only thought to check a couple of times. This is progress. All week, no baby.
I’ve been busy living my life.
My roommate leaned over to me last night to inform me that J had her baby. A girl named Amelia.
I promptly poured myself another glass of wine. And another. And then finished the bottle.
Most of the time I have a hard time naming my feelings. The numbness rules the actual feeling. I’ve heard that the difference between clinical depression and sadness is that depression is numb, and sadness requires actual feeling.
Last night I let the numbness reign. Nothing else occurred to me. I know how to deal with that calm, familiar reaction. I can sleep through just about any situation. Enough hours in bed and the sedative will wear off.
Today. Today. Today I have to face the sadness. I suppose this is progress, in general. I am more alive. The deep, terrifying sadness is here. Now I just have to dig myself out of it. Right?