Friday, December 28, 2007

Peripheral Paul

I last spoke to Paul on the phone on Tuesday, December 4. That’s three weeks and three days ago. I haven’t called him. I haven’t texted him. I haven’t emailed him. I haven’t seen him. I have no idea what he is doing with his life. Does it feel good? Sometimes. Do I still miss the hell out of him? Of course. Do I still think about him? Um…what do you think? But lately I catch myself spending actual time spans not thinking about him at all. So far I’m up to about 20 minutes of uninterrupted no-Paul time. It is amazing. I am able to enjoy spending time with someone, going to lunch with my kids, shopping with my mom. I am making real strides in myself and how I see and treat others. It’s an uphill battle, full of tears and regret, but I am coming out of the darkness.

My dear friend C. told me today when I gave her this exciting “three weeks and three days” news that popular wisdom says it takes 21 days to form a habit. So what does this mean for me? Though I am not over him, I am now in the habit of not having contact with Paul. I am living my own life and I am healing. Soon I’ll make it to an hour without thinking about him. One day I’ll get to a whole afternoon without thinking about him. Then maybe an entire day. I look forward to that time. But these three weeks mark a turning point for me. Paul is moving to the periphery of my life, of my reality, of my soul. I still love him. Duh. I always will. But I can live life without him, as unnatural and weird as it seems. I don’t want to, but I have to. It is what it is, as someone used to always tell me.

I have a new love interest in my life. He will remain nameless, because I really don’t know where any of this is going, or if I even want it to, but I have a thing for someone. That is huge. I have to be sure it isn’t some kind of rebound, however, so I am not going to say anything more. Except that I refuse to pursue a relationship until I know that I can do it cleanly and honestly. I refuse to put anyone else through the confusion and lack of direct communication that I threw at Paul. This time I am going to do things right. So I am taking my time and not really doing anything with him, except watching. Having never been a “keep calm and don’t push it” kind of gal, this feels very freaky. But it’s the only way to live. I can’t make anything happen; I can’t make anything not happen. I am getting very good at going with the flow, and seeing where it leads. It’s too late for the person I wish I could have done it with, but it’s not too late for me. And maybe for my new man.

But you know what? It's total rebound. I don't even have to think about it. I can't pursue something new when I still miss Paul like a runaway freight train. I was browsing photos looking for one to put on this post and just seeing this one, taken in December 2004 in Athens, fills me with amourousness and warm feelings for him. He's my soul mate and it's gonna take a lot longer than three weeks to start anew with someone else. So the love interest may just have to chill for a while. Oh well, he won't know the difference anyway.

Happy Friday, peeps.


Anonymous said...

Time heals all the wounds, in the meantime get distracted. ;-)
Bon courage!

tif said...

Only bright days ahead! :-)

Chicken & Waffles said...

I think you need to come to New York and spend a few wanton and drunken days with me. We'll wander the streets, we'll dance on tables at the Cutting Room and at Dinosaur BBQ and we'll just get down with our bad selves. Enjoy the male distraction (I wish I had one) and remember, a woman is rich because of the earnest love of her friends.
And I am one of them.
You heard me.

Julie said...

CW, I just may take you up on that. I feel kind of liberated today, what with my male distraction, and no matter what it turns out to be, it is definitely just what the doctor ordered.

Merci, Zen, pour ton point de vue toujours utile. And tif, always lovely to see you here.

I've got the best friends ever. This experience has just reinforced that knowledge. You all rock.