So it has been 24 days since I last communicated with my ex and frankly, it still hurts like hell.  I would have thought by now I’d  be past the dull ache you feel in your heart when you experience any kind of loss. But I’m not. Some days are easier than others. Today was a tough one. My son was sick and I had to take the day off from work. For some reason, driving him to the doctor’s office in such warm, spring-like weather made me reflect on that relationship and it put me in a funk.

This time a year ago, my ex had decided to move up here. The newness and rekindling of that romance made last spring memorable and wonderful. It made me sad to remember how things once were and I so badly wanted to call him. I wanted to turn back time and capture the euphoria of that time. Normally, I would have given in to that desire and acted impulsively just to relieve the ache.  Instead, I decided to sit in the sadness and pray.  It sucked!  I hated every last minute of it. I cried and listened to the radio and felt the sunshine on my face wishing I could have him back.

But as I drove on, the ache started to fade and I talked myself out of wanting to call him. I asked myself, “To what end would that call result?” Likely, I’d backslide into wanting him again and that would only lead to agony.  I continued on, telling myself that I know full well I can’t have a fulfilling relationship with a married man.  In all likelihood nothing has changed with his circumstances, so why even fantasize about what could be? What “could be,” in reality, simply “can’t be?”  Before long, I was focused on singing the song on the radio.

For an instant I caught myself enjoying the day and not ruminating about the past. At that moment, I realized I was making progress. I was able to control my impulses and recognize the self-defeating behavior I would have normally indulged in. I was able to defeat those impulses and change the final outcome. Yes, I was, and still am hurting deeply from this loss, but in staying present in the sadness and working through it, I was able to combat it.  It wasn’t a blissful, fun experience by any stretch. But it was great progress!  

At that moment, Bruce Springsteen never sounded so good.

I turned the radio up as loud as my three year old could stand it and Bruce and I sang—at the top of our lungs—the rest of the way home.