Mending a Broken Heart
I left my job for good on Friday. I got through the first half of the day just fine. I was surprised, actually. I got a little choked up when telling my AM students, but I got over it and moved on. I even felt a little...relieved. I had this odd sense of calm. I was lulled into this false sense of security. Just when I thought I would be fine, BAM, on came the waterworks. I walked into the lunch room and saw my cake. My coworkers had gotten me a Mickey Mouse cake. Everyone was looking at me, though I didn't know that from seeing it since I was staring at the ground. I didn't want to cry, but the tears came anyway. I should have been prepared. This is ME we're talking about. When don't I cry?
That was just the beginning anyway. The rest of the day, I was uneasy. My hands would start to shake, and my left eye twitched for no reason. I would find myself on the verge of tears at any moment. Walking out those doors was so difficult. Everyone was stopping me and giving me hugs. A few close friends walked me all the way up front, struggling for normal conversation.
Though I wasn't supposed to be with him, D walked me to my car. It was fitting, I suppose. The man that was the main reason for me leaving was going to be the last person I saw from work. He hugged me, and I started to cry. I know why I left my job. I know this decision was the best decision for my family. This move gives my family a fighting chance at surviving. But that doesn't mean the decision comes lightly or easily. Hugging D just brought everything into perspective. This would be the last time I talked to him. The last time I saw him. The last time I touched him. And as I was hugging him, I could feel it in my heart. Me, finally letting go. Finally telling myself and him that I have made my final choice, and it is set in stone.
Friday was a horrible day for me, but I am trying to mend my broken heart. Friday night I spent time with my husband at the fair. He/I won a frog at the mouse game. I picked #83 to symbolize 8/3, the start of our new life. It landed on 84, but it was still the same column. Maybe not too much symbolism there, but I pretended there was to ease my pain.
Yesterday (Saturday), I watched my son catch his first fish. Seeing the joy in his face after helping Grandma pull it from the water was priceless. Today I watched him ride some kiddie rides, and the happiness that I see in his eyes lets me know that what I did was right. It was hard. Damn was it hard. Probably the hardest thing I've done in my life to date, but if my son is happy, then it is all worth it, and I'd do it again if I had to.
Tomorrow I get to see him ride a stick horse in a mock competition. Anticipating his smile that will no doubt be on his face makes me light up, and my broken heart begins to mend, piece by piece by piece.
That was just the beginning anyway. The rest of the day, I was uneasy. My hands would start to shake, and my left eye twitched for no reason. I would find myself on the verge of tears at any moment. Walking out those doors was so difficult. Everyone was stopping me and giving me hugs. A few close friends walked me all the way up front, struggling for normal conversation.
Though I wasn't supposed to be with him, D walked me to my car. It was fitting, I suppose. The man that was the main reason for me leaving was going to be the last person I saw from work. He hugged me, and I started to cry. I know why I left my job. I know this decision was the best decision for my family. This move gives my family a fighting chance at surviving. But that doesn't mean the decision comes lightly or easily. Hugging D just brought everything into perspective. This would be the last time I talked to him. The last time I saw him. The last time I touched him. And as I was hugging him, I could feel it in my heart. Me, finally letting go. Finally telling myself and him that I have made my final choice, and it is set in stone.
Friday was a horrible day for me, but I am trying to mend my broken heart. Friday night I spent time with my husband at the fair. He/I won a frog at the mouse game. I picked #83 to symbolize 8/3, the start of our new life. It landed on 84, but it was still the same column. Maybe not too much symbolism there, but I pretended there was to ease my pain.
Yesterday (Saturday), I watched my son catch his first fish. Seeing the joy in his face after helping Grandma pull it from the water was priceless. Today I watched him ride some kiddie rides, and the happiness that I see in his eyes lets me know that what I did was right. It was hard. Damn was it hard. Probably the hardest thing I've done in my life to date, but if my son is happy, then it is all worth it, and I'd do it again if I had to.
Tomorrow I get to see him ride a stick horse in a mock competition. Anticipating his smile that will no doubt be on his face makes me light up, and my broken heart begins to mend, piece by piece by piece.
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