Saturday…well, Saturday was just plain weird.
In an effort to make new friends and get myself out of the house, I joined a gym and yoga studio last week. Both had super sweet deals and neither forced me to sign those ridiculous contracts that you can easily get pressured into…
So, Saturday morning, I decide to attend my first yoga class – it was an easy class, which is what I wanted since I’m new to yoga – more of a meditation really. You hold six or seven poses for 5-10 minutes each. The yoga instructor mentioned that some people laugh or cry – that it’s normal to feel emotional…
I cried nearly the whole damn time. From the second pose on, there was a constant, silent stream of tears. At one point, the instructor dabbed my face with tissues and then pressed them into my hand.
I had recently wondered about my lack of tears actually – I hadn’t really cried since the day I was broken up with – maybe a brief moment here or there but other than that, nada. No true break down. I chalked this up to having dealt with a loss much much worse than a breakup. But, I guess I was just holding it in.
I didn’t feel too embarrassed…okay, I felt slightly embarrassed, as I exited the studio and ran smack dab into all the other yoga instructors – two of which I had met when signing up. They smiled and asked me how my first class went and I told them how I cried the whole time…they said that happens and then, invited me to a pool party.
Again, I’m trying to force myself to do things…so I go to the pool party. I eat some food, have a few drinks, and meet new people. I drink some water and decide I’ll head to the gym. I don’t feel drunk at all – I’ve had plenty of food…again, pushing myself to do things.
About fifteen minutes into my gym workout, I start feeling incredibly dizzy. I could barely sit up, so I lay there on a workout bench wondering what the hell is going on with me. After a few minutes, I decide to go to the locker room and have never had to focus so hard to walk in my life, the world spinning all around me. I find a bench and a trash can to hug…a few people try to help me but even the girl at the front desk is pretty useless. I’m useless – I have no clue what is going on with me. I start thinking that maybe I’m just massively dehydrated from the crying and the few drinks…
About 30 minutes go by and I realize that I just have to get to my car. I mentally make this my very tiny goal – just get to the car. Get to the car. Get to the car. I walk out of the locker room, past the girl at the front desk, exit the doors…and run immediately to a trash can and puke. And puke. And puke.
No one saw it. I finally get myself to my car. And I sit in it with the air blowing on my face for about 30 minutes. All I can think is how I want to call him…want some reassurance that I’m not dying…that this was all poor decision making…that I can and will get home. I just miss him. And it’s not that I think I necessarily needed him – I don’t need someone to tell me I’ll be okay…I just wanted someone to say it. Wanted to exist to someone. In particular, I wanted to exist to him.
If a tree falls in a forest, and no one is there to hear it… Well, if a girl pukes her life up in a trash can and no one is there to see it…
Finally, I will myself to drive home, just to sit in my parking spot for twenty minutes…before convincing myself that I can walk to my front door, which I do – after throwing up, again, on some plants along the way.
I magically get to my bed and pass out for four hours straight. When I woke up, I thought this was all just dehydration…but the dizziness (minus the puking – thank gawd), continued yesterday – and today, I have a fever and chills.
And there’s nothing like being sick to make you miss someone even more…
I try to tell myself that I’m lucky to have had someone like that – to have been in love and have had someone love me. My sister never had that.
I don’t know that I even felt lonely, I wasn’t really sad – I just felt non-existent. How many days did she feel non-existent? Like she could just disappear and it wouldn’t matter?
And I’m not saying it wouldn’t, wouldn’t matter…but there is something to having a significant other – to feeling really important to someone else…that in many ways, supersedes your family. I wish she had had that – if even for a moment. So, I guess in turn, I should be happy that I had that, even if it’s over and I’m puking in trash cans alone now.