Monday, March 15, 2010

The Aftermath

I was scheduled to attend a passion party with my friend at another girlfriend's house. I was actually looking forward to it and having a good time. That was right before Sebastian broke up with me on the same day.

I still attended because I couldn't bear to be alone at my apartment. And I truly thought that spending time with other girls would help keep my mind off of the breakup. I broke down twice, confiding in my friends about the breakup. I had to tell them what had happened because I realized it was the only way to come to terms and accept that it was in fact over. However, I was still very much hurt and the pain was still new that the more I talked about it, more tears rolled down my face.

The next day, Sebastian took the status off of Facebook and my friends came to comfort me when they saw the "single" status change. I was glad that they'd noticed and that I actually had people watching my back. I called my dad in California and told him what had happened and he tried his hardest to comfort me. "You're not the first, and you definitely won't be the last to suffer a breakup" he kindly told me.

I've heard this advice before. It helped before and it will definitely help me again. My mother on the other hand just made things worse. She asked me if it wasn't perhaps my fault again, that I shouldn't have pursued him last time, that I should have let him go, and that if I knew if maybe he didn't have another woman on the side.

I was so hurt that I walked out of the house. My own mother couldn't comfort me, and then I remembered that she hadn't been able to the last time either. When I look at how my parents brought us up, my father has always been the one to give my siblings and I the most affection- kisses, hugs, and enough embraces to annoy us. My mother has taken good care of us, but has been rather cold. I don't remember the last time she actually held me or my sisters. It's always yelling on her part.

Recently, I haven't wanted to think about Sebastian, because the moment I do, I get teary eyed. I'm not ready to date again, but I am in the process of acceptance and moving on. I haven't talked to him, and I know I'm not ready to either. I hate to think about how much time must pass before I'm able to comfortably hold a conversation, because I can sense it could be at least a year. Yesterday, I sent him a text message asking what he wanted to do about the Muse concert ticket he'd bought to go to this week. He told me "Take a friend and have fun :)." I intend to go with my colleague who also bought a ticket months ago.

And as for his clothes, I didn't return it to him this past weekend on my way up to the airport. I didn't want to make the effort.

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