I haven’t seen him in a year, and there’s been a lot of water under the bridge, including, ahem. my marriage.

I think it’s safe to say I’m over him. Yeah. I was over him a long time ago..it was a process and it came to an end.

What I’m not over is IT, the pain and rejection and self-doubt and the helplessness. The abstraction that remains in my life crops up just when I need it least.

I can always feel a nightmare coming, like a migraine. I don’t want to go to sleep because I know it’s coming. I worried for a long time about it, maybe it meant I wasn’t over him and I’d made a mistake jumping into this lifelong committment, although I can’t imagine what there’d be to wait around for in that department of the past.

I finally told Cuyler and he told me that I always seem to have the bad dreams, the screaming shouting horrible dreams about my ex-boyfriend, when something else in my life is out of control.

It’s true: when work has me treading water and sinking, when I feel like marriage is overwhelming, like adulthood is overwhelming, that’s when my sleep is invaded and I wake up stumbling out of bed to shake off the swamp.

He has become an archetype of things I can’t control, things that will hurt me and make me feel like a failure.

I don’t know the real person anymore, even though we shared almost all our time for four years. It’s amazing how much can fit into four years, and even though it was the grand prize winner of the crappy-relationship contest, it mattered because someone who observed your life for a long time is gone. Some things that I did, said, experienced, only he was there for, and has probably already forgotten. It hurts to lose someone that was close to you and my brain is still working through that.

Eventually the nightmares will go away, I think. I know I made some really good decisions in life, and I know I’m taking for granted what an amazing man I share a room, a bed and a life with. I know perfectly well that sometimes I put off appreciating him fully because I have stress to be stressed, worries to worry, hissy fits to throw at the prospect of being grown up.

Lord, what fools these mortals be.

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