The irony here is that I spoke to David tonight and in our conversation I actually told him that I rarely, if ever, blog about him anymore. And here I am blogging about him. Well, truthfully, this will be about me. My reaction to a conversation that I had with him. So, no, not about him. About me.
I probably should know better by now than to actually call David on the telephone. I suppose my psyche is still trying to sort out exactly how David and I fit together? It hasn't even been a year yet, since we've been separated, and I think, honestly, my brain is still just a bit confused over where exactly he fits in my post-marriage, post-David life? Are we friends? Are we close? How much, exactly, do I share? What is really too much information?
I won't go into the details or reasons for my phone call this evening. I just called. But during my call, I learned some other details that, well, with complete and utter surprise to me, upset me. Yes, I say surprise because I found myself running to the bathroom and throwing up after I spoke to David.
Throwing up. That's my reaction when I am upset by things that he has shared with me, as we all know.
Throwing up. And banging my head. Where it stops, nobody knows?
I am not naive. I am aware that there are depths of my heart and my soul that I have yet to unravel and yet to purge. I just really wanted to believe that I was doing better than I am, I suppose. I wanted to believe that my heart, that my soul, was over him.
I'm not over him. At least not yet.
