Just had a pleasant catch-up with the EX, he told me his girlfriend and her child have moved into his house. Rationally I am ok about this, but there's some uncontrollable emotion that just 'taps' on, tears were shed and nausea prevails. It is nothing compared to the heartache felt by the many victims of the Victorian bushfires. After these tears I ran into a friend, she was in a restaurant with a big group of people, I tapped her on the shoulder to say hello. She couldn't string a sentence together because the group of strangers she was with had gathered to support each other and mourn the loss of a mutual friend. They desperately needed to start drinking the wine they'd just ordered.
What is the emotion I feel about the long-gone relationship? What is the nausea about? Is it just pity for myself? Is it that pathetic? Is it because someone I loved with all my heart turned away? Is it because I am left behind, replaced as a soulmate and left to ponder my self-worth? Is it because I was perhaps not 100% loved for those 8 years (I find this difficult to believe but the thought of it is the most crippling). Is it because I feel not even close to a new relationship? Is it because I can forsee myself as a spinster? Robbed of the opportunity to love someone in the way I can? What is the importance of human romantic relationships anyway? Is it just purely a romantic notion and equal happiness can be found in other pursuits? Is it a tradition? An ideology? Is it really a natural human instinct? So many questions. I knew that catching up with the EX would stir me. I appreciate his want to delicately convey the news in person though. At least I will no longer (or start to not) be haunted by white commercial vans in my neighbourhood. What is the meaning of fate and circumstance that I have to grow stronger to cope with his new relationship situation whilst he falls tenderly into his new partner's arms?
I guess I can reason, rationalise and attribute cause to my quandary in a way the bushfire devastation can't. Life is brutal and sweet. Hot and cold. Ferocious and calm. We carry on.
He gave me a scarf, a scarf he bought for himself but that I wore more often than he did. It's a wonderfully long, thick and rugged scarf. A photo he found of me reminded him of my bond with the scarf, that's thoughtful. It'll keep me cosy when winter comes. I am under control yet carefree. Worry not, is me.
