Just too tired.

I am, apparantly, not the kind of girl who should have too much time on her hands.
I'm a teacher, so during the school year, I do not have time to think twice about anything other than my students and what's best for them, so in the midst of this heartbreak, my job has been a lifesaver.

But now it's summer. (imagine scary music here)

I am teaching summer school. Which is good.
but I am teaching it via a computerized system that requires absolutely no effort from me.
Great, right?

Wrong! It leaves me with way too much damn time to think!
I mean WAY WAY WAY too much time to think.
So, the utterly bereft feeling I've kept at bay for the last five months with the business of school work, is back, in full force.  And maybe ignoring it and keeping it distanced made it worse.  I am not sure. 

All I know is that it's summer. I should be out at the lake with him, like we've always done, in his (but I will admit I always felt a bit like it was mine because I worked on it with him so many times) bad ass boat, or camping, or going to see our many many many mutual friends (the result of being best friends and knowing each other for over half of our lives). Or taking one of our many road trips together.  *sigh* But I'm dwelling on the past, right? Which isn't good.

Okay, so trying to forget what I loved about past summers and construct something new to love. Easier said than done.  And here's the sad thing. . . I don't remember a summer where he wasn't in it. I don't remember an important event since I was 15 that he wasn't a part of. . .
No, we weren't married.
No, he wasn't the only man I ever dated.
But he was the most important one.

And now, I'm alone in the little town I moved to (partly for grad school but mostly for him). . . my closest friends here just moved back to NYC. My family is hours away. My coworkers are busy with lives and plans of their own.  So I don't know what to do with myself and all this damn time on my hands.

Okay. Enough of a pity party. I'll figure out something. But right now, it all seems so overwhelming, and my new house is great, but so empty. And I've nobody with whom to find adventures or conspire. I feel lost. And its not even something I can admit to my family or friends. They all have this "Keep Calm, Carry On" mentality, which is fine. Which is probably a good idea.  Which is what I have been doing for the last five months. Which is what I might have to do for the rest of my life. And it is much easier said than done.

I've said this  before. I feel broken. Irreparably so. Not sure that serial dating via online sources will fix me. . . in fact, I'm pretty sure it won't. In fact, I'm pretty sure it will take some sort of miracle.

So, that's what I'm hoping for in the midst of this mess. A miracle.  A real one. I have spent so much of my life taking care of other people, taking care of my self, fixing problems, working through all of the tough things that have happened in my life. And I am worn out. Bone weary. And deep down I know I'm being selfish. But, damn it, I want my miracle. I want my fair share of sunshine. . . even though life isn't fair. . . for once, just once, I would like someone to take care of me.

Right now, I am too tired and heartbroken to pull myself up by my bootstraps and dust this one off. So, until either I get my miracle, or my strength miraculously returns, I think I'm going to have to sit here a while and just be.
Be wounded.
Be simply yet profoundly sad.
Be directionless.
Be still.
Be angry.
Be oh-so-very-broken.

Because I am.

This is the place where I am going to say what I really think. . .

I blog somewhere else, but I do not always feel like I can say what I really think or feel there.  So, I'm also going to blog here.

And here's what I really think:

It's Friday night and I shouldn't be alone.
I am 30, and I would really like to have somebody.
I am tired of being alone. . .
I have had my heart broken into the most excruciatingly tiny pieces...
and I just don't see how they will ever be put back together again, whole.
I'm mostly pieced together, but not entirely.
And I am lonely.
I lost my best friend.
My confidant.
And it isn't even because he died
(which would be awful and unbearably painful)
it is because he simply didn't want me --
I - just- was - not - enough

And now I find myself thinking
that I just might be broken forever.

But maybe not.
Because I still have hope. . .
at least a little bit of hope. . .
and so I say to my future someone:

I am tired of being alone, so hurry up and get here. . .