From Heartbreak, Mourning, Loss. Volume One, Detach or Die
Hooked on hope
Laura has moved out of my house; she rented her own apartment to “sort out her feelings” which, to me, simply means that she wants to be with Jeremy. I check my emails obsessively, longing, deprived, sad, filled with the hope that this sorting out will end with a sweet contrite email: “Jeremy is a big mistake, it’s you I love, I am coming home.”
I can’t even go the grocery store without thinking I might miss her call, her visit. I fear Laura is choosing Jeremy over me and it sends me spinning in fear. Each time I panic, I send her another email. Every day, I spend hours crafting long eloquent pleas, and Laura answers back with falsely sweet and short replies, like: “Thanks for your lovely email. I need time and space. I hope you are taking good care of your precious self.”
My hopes are raised when she writes sweet words like that, and I send more long and affectionate messages. Sometimes she takes two or three days before she answers back an uncompromising brief reply: “I love you too! I am so busy right now, I can’t reply properly but I’ll see you next week.” She cancels our meetings one time out of two, always with a good reason. I am hooked on our email connection like an umbilical cord that attaches me to her. This is not me.
