Finding Forty, Day 73; Cruel Summer

I'm sitting in Dallas' den, laptop perched precariously on my thighs, trying to decide what to do on this beautiful, hot, summer day.

On a whim, I jumped in the car yesterday to drive to her house for her birthday.   In years past, becoming a year older has thrown her into a funk of colossal proportions, but amazingly, this year, she is in top spirits. 

She lives about 40 minutes from where S lives and works.   Being at her house, sleeping on her couch, reminds me of the nights I spent here in the past year and a half while S and I were together.  He'd know I was in town, we'd text back and forth or email, we'd even talk on the phone as often as we could .  And then, at some point during my visit, we'd meet up and spend the most bittersweet, all too short, time together.

Today, it's been 59 days since he and I communicated.   I read a break-up book once that said give it 60 days and in that time, you'd be well on your way to moving on.   What a load of crap.   Whoever wrote that book never did time in this crazy, beligerent, determined heart of mine.   I have but one day to be over him.  Right.

I'm pissed that her house now reminds me of him.

 I'm pissed that I want to jump in the car and go drive by his house just to see if he's outside mowing.   So sick.   I'm not 14.   I'm 40.   Isn't there supposed to be a wealth of wisdom and maturity that comes with mid life?  Once, one balmy summer night while high school, my best friend and I did a "drive by" of the guy I was in love with at the time.  As we pulled into the alley behind his house to turn around, she backed into a telephone pole.   Such humiliation, mortification even.   I'm too old to be contemplating such ideas.  

I'm pissed that I gave him my all and he rejected me.  I'm pissed that I still love him like I do.

I need to be strong, I need to move on and let go and yet, here I am again, the broken record, the broken hearted.

Does every heartache hurt as much as the one before?   At 40, I'm experiencing my first break up and I wonder if I'd gone through something like this at 16 and then 20 and then 24, etc  if it might get easier with time?  At least I'd have some idea of how to DO it and not feel so ridiculous, helpless, and overwhelmed.

So, here I sit.   Wanting to act 14, needing to act 40.   I'm afraid my heart doesn't know it's proper age.

"Young at heart"....what irony, huh?   Alway striving for that, but for now, today at least, I need my heart to feel the age it is, 40 and slowly, so slowly, on the mend.

What a difference a year makes...