Jason and I had a lengthy chat tonight... a postmortem of sorts. I wanted to ask all of the questions that I would have asked a week ago when we broke up were I not so paralyzed, and the questions that have come up while I've been mulling things over in my head all this time. But something unexpected happened: I became happy. I thought that the conversation would make me sad, but something I had to do—instead, I became the happiest I've been since we split. I realized that I couldn't have asked for a nicer ex. I even knew it all already in my heart and even my blog posts, but here it was, apparent proof in an AOL Instant Messenger window that even though the romantic interest I had hoped for wasn't there, he cared about me until the very end.
I don't particularly want to share the private details of our conversation, but suffice it to say that even as I feel so unloved I now feel loved, and even as I feel so heartbroken I feel close again. Our friendship has survived the worst, most painful week; why would it fail now? I am optimistic. I feel that an hour ago I progressed into a third stage of coping—from utter devastation, to reflective depression, to a curious mix of joy and hope—and still more depression.
Since this weekend I've been assembling notes on a "final" post about my breakup, and the questions and worries it left me with. But now, I wonder how many of those questions are still unanswered, and how many of those worries will still bother me. How much of that post will be deleted as not-applicable before it's finished? Perhaps we'll see this weekend.
Relevant in title if not necessarily in content: Barenaked Ladies—One Week