ugh

Alright. I hate making overly personal posts about my love life, but the past resurrected itself last night in the form of a dream. And this particular part of my past has not chosen to be in my dreams for quite some time. About a year and a half to be exact.

Yesterday was April 10. Exactly 6 months before my birthday. And exactly the day of my the ex’s birthday. I mentioned this to my sister-in-law last night while watching a House repeat, because we were talking about why we both take anti-depressants. I admitted that it is a family disease, which only became pronounced when the ex and I broke up a little over 2 years ago. I have definitely moved on, and only think of him occasionally because I wonder how he’s doing and what his life is like and how it has changed since we last spoke. Our last point of contact was July 07, via an email where we decided we could not be friends because he had moved on (ie, was seeing someone else) and I did not have that same, peculiarly swift rebounding quality.

But something about that conversation with my sister-in-law struck a chord with my unconscious mind. That, combined with feeling incredibly isolated, having just moved across the country to a state where the only people I know are the 5 I live with, led to my anxiety-ridden dream. It went like this: I was at a carnival or fair of some sort. Dusty ground, people everywhere, carnival games all around. And I saw him in a crowd. Not even his face, but the back of his head. It’s not a particularly remarkable back of a head, but it becomes so when you look at it for countless nights for a couple years. He hadn’t seen me yet. I had a split-second to decide if I was going to be a coward and hide, or be the bigger person and go up to him. Not wanting to regret a chance for closure, I walked over. He turned suddenly, seeing me walking towards him. He looked startled, then uncomfortable, then guarded. We both mustered fake smiles, not enough for teeth to show, so it looked even more forced. We exchanged greetings and asked how each other was. I believe “good, really good” was about all we said. I think he had to run off to do something, and he did so with a hurried “goodbye.” What I had been preparing myself for for almost two years had come and gone in less than a minute. I felt awkward and foolish, and no better than I did before I saw his dark brown hair. Thankfully he had grown out of his mohawk phase, which I had detested, mainly because he had beautiful hair–dark brown with a tinge of red, which he got from his mom.

Then somehow I was at a house party with a few of my friends. Shameem and possibly Brit were there. I was telling them about the earlier events of the day, still kinda pissed and a little hurt that I couldn’t have a pleasant conversation with the ex, to prove to him that I was sooooo past that stuff, and brag a bit about how much I’d accomplished without him. We were hanging out in someone’s bedroom I think, and a of people I didn’t know were in there as well. Then the ex walked into the room with his girlfriend, or what I assumed was his girlfriend. He saw me and nodded his head in acknowledgement, but sat down with the other people we didn’t know and kinda ignored me for the rest of the night. I recall remarking to Shameem, “He’s an ass, obvs, but isn’t he hot?” Later in the night I ventured out of the room to see who else was at the party, and for some reason his parents were there in the living room. I said hi to his dad and reached out to shake his hand, but he pulled me in for a surprisingly long, meaningful hug. Their friend Jodie was there and hugged me too. I think I hugged his mom the longest. I truly miss talking to her, even though she’s overbearing and crazy like my mom. I think we both said we missed our chats, but knew we could never have the same relationship as before. It would be inappropriate. So I got a little bit of closure from his parents, even though I was uncomfortable and felt like someone had socked me in the stomach every time I saw the ex.

I woke up baffled at the clarity and content of the dream. Come on, eighteen months of no dreams of him, then I get slammed with something like this??? I’m going to escalate my search for a cheap but good therapist now. I don’t need things like this cluttering up my life anymore.