Pieces of Me

For a few seconds – a flash, as I was rushing down Bond Street en route to my second meeting of the day – I felt like my old self. Not myself of Before I Left BN2, but myself pre-November, when I was (mostly) happy and busy and employed. When my days were a blur of media and meetings and parties and interviews and writing, and I never had to worry about having an unproductive day because no matter what, I still was getting a paycheck.

None of today’s meetings is likely to result in a paycheck, but I had a brief glimpse of what my life could be like – possibly even a better version of the way it was pre-November (and not just because there’s no BN2, either.)

Then I was brought back down to earth.

Earlier today, I saw my counselor – actually for the first time since I left BN2 (counselor – who we’ll call A. -- was ill last week). I told a few parts of the story of my leaving. I cried, off and on, silent tears running down my face, squashing all of my tissues up in a ball the way – I remembered this briefly – I used to do with white bread in summer camp.

I cried because the story is painful. And because I think somehow I was able to get through until today because I thought today I would get to talk to BN2. I thought I’d discuss the note I wanted to send BN2 with A., and then I’d send it. Or even that I could just call him and say hello. (Hey, that’s why these are fantasies – because they are, um, fantasist.) And then I could stop thinking about making this OK for BN2 and focus on making it OK for myself.

I promised A. I would not contact BN2 without discussing it first – so no text message on a whim (or two glasses of wine).

“You have the rest of your life to say whatever you want to say to him,” A. – erm – counseled.

He also told me – “and I’m ready to be proven wrong” – that he fully expected me to have 12 grim weeks. “And if you’re not in another relationship” – the phrase caught my attention, because I wonder if I’d have stayed so long with BN2 if I ever thought I would meet anyone else – it could be another six or nine months on top of that.

Ugh.