Want to know what’s hard?

Being an adult is hard.
Having your heart broken is hard.
Having to go back to the place where your heart was broken & face the man who did it – nearly impossible.

That’s what I’m getting ready to do this weekend. I’m not ready for it in any way, shape, or form.

I thought I was. I thought I could be strong. I thought I could be ok. I don’t think I can. I think I’m going to lose my shit all over again. In fact, I know I will. I almost did today when talking to him about it all.

Let’s back track some shall we?

This past weekend I went trail riding with some friends. Some mutual friends of Mr. Chocolate & myself. The friends I’m living with, as well as some others. Mr. Chocolate thought about going – but didn’t. I was prepared for that. I was ready to handle seeing him. To being around him. I knew there would be minimal interaction. He would be in a different truck. I would be with The Roommates. Things would be fine. He didn’t go for whatever reason, and that’s fine.

But now. Now I have to go back to the house. His house. Our house. I have to go back to the house that I have so many memories of. The house that I spent months cleaning out, painting, fixing up. The house that has so many of my blood sweat and tears poured into it. The house that I thought I was going to marry the man I loved in. Raise a family in. The house that I had my heart ripped out in. The house that I had to mourn the end of my relationship in. The house that I loved. The man that I love(d).

I have to go back because I have to pick up my mail. I have to pick up jackets and shoes that I forgot. I can’t ignore these things – ok, yes I can, but I’m choosing not to because I need these things. It would be so easy to ignore these things. My bills are paid, I’m not expecting any checks. I have a Jamberry delivery, but I can live without that. Coats? Who needs those – it’s not like it was 40 degrees this morning or anything. Besides, they sell those at the store.

Trying to arrange all of this, just talking to him again about something so simple as MAIL, has been awful. Not the conversation itself. The conversation has honestly been beyond dull.

“Can I come get my mail this weekend?”
“Sure. I’m out of town right now. How about Friday?”


But for some reason this dull conversation has pulled at my heart strings something massive today. I felt myself choking up about it. I could feel the tears behind my eyes. I THOUGHT I WAS PAST ALL THAT! Apparently not. Apparently just speaking to him, or maybe the fear of going back to that house, has me on edge.

It would be so easy to ask The Roommate to go do it. He and Mr. Chocolate are best friends. They hang out often. At least once a week.

But I’m better than that. I am not going to be a coward. I deserve my stuff and I’m going to get it. I’m going to put on my big girl panties, I’m going to go back to that house. Our house. His house. And I’m going to get the things I left and the things I need.

And more than that – I’m going to be ok.

In time I’m sure I’ll be ok with seeing and talking to Mr. Chocolate again. And I honestly believe that if I weren’t going back to our his house, I would be fine.

I thought I said good-bye to that place. I don’t know if I’m ready to do it again.



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