The aftermath...

   

      When I started this blog a few months ago, I initially intended it for my solo adventures.  At the risk of infusing an "emo-feel" to this post, let us just say that I was trying to heal my broken heart back then (still broken, by the way haha).  I guess, I was tired of wallowing in self pity that I felt like I simply had to go away.  Far away.  Alone.  

     So off I went on my own for ten days.  It was beautiful.  I was euphoric.  For a while there, I forgot that I was brokenhearted.  For ten days or so, that wound in my heart seemed to have stopped throbbing painfully.  My tear ducts seemed to have ran out of supply for once.  I was happy.  I was so sure that there's no more going back to that gloomy place I had been holing myself in for more than a year now.  I thought I was brillant!  At least, I thought I was...

     A few days after I got back from my solo adventure, the novelty of it all started wearing off.   My self induced "anesthesia" started to wane out.  I logged in on my facebook account only to see a picture of the man I love with his newborn baby Patrick.  I smiled and remembered how just a year ago, we talked about naming our first boy "Patrick."  Only, the baby in the picture isn't mine.  And so was he, at least, not anymore.  And just like that, I found myself back to square one.  It's like I never left. 

     I realized that the aftermath is not exactly as sweet as I thought it would be.  I can go on a double trip to hell and back and things will not go away just like that.  I will still hurt.  I will still cry whenever I remember him.  

     But going away reminded me that it will not hurt like this forever.  That things do get better in time.  So I am a bit hopeful...  I will keep on trying until one day, it doesn't hurt as much to remember.

Where should I go next?