Last night was fun. Irish Two and I remain friends without any benefits. He wasn’t drinking and let’s just say my hormones have been a little unpredictable since I have the implant taken out.
I’ll admit it: I’m a tad disappointed. I miss sex with him. It was fun.
But it meant a nice fresh start this morning, waking up alone, making beetroot and apple juice and settling down to catch up with Teen Mom Three.
And crying. And crying. And crying.
Apologies if you aren’t familiar with the show, or the girls of the third incarnation of it, but watching Mackenzie (cutest teen mom ever) deal with her boyfriend falling out of love with her is just too painful. At least she has time on her side. In fact I just Googled her and they seem to be married with a second baby. Which doesn’t explain why I’m still sitting here sobbing.
However far I come in this epic breakup journey, and however I feel day to day, it still really hurts. And I’m not sure that’s going to go away anytime soon, if ever. There are memories and pain and stress held within me, somewhere in the cells of my body. Now, I studied Biology ’til I was 16. I am no scientist. Although I have been known to diagnose patients on Grey’s Anatomy faster than the good doctors of Seattle Grace Hospital (or whatever it’s called since the plane crash). Anyway, I don’t really know how stuff like this works in the body, but if I think of all the millions of cells we’re producing all the time, I have to think I have a lot of cells and things that my body made while trying to force itself through the worst time of my life. They’re probably not in great shape. Not particularly fabulous building blocks for life.
You may remember that I had tonsillitis back in January. In fact, I had a lot of illnesses since the pizza of doom – further proof of my scientific theory. After the tonsillitis my throat still hurt when I talked too loudly or when I yawned. The doctor told me that the tissue was scarred. That it was going to hurt for sometime still. But it would get better. And it did.
I think my heart is scarred too. It’s damaged. And it’s going to take a lot longer for it to heal.
Til then I’ll keep crying over Teen Mom, and just about every other show I watch. Because with all that pain held inside, I like to think crying let’s some of it out.
Pizza of Doom 
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