This is me...having a cheap therapy session.

There should be a warning label on things that say things like:
*Don't put me in a box, because you'll cry as hard as you did when you put me in there as you will when you take me out.
*Just leave me behind; you only think you want me now, but trust me, you don't want the memories sneaking up on you from behind when your eyes land on me in the middle of an otherwise perfectly fine day. Just leave me behind and miss me, the item, and you won't cry over the memories I bring attached to me.
*Sentimental: open after at least some part of you has healed, or you've cried every grain of salt out of your body. On second thought: neither of those will happen, so screw sentimental...you can just do without.
*Just buy a new one of me; you'll be far better off than keeping the old one.

Or do they make a "memory eraser" button? That might be handy.

I think moving into a new place should come with step-by-step instructions on what goes where, do this first, sit down and rest for 15 minutes here. No, I don't come with my own shower rod, so pick one up while you're out with all your extra money in your pockets. Oh-and each should also come with a magic wand or a Mary Poppins bag. "Handy man" has the word "man" in it, and I've sworn off those. If not indefinitely, then permanently, or at least not until I am 72.

Of course, all of this is dependent upon the reason for which you are moving; if you don't have a heart that has been shattered into an infinite number of pieces, with half the pieces out there still walking around, making said heart impossible to ever be complete again, moving into a new home might actually be fun. I always thought it would be. I always wanted my own little house to fix up. If that's so, then how come all the joy is sucked out of me, every time I think about it? Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it. How many times have I wished that throughout my life? If I take it back that many times, will I still have to move? I'm with Anna. I don't like that house as much as I like my PiePie's house; I don't like ANY house as much as I like my PiePie's house, so how come that's not just fine and dandy? But, I also stand with Anna on the flip side of the question...I have no answers. And worse yet: I have no PiePie.

And how could I forget that the Fourth of July is just the "excuse" that PiePie and his group of friends need to put together the perfect cookout, complete with more than enough to eat, plenty of kids and room for all, and cornhole, and horse shoes, and all of those things will go on, without me here, a part of what goes on at the now defunct "Perry's Paradise"....at least in my book. I'm sure in theirs, the world will keep on spinning, as if I were never anything more than just a fly on the wall...here today, gone tomorrow, grouped off now with the ever-famous "Others". "I'm DIFFERENT!!!" I want to scream. I'm not like them!!! I love him, and want nothing more than to mkae him happy!!!! And then, my brain goes into the: you-weren't-enough-to-make-him-happy mode. It's all just a viscious circle of thoughts, stuck on repeat, along with the rest of the things stuck on repeat in there these days, sounding something like a huge trainwreck in there at almost all times....even when I should be sleeping soundly. As much energy as I have expended both physically and mentally over the last two weeks (seems a lifetime), you would think I could at least get some decent, Ambien-induced rest. But it's not to be had. Rest, elusive rest, how I wish you would come to me, my brain, my body. Perhaps I could deal better with rest...less of a snowball effect, if you will.

Pride is another ugly part of this. Oh, there is the sting of a breakup when you are not the one doing the breaking up, sure, but when you are the woman that the whole town and family has talked about for "taming" the legendary Mark Perry, and getting him to put a ring on his finger, you can just imagine how the amount of tongues wagging quadruples when it's even juicier news...that they are no longer together, and she wasn't as special as she thought she was. But still, I have to live in this little town, I have to smile at the little people in this little town, and I have to do it convincingly enough that they never know that they bother me. That, my friends, is nearly impossible. What's possibly even worse is looking the people who told you so in the eye, and knowing that they were right, when you were so sure that they were wrong. And the one who had the most right to sneer at me the ugliest of all I-told-you-so's has grown so much, matured, changed, softened...he never said a word. In fact, I could almost be talked into the notion that I might have caught a bit of compassion there for me...but that could be my imagination. I'd rather think not, so I'll not ask, for then I don't know the answer for sure.

Today, for the Nanna's sake, and probably for my own as well, I just had to throw in the towel. I didn't even last 2 hours. What a whimp, huh? Just kept standing there, not even sure if I was thinking or not, just standing, and then I would realize poor little excited (finally) Anna was yacking it up 90 mph, and I hadn't heard a word of anything she said. And I tried to listen, to smile to return the chatter, but I know she knew that I was preoccupied, perhaps, she even knew I was sad. (Not that it's hard to figure out...but I did manage to get her dropped back at her Nanny and Pa's house before I broke down, thankfully.) I'm hoping and praying that I can get up tomorrow, have the stamina both mentally and physically to put one foot in front of the other, to smile, to think straight enough to know that that the canned things do not go in the living room, but in the kitchen, to pack more here at this house that isn't ine any more (I'm aquiring a collection of those...a very unwanted collection.). I know I will be much healthier, both mentally and physically, not to have to see them come and go without me, wondering where they are and when they will be back, sitting in here knowing that it's not mine to love any more, and I yearn to be done with getting out....yet there is that other part of me that wants to drag it out indefinitely...hopefully forever, and never need to finish, but rather, to finish this life we started together...together. But that will never be. And so I must pray to get through another minute, another hour, day...week...dare I hope to think I can make it through a month? I suppose so...people don't always die of broken hearts...but it sure feels like it would be easy to do, or preferable to be put out of that misery....but then, I wouldn't want to be heartless, for that would be worse than having a broken one.

As I type, I'm still thinking things.....talking about hearts and heartless and broken....I used to lay my head on his shoulder, and tell him I could hear his heart beating. He would reply that he didn't have one, which I would always counter with, but I hear it...and then he would say, well, then it's black. That was him conceding and letting me having my way, and I appreciated that, and so I left it there, both of us knowing I knew he didn't have a black heart. And I know now that he doesn't have a black heart, or no heart, but in fact a heart that is one of the most caring hearts I've ever known in my life, which is why it breaks mine so bad to see him go back in that steel box, where he will remain untouchable, perhaps forever, because he is too stubborn a Perry to just give in to having one, and loving with it freely now, like he has for these last years.

And so my roller coaster ride continues, and I fear I am still climbing my way to the top...the slow part, you know, when you just get started? the part that takes forever? Yeah. I just hope it's not a long roller coaster, because I don't know how much of the up and down and hands and no-hands I can take, and still smile, and be an Abby that even resembles the Abby of the last 35 years. I feel like the sun will never shine again, like the color in my colorful world is gone, and all that's left in its place is black and darkness. Me, the happiest person I know, in a world of black and darkness. I would never have thought. But I will battle, and I will not give in, for this group of friends and family I have tell me I'm strong, and I can bear the load, so I will go on, trusting they are right, and I will continue to do my best to persevere and in a positive manner. Tomorrow is a new day, and I shall begin it fresh and new, praying for happier thoughts to gather at the end of the day.