While I was waiting…

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This week while I was waiting to get over you, I stared a lot. I stared at random people, I stared at the passing cars, I stared at my phone, but mostly I stared at nothing at all. But I made a new friend called Apathy, and he is a sloth. He is a bit lazy so he drapes himself over my shoulders and wears me down. He makes me tired all the time. Welcome Apathy. Clearly this was a very productive week…

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This week while I was waiting to get over you, I did what Oprah suggested and I ate my emotions. Apathy approved. He was actually very supportive. My poison…cupcakes, speckled eggs and anything that screamed: “ I will make you fat!” For some reason broccoli is just not that comforting. I ate, cried, ate, re-read text messages, ate and judged myself (after which I judged myself for judging myself). Then someone suggested I re-read Oprah’s opinion on emotional eating as she actually said “ Not to…” A more productive week, yet my clothes suddenly feel like they want to cut me in half.

This week while I was waiting to get over you, I Googled: “How to get through a break up in a healthy way.” They all said the same weird thing…exercise. Really?! I mean, I hardly want to uncoil from my very comfortable fetal position, let alone move. Apathy was not amused at all, but I guess, like the Eagles said: “ some gym to remember and some gym to forget.” And since I am in the field of research I cross referenced this with inspirational quotes and one said: “ The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears or the sea.” Thanks Isak Dinesen. I’ve tried the tears thing, no cure yet. But I can tell you with the utmost certainty that it causes puffy eyes and a runny nose, and I am most definitely not swimming in Cape Town’s sea. (Enter pic of great white and ice cubes here). So therefore, by the power of deduction, I came to the conclusion that the exercise part must be true. I mean, Dr Google never lies. So I dragged my sorry-fetal-position-ass to the gym. After much deliberation, I decided that I should spend 20 minutes on the treadmill and then buy a smoothie. Well played brain. So while I was walking on the treadmill - on the slowest setting the machine could possibly go - I wondered where all the normal people were? Did the gym send out a message stating that you could only join if you were either malnourished or living solely on steroids? ’Cause I did no get that memo. So I dragged my full-bodied self off the treadmill and decided that the treadmill was really not for me. I still had way too much time to think…clearly. I decided that next week I will try some other type of sport or exercise or movement.

This week while I was waiting to get over you I went to Sportsman's Warehouse and kitted myself out with everything related to the solo sport of swimming. ’Cause that is where I am at…solo. (Enter pic of me smashing a six pack of cupcakes in my face here). I spent way too much money…waaayyyy too much. I bought everything from a swimsuit to flippers, from goggles to that weird spongy thing that you have to squash between your legs while trying not to drown. And that is exactly what I did. I tried not to drown. I mean who can think of anything, or anyone else, when they are just trying to breath. Nope not me. I decided to take it slow. 10 lengths = 250m, boom, done, no need to push yourself. Umm 10 lengths were definitely pushing myself and by length 6, tiny children aged 3 started lapping me. Bastards. Maybe next week I should try something else…

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This week while I was waiting to get over you, I discovered that missing someone can be crippling and sneaky…sneakily crippling. One day you are doing fine and the next it ankle taps you so hard that you do a proverbial face plant in the middle of the day and then just find it easier to stay down. That grief is like a bloodhound, it follows you wherever you go, finding you when you least expect it and then staying at your side like a loyal companion. A bloodhound called Sadness. This week life felt stupid. This week I did not want to think - or pay attention to my bloodhound trailing my every move. So I kept swimming. ’Cause no one can see you crying in the pool and you cant think when you are drowning. Boom. win-win. Or whatever. Stupid week…

Me trying to work while sadness interferes — found pic on www.pinterest.com PEARS Ads

This week while I was waiting to get over you, I took my new companion Sadness for a walk and met a new friend, called Anger. Anger is not as loyal as Sadness. He comes and goes as he wishes. He is a sly fox and deceives you easily, twisting the truth just a bit more to the left or the right. But like Sadness and Apathy, Anger is scared of Isak Dinesen’s ability to cure all things with salt water and will not follow if you start sweating or crying (and obviously no sane being will follow you into the icy waters of Cape Town). So this week when Anger nipped at my heels with the utmost ferocity and Sadness got overly clingy, I hit the pool and I did my 10 laps and then 12 and I drowned again. But for the first time, in a long time, I was without any companions. It was just me. And I almost felt like saying: “There she is.” But as I left the pool, there sat good and trusty Sadness, giving me a weary but welcoming smile. But both Apathy and Anger were nowhere to be found…

This week while I was waiting to get over you…

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