A Conclusion to 7 Years of New Years

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Wow… what a month. Bear with me as I get a much needed, month late, chronicle off my chest.

It was New Years Eve, exactly one month ago today. I had not been feeling well, so I cancelled my plans to go out. This was an obvious sigh of relief for my newly single, anxious identity.

Unfortunately, my cancelled plans gave way to new plans–my boss asked me to watch his four year old daughter, so he could make good for for his NYE plans. (I’m not the type of person to say no, especially not to my boss–who is also a great friend and mentor).

Around 10 pm, my ex sent me a text–he had seen my car at my boss’s house. They were neighbors, because my boss and I were neighbors–before I decided to leave everything behind.

The ex and I had been fairly amiable through the holidays, for various reasons: I wanted to see my step-kids; he needed help with Christmas shopping; And I wanted to feel a bit of normalcy–during one of my deepest plunges into depression and my first Christmas’s alone.

“I have beer and crown if you guys want to run over there.” –Text from Ex

He meant “here” but was already shoulder deep in his drunken NYE endeavors. Within the hour, he made his way across the street, and with a tap tap tap on the fogged over, glass door, he appeared.

“Come in…” My heart sunk.

He smiled, as he stumbled up the two concrete steps, pulling himself through the doorway. He unzipped and displayed the inner pockets of his Carhart jacket(the one I’d bought him, 3 years earlier), and revealed 4 cans of Bud Light. From his rear jeans pocket he retrieved a silver flask of Crown. He was obviously proud of the fantastical feat because a large grin streaked his face.

We retreated to the garage and uncomfortably chatted about nothing and everything: the kids and the monotony of life, work, etc., while chain smoking Marlboro Light 100’s. Our brand. Drinking has a habit of encroaching on my attempts to smoke less, but mixed with the awkward timing of the evening, my health was disregarded. He handed me the flask and I noticed it was the one I’d given him for Valentines Day, on our first engagement anniversary, two years earlier.

Really, Dude?

It was nearly midnight when I took the last pull from the flask–desiring some relief from my ongoing anxious mindset. The whole thing was completely fucked!

Why was he still there?

At midnight, he requested the kiss. 

At midnight, my anxious inferiority endeavored.

And for a total of 3 times, I uncomfortably kissed the man I used to love.

Seven years earlier, we had our first NYE together. It was the best NYE of my life.

But as I’ve said in the past:

The depressed and anxious mind does not let the heart go off on wild tangents of irrational happiness.

NYE 2017 was the night I completely and utterly understood: I could never love him again.

It was all very broken.

But I wasn’t.

Not completely.

Better

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