First Week of No Contact

I’d rather eat glass.

In the ongoing saga of my Stuck-At-Home-Because-You-Know-Comma-COVID story, I had extremely emotionally-charged emails and texts with Jon (a guy I had an affair with and fell in love but we ended things) last week. I’ve never seen him irate and the whole thing has me shaken. I can’t wrap my head around it.

I wasn’t contacting Jon. I left him alone. If he’s happy, then that’s great, I have no interest in being a negative element in his life. He contacted me. So here I am, back to No Contact.

Days 0 to 2

The initial days are rough.

Jon’s my heroin and I got a hit. I’m addicted to him and his fucking pheromones transcending through my screen.

Lots of knee bouncing. Lots of gritting teeth. Lots of tears. Lots of not breathing.

I overthink without my brain stopping the runaway thoughts. One of those painful thoughts throughout all this: from the moment I met Jon, I was the top love in his life. I always had the top spot. And now…I don’t. It’s a demotion.

I should be happy for our time and appreciate the memories, but that’s not how I roll. Would you rather think back to a slice of chocolate cake you once had or would you rather have chocolate cake today? But then, since things changed, I’m longing for a cake that may not exist.

I daze in and out of my thoughts. When I catch myself going overboard on thoughts, I mentally focus like a slap in the face. Lather, rinse, repeat.

If only I could lay in bed and have one solid good cry. But I can’t. I don’t need my kids coming in asking me what’s going on. I don’t need my quasi-ex-husband asking me either. So it builds up in pieces and I can’t process it. I think that’s why this is taking me so long. Well, aside that what I felt for him wasn’t the norm for me. They say the loss of a relationship is comparable to death. I just want to fucking grieve…and I can’t.

The worst part is that while I know Jon still cares, he isn’t sharing this experience. I’m trying to get over a heroin addiction. Jon gave up heroin, but he replaced it with cocaine instead of ending the first addiction. And cocaine provides comfort. And distraction. And an emotional connection.

I can’t say if cocaine provides a physical connection but for the sake of the example, that’s another comfort cocaine provides. I get it, in the long run it’s better to just get over the heroin and not substitute. I just hate that it’s not the same and that he’s not experiencing this. The only person I want to call to make it better is the one person I can’t.

I’m also having a harder time compared to other times because of the communication we had. I won’t go into detail (it’s too convoluted) but his incorrect assumptions pissed me off. What I predicted would happen in his love life is exactly what happened. I. Was. Right.

However, he made up a narrative about me that is wildly incorrect. And that angers me. Not only is Jon getting over this while in the arms of another person, but he did it by telling himself a series of lies about me. Plus, I learned that we didn’t stand a chance anyway.

After an incident a few months before our break up, he mentally figured we’d eventually break up. That’s heartbreaking that during the same time, I was thinking the complete opposite.

I feel really dumb. I feel like what I thought our relationship was ended up being something made up in my mind because he had a mental ticking time bomb on us.

Let me make it very clear: if she’s his person and they inevitably last 20 years, then I’m happy Jon was able to find her. Not everyone finds their person. So if his life reaches max personal fulfillment, then I’m grateful he was able to find that. I want to make that very clear: I’m not sitting here begging for him to come back right now (I’m not a fucking idiot and this isn’t how I’d want it). I want Jon to be sublimely happy. However, I also want this knife in my heart to go away.

Day 3

I wake up feeling much better. Maybe as a result of yesterday’s melodrama.

Running an errand, I grab a mask from my car. He had given it to me (the beauty of dating a surgeon: unlimited mask access). Had that been a few days ago, I might have bawled. Instead, I think “cool, a clean mask” and go about my day.

I get another reminder of him when cleaning up my Amazon wishlists. I made one for him because he asked me to pick out new clothes for him. I doubt Jon ever bought a single thing on the lists that I made. No tears or gritted teeth as I delete the wishlist.

Last week, I searched my Nordstrom shopping history and stumbled upon a sweater I got him. It’s a dope sweater, if they had it in my size I would have gotten it. Jon won’t wear it again since it’s part cashmere and he already runs warm like a furnace. My reaction to seeing that a few days ago crushed me. However, my reaction to the Amazon wishlist today is more positive than my Nordstrom reminder.

With the dust settling in my brain comes more realizations. I’m the one who always spoke up when I was upset or concerned (I can think of four different times) whereas last week’s email was the first time Jon ever initiated telling me he was upset. I always found out after the fact. It still makes me sad that he didn’t feel he could tell me things before they got out of hand.

Being able to voice when I’m upset is a huge deal for me. I’ve spent my marriage terrified to speak up to my husband. Even when I caught him doing horrible things, I still felt sick because I was scared of his reaction. Heck, I’m still scared of it. I’m capable now of telling my concerns to someone as long as I trust them.

All the more reason why my marriage had to end.

I’m cluing in more about how many of the things that were awesome between us weren’t random magic. It’s how Jon and I behaved. He was wonderful to me.

On my side, I became a better person than before I met him. I was so unbelievably loyal and I vowed never to crush him the way his two former loves had. It was important to me for Jon to never feel betrayed. This meant I felt more open when talking to him. I also didn’t overstep and become controlling (at least, I don’t think I did…he’s a business owner, I figure by default he knew how to take charge). I allowed myself to put trust in someone else as an equal partner instead of delegating.

The crying ends. It’s a relief. I sure as fuck couldn’t go even a week with that mental anguish and torment.

Day 4

Since knowing Jon, I’ve always fantasized about what “real life” would be like with him. Even bad or boring stuff. When I made breakfast, I imagined what it would be like waking up and making it for him after spending the night. This morning making breakfast, I’m not a weeping mess. Just a bit sad.

I’ve gained perspective in the past few months. Like figuring out my role in the ending of both of my relationships (at a deeper level). The kinds of things I need to start and stop doing in future relationships. I’m seeing why my quasi-ex-husband and I were utterly incompatible.

While I was still a dick and oftentimes too sarcastic for my own good, being with Jon taught me a lot about who I’m capable of being instead of the portrait painted of me from my marriage.

Two days ago, I whipped up a Tinder profile but forgot about it. Did you know it’s a full-fledged dating site now? I didn’t. I log back in to discover I have a million matches and messages. While I figured I could get guys easily just from showing my naked body on other sites (I closed my fetish site profile), I thought my age would only get me geriatric patients. I was mind-blowingly wrong. I make an effort to have conversations with roughly forty guys.

By 1:00 am, I call it quits. Unlike my past tendencies, I was 100% honest with every question asked. Even if that meant disclosing my whacky living situation. I asked for rainchecks to hang out because of COVID. Shockingly, every single guy agreed to wait. When they asked to text or chat, I told them that I had a stalker once and that I needed to feel more confident about them before giving my phone number. Again, every single one agreed.

This virus is a blessing in disguise. I don’t want to meet anyone new right now, even if the expectations are simply a cup of coffee. I wouldn’t anyone to meet me if they were still emotionally hung up on an ex. So it’s not fair to waste their time if I’m not in the right mindset.

Day 5

I log into Etsy and it recommends me something new from a shop where I bought a custom set of concrete initials for our little team name (yeah, we were cheesy like that. I regret nothing.). My brain isn’t ready to think that Jon has probably tossed that memento of us; I unfollow the Etsy shop.

Very grateful that this round of No Contact, I’m not curled up in a ball anymore at this point.

There was comfort in knowing his little internal conversations were with me. I loved hearing his thoughts first thing in the morning or when he took a break from surgery. Admittedly, that’s something I haven’t stopped doing on my end. Now that I’m cognizant of it, I’m learning to redirect those thoughts.

Day 6 to 7

My refractory rate at stabilizing my emotions after hearing from Jon has increased tenfold. If this were months ago, I would be typing this in my bathroom while on the floor in a crying mess.

I have my shit together.

This morning, I go for a walk with a friend. I remember how I used to get there early and park, texting Jon. I feel a tinge of sadness that I can no longer do that. But my brain doesn’t wallow.

At this point, I’m thinking of all the positives. All the ways Jon changed me for the better.

He motivated me to work out.

He motivated me to start writing here.

He indirectly forced me to identify my cheating triggers and how to prevent them in the future.

I learned that I can be loved without hearing every day about how the way I talk is the cause of someone else losing their shit.

My self-esteem skyrocketed.

I forced myself to have hard talks with my husband instead of staying silent in fear of his anger. I certainly wouldn’t have had the balls to end my marriage (to be clear: I ended my marriage after my breakup with Jon, not because of him).

There are dozens more, but you get the gist.

One week of No Contact. I thought it would be a full month of agonizing hell. It was two or three days of intense pain and then I got my brain back together. It might have been shorter if the email exchange hadn’t been emotionally-charged.

It gets easier over time. I’m back to the stage I was at before, where I’m glad Jon’s happy and he’s fulfilled in life. He’s the first person after a breakup that hasn’t made me want to make a voodoo doll (I also lack enough hair clippings). I’ll never stop thinking that we would make a formidable team, but the future is impossible to plan or speculate, even for a control freak like me.

Just trust the process. Onward.