Why does healing have to take so damned long?
Part of me doesn't want to write about it, the other half says I need to write it all out so I can get one more piece of myself healed by letting it out and letting it go.
It's one of those evenings, I cooked dinner and flipped through the channels on TV to find something to watch while I ate, and I happened upon the Julia Roberts' film "Sleeping With The Enemy". Oy, what a film for me to watch, huh?
One thing overwhelmed me watching it, the character of a man who presses his will upon others. You know who it reminded me of. I got ill when the classical music started to play (which the ex was big on too), but then another scene came up and there's the guy wearing khaki pants and a silk shirt which reminded me of how the ex used to dress, a myriad of colors of polo shirts all over khaki pants.
When I went to San Diego with my parents during the summer, I sat up in a restaurant that overlooked the water and down amongst the shoppers was a tall man dressed in a polo shirt and khaki pants. I immediately became ill at the sight. There is just something about that look that now inspires mistrust and a complete feeling of revulsion.
I don't know what it is...that I spent hours trying to find the right size khaki pants for the man, only to find a pair and seeing him turn his nose up at it, or the time I spent looking for the right combination of colors for the polo shirts that would make him happy, then spending hours ironing both shirt and pants so he looked decent...only to have him turn his nose up again at my efforts.
I know that when I see the combination of khaki's and polo's, it reminds me of him. It reminds me of how I got stepped on for years and did nothing to stop it. I can only look at men who wear those types of clothes now with an overwhelming amount of anxiety, disgust and mistrust.
After I saw the men in San Diego wearing clothes like that, I tried to find the nutritional value that not all men who wear those types of clothes are evil or horrible...but then just now, watching television, I couldn't get over it, I got sick to my stomach and I couldn't handle it. It's been almost two years. I should be past this, but I'm still not, and that leaves me anxiety-ridden and frustrated.
I guess it's like Text Messaging. I'm not a text person...especially since that's how both my sister and I found our husbands cheating on us. So I guess it's just one more thing I find traumatic and completely unnecessary to look at. I know that when I see men wearing a bright orange polo and khakis, I just turn my head away and almost break into a flat-out run to get away from them.
I'm at the point where I just want to get over it. I just want it gone already. I want this incessant pain in my chest to just go away and never come back. I want to forget all about polo shirts, khaki pants, the shoes he wore, the workout clothes, all of it. But every time I see some guy walking along in his khakis and polo shirt, I want to just throw up. The sight makes me take a step backwards instead of forward and I need to be moving forward, not back. There has got to be a way to somehow disassociate the two things but I just don't know how yet.
Today I changed my facebook profile photo. It was actually a photo from my birthday a few years ago. Why am I so off-center in the picture? I had to crop the ex and his red polo shirt out of the picture. It's an ok picture of me, but it was bizarre, when I saw the photo of the two of us together, he might as well have been a complete stranger I was sitting and smiling with.
It's days like today where you sit and ask yourself, "How am I going to get over this?"
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