There have been 543 calendar days since [Redacted] and I last spoke.

I say that in the way someone addicted to drugs might talk about the last time they had a hit because sometimes it feels that way. Like I was addicted to his attention. Addicted to the high of being seen by him.

In those 543 days a lot has happened. I’ve been on a few dates, had a misguided hookup, and restarted therapy. I have spent a lot of time agonizing over the past and trying to find a path forward. And I thought that I was over it. I mean it was nearly 2 years ago that I last saw him. I was never his girlfriend, we didn’t even sleep together, and I don’t think about what happened anymore. I thought that I was over it.

But over the weekend I saw him tagged in a mutuals instagram post and I was back in that place. Suddenly I was 21 and angry. At the sight of him I felt physically ill. Turns out, the horse that I was convinced I had killed was still very alive, I had just been ignoring it.

But ignoring him didn’t fix me. It didn’t take away all the hurt and pain. Pretending that what happened wasn’t shitty and that he didn’t hurt me made me feel no better. I am objectively… not over it.

But I want to be. I want to see his face without feeling like I’ve been shot. I don’t want the possibility of seeing him to strike feelings similar to being hunted for sport.

Especially when it’s clear that he’s over it. That he’s past it.

So what does it take to do that? How do you get past something that felt so real and intense? How do you bury the metaphorical horse so it can no longer get to you? I’ve tried a couple of things now and I want to share my thoughts on whether or not I think it worked. Here are my thoughts and whether or not I think they worked.

1. Dating Other People

When I first went crazy over this buffoon, some pretty consistent advice I got about getting over him revolved around the idea that to get over one man, all I needed to do was get under a new one. I tried this! I went out, had a few NCMO’s (non committal make-outs), and went on dates. But I found myself comparing all other prospects to him. Both good and bad qualities.

The basketball man was taller, but he didn’t make me laugh as hard. Coast Guard Weirdo was overly freaked out in a way [Redacted] never was, but the engineer had better taste in music. [Redacted] became a measuring stick on which I compared everyone else.

In some ways, that's a good thing. Compliments on my appearance never did much for me. Since puberty I had people telling me I had a fat ass and a pretty smile, so getting hit on wasn’t out of my ordinary. But it never got further than that. People wanted to ‘link’ with me. Not take me out. So when [Redacted] took me on dates, held my hand in public, and called me all sorts of loving names, it gave me a feeling I had no name for. After 21 years being the kind of girl boys only loved at night, he was proof that I had more to offer than a hookup.

Dating other people: 2/5

2. Therapy

Therapy has probably been the best thing for helping me get past this mess. I’m not totally ok but I’m figuring out why it hurts so bad. Turns out it was never really about him!

I was obsessed with the fictional future I had created and all the possibilities that came with it.

That’s what he was to me. Proof that I could be wanted as more than a quick hit. He was the proof of possibility. After watching my parents' marriage fall apart, and my dads second marriage blow up so spectacularly, love was scary to me. But [Redacted] made it easy.

I’ve spent my last couple therapy sessions working through this. How what happened back then was really about my childhood. Working this through with my therapist has been really helpful but there are still some sessions that end with me feeling more raw than when they started. There are still some wounds I need to keep stitching together.

Therapy: 4/5

3. Talking to my sisters

They actually hate him more than I do and everytime we talk about it we find a new way to beat the horse.

Talking to my sisters: 5/5

When I think about that time I start to feel really embarrassed. I hate thinking about how I became someone I didn’t recognize. All the ways I made myself small and sweet. I was quiet and anxious. I felt awful all of the time but I was somehow convinced that it would all work out. After all it felt like we had been through WAR together. And I figured all the ups and downs would make us stronger in the end. Like it was all just a prologue to the great big love story we would tell our kids. When in reality… I didn’t know his middle name. Or how he took his coffee. I didn’t know his phone number or which sport he preferred. Truthfully, the only thing we really had in common was that neither of us liked me very much.

I was stupid and young. And I believed this was the best I was ever going to get. I know now this is untrue. I was deluded, insecure, and very possibly crazy.

I want to think that I’m not anymore. I want to think that I have a better view of myself. That I know more than I did back then.

More than anything, I want to get over it. What happened and how it hurt me. I hope that this post is the last time I give him my attention. That putting it out into the open frees me somehow. I want that stupid ass horse dead FOR GOOD!

There have been 543 calendar days since [Redacted] and I last spoke. And I pray he gets everything he wants out of life. But more than that, I pray I never have to know about it.

Jai Tries: Getting Over It

Jai Tries: Solo Adventures