Most days I’m fine and can go about my day as an ace journalist (I would like to think that I am) and not mind that gaping hole somewhere in my chest.

But there are days that are just pure basura and those normally are during my period so I attribute basura moments to hormones going haywire. Last week was the worst for the month. I had two nights straight of dreaming about him and the circumstances of the dreams were not as benign as the dreams I had in the past. The recent dreams were really hurtful that left me emotionally incapacitated for days.

So it seems like I haven’t squeezed my grief dry and it seems like it will stay for quite some time. And I shouldn’t run away from it because the more I entertain this delusion that I am already fine, the more the wound hurts deeply. That I was just masking it.

I don’t understand why I am still grieving when I know I shouldn’t long for someone who doesn’t long for me, shouldn’t think about somebody who doesn’t think about me. I don’t know why I am still like this when I already know that I was and would always be on the losing end when I was with him and if I were still with him because he doesn’t love me and will never do because he has moved on. I don’t understand why I’m still hurting when I know life is much freer now that I have one less person to worry about and care for, especially when he is unhappy and I had to make sure things are wrinkle-free for him to make things easier for him, even if he bit my head off. That his worries were my worries, his hurts were my hurts, and his failures were my failures. I don’t understand why I am still sad about everything when I know he didn’t even value me. I know I am better off without him.

I may never figure it out. What I should strive for is to get out of this grief. But it seems like time is the only answer to this because rushing this process is only pulling me two steps back. All my attempts in that direction always end up with me falling flat on the ground. This is just something you can’t snap out of, so it seems.

So for the time being, I should just learn how to survive those garbage days and coast along. So one weekday I just felt like having Korean barbecue and vodka for lunch to make me feel better. Just because I can.

And made chocolate chip ice cream in between writing, to make me feel better.

I thought six months would be enough, that I would snap out of this. It turns out I’m being really hard on myself. So I just have to cut myself some slack and not scold myself for feeling this way.

All in good time. This will soon pass.