It's weird, this feeling after a breakup of being totally discombobulated. Language is leaving me, as at least I thought Annie Lennox sang at some point, though she might in fact have sung something completely different as this was back in the day when I knew most English language lyrics only phonetically.
Being on my own, I really feel lost for words. I guess you might have to know me in person to know what a monumentous statement that actually is. I am the girl that talks. I occasionally listen if I get paid to do so, but usually words just pour out of me until most people wish it had stopped a long time ago.
But now, I can't find them. I don't feel like talking, I don't feel like writing. I know I am not very good at emotion. As my best friend said as I was visiting her and her kids at Easter, I talk about my feelings a lot, but I don't really express them.
I haven't cried for over a week. It is odd. I am sure there are tears there, just behind my eye sockets, lurking in my sinuses maybe, just waiting to be cried. But they don't come. Like the words, they seem stuck.
Maybe a breakup throws you back to some pre-verbal stage of grief or confusion. You have to go though the developmental stages again at breakneck speed (physical withdrawal at your needs no longer being met ==> terrible twos and anger ==> learning new stuff at school age ==> Ready to fall in love again head over heels like a teenager ==> Mature relationship. Hopefully).
I don't know when I'll learn to put together sentences properly again, with more than two words in them. I keep dropping out mid-sentence at the moment. But things are progressing. This week, I'm painting the entryway. Next week, talking again.