I got to the barn and started to clean stalls, but my lack of focus stopped me and I did what any girl who's heart had just been torn out would do--I called him until he answered the phone. And again, all he could say was, "I'm sorry. I'm not coming back." Hysteria set in just as my trainer and friend entered the barn. I caught enough breath to tell her what happened and run out the door. I finally got my mom to answer the phone and cried tears I didn't know were possible. "Keep going Sarah, don't stop your routine. Go to work, go to the barn. Keep going." So that's what I did. I went to work and I cried. I cried in the car, I screamed at the windshield until I had no voice left. I managed to not cry in front of the kids, and my co-workers offered more support than I thought possible. I survived the first 24 hours only to come home to an empty house and an empty bed and reminded of the hurt and anger that fueled the sadness.
So I wrote. I wrote a blog on myspace about the things he'd done to me while we were together. How he'd posted naked pictures of himself on the internet, looking for strangers to comment and tell him how hot and how big he was. And how those pictures were taken on our couch. How he'd started a sexual email relationship with some asian woman he met on one of those websites. How of all his female friends, the one I repeatedly told him I didn' trust or like, he decided she was the one he'd post pictures of him finger down the back of her jeans, showing off her thongs with comments implying they'd slept together later. How I supported him through 8 months of unemployment, sacrificing my own financial stability and name in order to help him save his own. Only to be cheated on in return. His family and friends could see my blog, which made me glad. They should know what he was really like. Only someone told him about it, so I got a guilt email. Essentially, manipulating me to take it down or he'd no longer talk to me. So I did. I should have been stronger and said no. But I wasn't.
He swore we could be friends, he swore we'd get through all of this and still be able to talk. I, so blinded by my love for him and the possibility of losing him, said ok, whatever it takes. I should mention a lot of these discoveries were made because he would leave his email open. During our first year together was when I discovered his first round of naked pictures on my couch, laying the ground of lack of trust. So it only perpetuated from there.
This was my lowest of lows during our breakup, although he'd probably chime a different tune. He left a note on my desktop with his email password and I found it. So I opened his email only to find an email between him and a girl I knew to be a good friend bad mouthing me, talking about how crazy I was, what a bitch I was, how stupid I was for having friends say my horse is the only man I can count on, and oh how "heartbroken" she was because I deleted her on myspace as a friend. Lie after lie from him, about things I hadnt said or done, or things I'd said in private. And then a picture of her cleavage. She was one of his friends the entire time we were together and never did I feel threatened by her. She was over 300lbs when we first started dating, but even after she lost half that, I never thought her to be a problem. Her sister, maybe. They did after all makeout a few times...I wonder if she ever found that one out? Probably not.
Anyways, I lost my cool and called him out on his lying, only to be discovered and again accused of being crazy. Crazy isn't what I am or was; heartbroken and more angry than anyone could think possible. And numb. There wasn't an ounce of feeling in my entire body, and if I did start to feel, it was only earth shattering pain.
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