Guess what, readers? I found him! He’d been with me all along. I didn’t need to post a profile online, go to speed dating, or join a dating service. I just had to open my eyes and see what was right in front of me!
You’re probably thinking, why is she miserable if she found her soul mate? That’s a great question! How about because we want different things out of life? I want to get married and he doesn’t. You may ask if they want different things, then how can they be soul mates? The answer is simple ... I just know! It’s as though my soul recognizes his and he’s admitted it’s the same for him.
But we’re not together. I’m all alone. Completely alone. Finding myself alone once again, I realized even with my soul mate, I couldn’t be happy.
I’m broken and need to be fixed.
I’ve spent so much time criticizing men for their behaviors without once examining my own. The time for self-examination has begun.
I believed God had chosen my soul mate. Now, I don’t even know if I believe in God anymore. After all, what kind of God would give me my greatest desire only to take it away? Can the man behind the curtain really help me?
CHAPTER 30
JULY 11, 2012
DETROIT, MICHIGAN
WEIGHT: WHO CARES?
STATUS: HEARTBROKEN
I had two days to wallow in my self-pity and misery. I spent them the only way I knew how. I suffered alone in my condo, isolated from the world with just Betty Crocker and Ben and Jerry as my faithful companions.
I didn’t call my parents to tell them I returned safe and sound. I didn’t check my cell phone messages or my work related messages. I let my phone ring and ring, never bothering to see who called or what they wanted.
I started watching a Buffy the Vampire Slayer marathon from the moment I came home from the airport. Two days later, I still watched, wishing I lived in a universe where a woman could have two sexy vampires lust after her and save the world on two hours of sleep.
I hadn’t showered or changed my clothes. I couldn’t sleep more than a few hours at a time, although I only got out of bed to get more food or go to the bathroom.
If I were a therapist, I would diagnose myself with depression. Oh wait, I was a psychologist! One that had to return to her clients the next day to sit and listen to them complain about their parents not giving them enough allowance and their friend stealing their boyfriend.
I didn’t want to deal with anyone or anything. I wanted to stay in my dark dungeon and wait for everything to stop hurting.
I had to go food shopping for more comfort foods like pasta and pizza. I showered, brushed my teeth and made myself appear somewhat presentable in case anyone happened to recognize me.
The sun hurt my eyes, sensitive to the light after spending two days in the dark. The air smelled like cut grass, pure and clean, and I felt something stir deep within me. I couldn’t identify it.
Then I saw a sign advertising that today was Cat Adoption day at the pet store. Instead of getting food, I turned into the parking lot of the pet store, racing inside.
I walked out an hour later with a cat I named Spock. I immediately felt somehow I was meant to adopt this cranky, fat cat. All the other cats up for adoption were cute and cuddly purring in my lap, but Spock hissed and growled. I took it as a sign he had been caged too long and needed his freedom. Besides, I think if I were a cat, I’d look just like him.
After setting up his litter box and bowls for water and food, I spent an hour researching about house cats. I determined that compared to a dog, caring for a cat seemed relatively easy.
Apparently, the researchers had never met a cat like Spock. He wouldn’t let me near him, spending his time underneath my bed hissing and running after invisible flying insects.
I woke the next morning with Spock purring in his sleep next to my head, his long tail whacking my face. When I shifted to pet him, he startled and ran back under the bed. Still, we were making progress.
I made a cup of coffee before realizing I had forgotten to eat dinner the night before. Instead of bingeing on sugary foods, I spent my time taking care of Spock.
Today, I returned to real life. I had my first client at three and I had plenty of return phone calls and paperwork waiting for me.
I had fifteen messages on my answering machine at work. A couple of the calls were from clients telling me they needed to reschedule their appointments.
Five of the calls were from my mother. First, she asked me to call her back to let her know how my trip went. My mother’s messages became increasingly more frantic as time passed and I hadn’t returned her call. The last message said she had talked to Caleb, who had informed her we had broken up at the airport. She figured out I had holed up in my condo and asked me to text her when I got into the office. She also told me to disregard the messages on my cell.