Just about two weeks ago I was forced to see something that I'd been successfully (or unsuccessfully) ignoring for sometime now. In the midst of a mini meltdown (full tears & ranting & all), I was forced to see my reflection. At the moment I'm not trying to be philosophical at all. I really do mean that someone made me see myself.

Being emotionally thrashed for the umpteenth time, I boarded an elevator. Replaying all the times before, when I'd been in the same situation, feeling the same way, again angry with myself for AGAIN forgetting or ignoring all those other times and setting myself up once again. I cursed me for being stupid, and for forgiving, and for analyzing, and making excuses, believing, trusting & most of all loving. How did I eff-up again, and end up dealing with this shit AGAIN???? Was I addicted to this feeling? Did I secretly crave pain & rejection? Was I trying to build up my writer's street cred? Or was this my self-imposed punishment for my sins of the past? "What was I thinking?" I cried, again.

Silently and simultaneously, crying & cursing myself, I tried to direct my escape from my latest emotional fuck-up. In a sliver of a second, I exited my own internal drama and heard someone else's on display. As a transplanted New Yorker, I've now abandoned my mid-western roots of responding to random strangers' rants, ravings and issues on the street. I've learned that for the most part, you mind your business. You'd be surprised what you can ignore on the streets or subway, once you've been trained by the lunatics!

Anyway, as I put a pause on my own mini-drama, I noticed this girl, probably early 20's across from me on the elevator. She was on when I got on, which I thought was strange because there are only two floors. I noticed she was intentionally facing the back of the elevator wall & crying. As I entered I remember thinking, "why is she here & not getting off?" Not my business! I got on and back to my meltdown. Her tears and whimpering interrupted my thoughts.

Without thinking, probably compelled by an extreme case of PMS & an emotional break, I asked was she alright? Strangely, in NYC, that simple question can bring all sorts of inappropriate or uncomfortable responses. Not this time though. She told me that she was waiting for her Ex-boyfriend who was supposed to pick her up. She said that she'd told him that she was there waiting and that he'd said that he was on his way, but that she was still waiting. And then she let out another cry again, almost out of exhaustion. She then thanked me for asking, and seemed too relieved to say out loud how she was feeling. At that point I wanted to cry too. I told her I was sorry & that I hoped things worked out. What ever that means. She thanked me once again, and I exited the elevator that I'd been holding open as we talked.

Taking the escalator to the next level, I was startled by what had just happened. That girl was me (10 years ago). I'd been in that same stupid situation 200 times in the past 10 years or so. There she was trusting (depending on) someone, she already knew she couldn't or shouldn't count on, trust-LOVE. I mean, he was her Ex-boyfriend, and there she was AGAIN, trusting him to come through for her, when he couldn't before on at least one occasion, that's why he was an Ex.

At 34, I should know better. And I did, but again I'd done it anyway. During my long journey home I tried to sort through everything. The only resolution I could come to was that I needed some sort of rehabilitation program. I needed something to help me move past all of this. I just wanted it to be over! I've looked with other heartaches and breaks, there is no clinic for getting off love! An no amount of chocolate, sex or wine makes an of the pain any easier.

Whenever I think of heartbreak I'm reminded of one of my favorite lines from Memoirs of a Geisha, "The heart dies a slow death, shedding each hope like leaves. Until one day there are none." I feel like the only way to get past THIS, is to let it die and hope that something new can grow there again one day. Since the leaves aren't falling fast enough for me I'm doing my best to snatch them off the branch! Hopefully, lots of sad music and an iPod help speed up the process.

Until.