Where are the tears?

All day yesterday, I held back tears. I'm surprised I was so successful in holding back, because I was only working on four hours of sleep. It's amazing what one can do when one really tries.

I counted the hours until I could go home - not so much to get some rest, but mostly so I could cry. After I clocked out, I couldn't get to my car fast enough, for I knew I could cry in my safely and loudly in the car. However, on the drive home the tears didn't come. My eyes did get watery a few times, but no real tears. So, then I counted on having time to cry at home.

I wasn't able to, though, because shortly after I walked through the door, Todd came downstairs and started getting dinner together for the both of us. He had gone to the store and bought us both salads, because he wanted to have dinner with me. When I asked why, he said "because I enjoy having dinner with you."

Is that true or not? Maybe. Maybe not. One thing I've learned, though, and should have come to expect is that every time we call it off (well, that makes it sound like it happens a lot - basically, we've been on two breaks and there were about three other times I tried to make a break of it during our 9 years together, but he convinced me that he loved me, so I stayed) he is extra attentive.

Yesterday, he called me about three times at work to make sure I was okay. Then he bought us dinner. Instead of forcing me to take a cat over to my new place (he's dying to get rid of the cats), he seemed to realize that I really needed some sleep, so instead of bugging me, he encouraged me to go to bed early.

But back to my tale of tears...Lucky for me, he had an Asperger's meeting that night, so when he left, I thought "Finally. Time to cry." But those tears I had been holding back all day and all during dinner did not come.

I went to bed around 7 p.m., thinking that once I was curled up in the safety of my bed, I would be able to let loose.

I was not able to.

Where are the tears? Why won't they come?

If I could just have one, good, solid cry, I could begin the arduous task of moving on.