Spill it

I haven't written on my blog in months, but I've had an itching desire to do so all day. My life feels influx right now and part of me wants to capture what I'm experiencing.
I'm old enough to know that whatever happens, life will go on and if doesn't go on, that's okay, too. I realized the other day that when I die, I will hopefully be reunited with my father. That would be awesome — not that I want to die anytime soon — but there is something reassuring about that realization.
I had the chance to spend time this weekend with a dear friend who had moved away six months ago.  She is hoping to move back to the area soon, but around the time she left, another close friend also moved.  I've had three new roommates come and go in my flat in the last six months and another is about to leave in a little more than a month.
This year started off with what seemed at the time like a bang. I traveled to Mexico for Christmas and had the singular experience that only visiting Huejuquilla provides: surrounded by family, experiencing a world foreign and familiar at the same time, the sense of being somewhere where time assumes another form of measurement — the visit seems to fly by, but every moment feels abundant.
After that, I ended up making a stop in Mexico DF with my sister, who I have missed dearly since she transferred to work in DF, and then off to Nicaragua for a close friend's wedding. The wedding itself was beautiful, but the best part was hanging out with my group of friends, making connections with new friends and enjoying an awesome party with dozens of people who all had the same mindset: drink and be merry to celebrate our cherished friends.
In the months since that trip, my sense of joy and optimism for the future remains, but it has certainly taken a several hits. During my vacation, I strengthened my resolve to rekindle and solidify the turbulent romantic relationship I'd been in for close to two years. This decision felt purposeful one day  in Nicaragua, when I took a local bus by myself to a beach town where my friend's parents were worried I might be abducted or mugged (they were being over-cautious for me). Luckily, I was not a victim of any criminal behavior, but did have a chance to eat $10 lobster, stare out into the ocean, feel a hot sun in January and make the decision that I wasn't ready to give up — this love was too precious and important for me not to fight for it. I felt ready to open myself to a new possibility.
Here we are in mid-June and that possibility fully disintegrated. I could easily reduce it down to "it just didn't work out," a phrase I told my therapist sounds passive-aggressive, vague and deceptive. What is "it"? Is a relationship not simply two people making decisions? You only need one person to decide it's done and just like that, game over. So, I don't want to use that line as the headline for this experience. "He gave up on me," might be more fitting. But my main question right now is, when am I going to feel better?
I've flushed through the typical emotions: anger, sadness, jealousy, despair. I've even given myself the usual post-breakup pep talks: You're going to be okay, This doesn't mean your the world's biggest failure or loser, You're still a valid person, Maybe this is a blessing in disguise, Everything happens for reason, etc. Then there's the part of me that says, just forget it ever happened. Leave the crying to babies.
Basically, I've been cycling lots of crap through my brain lately and none of it seems to help. It's like devouring junk food when what you really want is a filling, lean piece of meat.
On one hand, feeling sad will not fix or accomplish anything and on the other hand, how could I not be sad, we're talking about a hugely significant relationship and person?
This is when I let out a big sigh and feel helpless and empty. Words and logic are not curing me fast enough, but what did I expect, that love — gained or lost — would ever be simple?