RSS Feed

Tag Archives: ex

“And it’s so hard to do, and so easy to say. But sometimes, sometimes you just have to walk away” – Ben Harper

Up until today, my plan to cope with my heartbreak has been going pretty shitty.Three cheers for me.

I’ve been attending a crash course training for work. By the 10AM coffee break, the aching in my chest turns breakfast into an up chuck reflex.

Confirmation: semi-digested cereals are a disgusting sight.
Visual aid: one morning it was coco pops. You’re welcome.

I have never had my heart broken. I always wondered why people could not move on. Now I know.

The pain stems from the fact that you are now un-linked from each other. It grows from the slash that person leaves when they rip you away cold turkey from the chunk of common life you both had. The blood is in subtle things, like knowing someone accepted you despite your flaws and a guaranteed person to lean on during tough times. It’s throwing up in a bathroom at a training center and my first instinct is to call him. At some other point in time, he would have cared this was happening to me and he would have made it okay. Except, I’m throwing up because of him and he doesn’t care anymore.

“You hurt me.”

How I wish that could still mean something to him when I am the one saying it. A three word sentence to try to convey an emotional pain so intense it translates to physical ache and bile. He left me a few days before Christmas through jumbled text messages about how we should go our separate ways. Since then, I froze in a mix of break and denial.

I drove myself to tears, repeatedly, hating everything that ever made me who I am.
My hair. My laugh. My size. My voice. My lips. My clothes. My feet.
All of me.

It got to the point where I hated my name because I felt it no longer reflected who I had become. Everyone around me seemed to be using it to refer to a more complete person I once was and that had long gone missing.

I went on believing that at any moment he was going to come back and tell me how my absence in his life mattered.  I got off work every day only to scan the faces of strangers under the office searching for the comfort of his features. In some of the less rational places of my mind, I had whispered to myself that he’ll be there one day, waiting for me with his boyish smile and his warm hands. It wasn’t something I was aware I was doing. It wasn’t a logical thought process. My eyes just searched deliriously. Maybe my subconscious self destructed too.

Then he got with that pouty Boobzella.

I lost even more sleep, weight and whatever remained of my ability to be good company.

But the tiniest spark lit up in my soul today, one  for me to live again. I want to feel okay with being myself again. My turning point was earlier this morning. I got sick at training, again. I wash up and pinch my cheeks to add a little life to a sunken face. On my way back to the course, I caught sight of a girl in a side mirror. It took my brain half a second to recognize it was me, but I had already thought to myself “god, she looks miserable.” And I do. I look like shit. I am a sad, faded outline with sunken eyes.

I finally saw what everyone else had been seeing. I have been walking around looking like the misery train hit me right in the face. Me… I used to be bubbly and giggly and energetic. I would be buzzing around my day wearing the brightest colored clothes instead of my current monochrome selections.

The pity fest is not who I am, and I want to be me again. Even if it is someone he no longer wanted, I want to find myself again. For no better reason other than I miss the peace of my mind that comes with knowing and accepting yourself.

Advertisements

“The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had.” – Gary Jules

I just want to be able to sleep again.

That is all.

To sleep, without falling into memories. To wake up to an alarm clock, no matter how shrill, instead of the sound of my own crying.

To no longer look so old and drained.

I just want a normal night’s sleep. That state where you are neither alive nor dead, just unaware of whatever your reality is.

If you are reading, I hate you for the pain you have inflicted to the furthest corners of my mind where I should be able to retreat and regroup.  You sneak into my subconscious while I toss and turn trading sanity for sleep.

I hate you for everything you ever were to me, every burnt memory replaying behind eyes forced shut, every color you once added to my life- I hate you because I cannot hate you at all.

I used to tell him he was the blood in my veins, the beat to my heart. Horribly enough he still is.

“Will I ever laugh again?” – Carrie Bradshaw, Sex and the City

After Big doesn’t show up to their wedding in Sex and The City 1, a completely depressed Carrie asks her girlfriends: “Will I ever laugh again?”

I love that quote. If any sentence could ever describe a person’s emotional state after they have been left, it is that one. And I have been asking myself that same question a lot these days.

Out here in the real world, happy endings are a little rarer to come by.

I don’t have Manolo Blahnik’s, Jimmy Choo’s or Louis Vuitton’s in my closet to soak up some of the pain. Forget the labels, I don’t even have the luxury of time to indulge in a heart broken depression.

Some of us quite literally need to earn their living.

You can do it all to forget. Send your emails, go to your meetings and put on the best forced smile ever. When it is time to come home, you still end up curled on a couch consumed by thoughts of him and her until the next morning.

And I really do ask myself, will I ever laugh again?

My very own Mr Big, known as RS, has moved on to another after leaving me, no explanations given, on Christmas eve.

Some days have been easier than others. Even full weeks have sometimes been easier than others.

But I always crawl back to the pain. I relapse into unanswered questions and sleepless nights.

I wonder, over and over and over, to the point where it is almost an obsession, I wonder: will the day come where I will stop trying to forget because I simply would not remember?

And will I ever forgive him?