another Christmas

without you. God only knows why, but I didn't think it would be like this, even with everything you said and everything I knew. My heart aches.

my wish

is that you contact me this Christmas.

this is what I see

"Look at all these people
Doin' all their things
Goin' all their places
Dreamin' all their dreams.

Look at all their faces
Smilin' through their pain
Cryin' through their heartache
Pushin' through their shame."

all I want for Christmas ...

is you.

please, please, please

I'm begging you. Can I please have my heart back now.

silly me

I'm watching a Dr Phil segment on relationships! Why would I do that? And ouch, home truths. I find it very difficult to face the truth that you're 'just not that into me' and that to keep a man you have to 'not need them'.

Of course I need you. And of course I can live comfortably and happily (well, as soon as the grieving process has run it's course) without you. So I can need you and yet I can live without you. It's just that I don't want to live without you. It's not the choice I'd make if I had any control over the choice. My choice would be to love you, live with you, have a happy, simple life. To have the kind of love that's as rare as anything could be rare.

Anyway, I shouldn't watch these shows!

god

I miss you.

one year and two weeks

and I still long to be in your arms every day.

I honestly just don't know how to let you go. How to make a life for myself without you in it.

take care

of my heart.

I left it with you.

and I miss ...

tasting marshmallows.

I miss ...

Kissing in the rain.
Rolling in the sand.
Getting naked under waterfalls.
Cuddling on the couch.
Talking in bed.
Watching you cook.
Long walks by the ocean.
Daylight rendevous.
You.

I'll be waiting

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HVqkfV1WDDg&feature=related

God how I wish I could just send this link to you.

one year

Today.

All of the times you retreated, I followed you. You always said that if I'd waited long enough you'd have come out of your cave and found your way back to me, but I never waited long enough. I always beat you to it. This time, I've waited and waited for a whole year, but you never came.

With the softest of hearts, I surrender.

a novel

Until just some weeks ago, I haven't been able to listen to music, watch movies, or read books. It's enough that there are so many memories triggered by simple things - catching a bus, going to the supermarket, seeing an ad in the paper, a ferry trip. Music and movies and books are designed to evoke emotion, longing, memories, and I honestly haven't been able to face those until recently. I'm still not, truthfully, but I must keep focussing on the life ahead, so of late, I've tried.

I read a novel over the last week or so. So much of it broke my heart.

"This was love. The now and forever kind that up to this point she'd only read or dreamed about, hoping that one day it might happen to her, but with each passing year having less expectation that she would be one of the lucky ones. But, whatever happened now,  her life would never be the same. If she never saw him again she might go on to find happiness or sorrow, but she knew that life would never be complete away from this one man with whom she had fallen so desperately in love."

"She was wondering what he would think if she told him the truth, told him that he was the one man she would ever love. Would he laugh at her? Or be angry or embarassed?"

"To be rejected by him would be unbearable, so it would be better not to try. But not to try, to let her chance for supreme happiness slip through her fingers from fear of failure, would be even more unbearable."

And so you see why I haven't been able to listen to music, watch movies, or read books. Too many reminders of us.

You have my love x

did you

ever go to the cooking class? You know, the one I sent you for Christmas last year? I wonder. I hope so, I think you would have enjoyed it.

every day

for a year, I've thought of you (many times), missed you, loved you.

Every single day.

I wish you would tell me that you don't love me. I know you shouldn't have to tell me, it's pretty obvious, right. But I need to hear it because my heart doesn't want to let you go, and I don't want to go through another year like this. I don't even know if I can.

on Monday ...

... we'll have been broken up one year. I'm so sad. I'm planning to have a quiet, gentle weekend and to think a lot about where to from here.

I'll probably never understand why things have happened the way they have. It will probably always hurt. I'll probably always worry about you and wonder if you're OK. Maybe I'll just have to accept that this is the way it is, that I'll always wonder and worry.

And I'll always miss you. And I'll always wish things were different. I'll always love you.

actually

I wouldn't be giving anything up. Swapping the life I have now for a simple, happy life with you and the kids would be trading up. It would be magic.

what would I prefer

I'm away at the moment, at a work conference. Lots of inspiring thought leadership about the ways advancements in technology will impact customer service and dispute resolution. A big think tank with pretty dynamic people.

I'd rather be with you. I'd rather have a simple, contented life with my man (yep, you) and my family. I'd give up the work and the 'stuff' to be with you and have that life.

dating

Nope, not for me. Thought about it. Can't do it.

I shall keep my heart locked up and find other ways to fill in my time.

a lot of love

My heart's still all full up with love. Not sure what to do with it, to be honest.

It only has one home.

and ...

Will I ever hear from you again? Ever?

[God, imagine if I don't. Not ever? I'm not even sure how I would compute that.]

wondering

These are the questions that have been bouncing around in my mind today.

If I died tomorrow, would you be at peace with the way you've handled things since we broke up? Would you have any regrets? Would you wish you'd had more time and that you'd done things differently?

If we hadn't met the way we did, if you didn't get to learn about my heart and my spirit the way you did before you saw me in person, and we just happened to pass each other in the street one day, would you have found me attractive?

Did you ever know how much I loved (love) your hands? Big, strong, broad, powerful man hands. I miss them.

How did you stop loving me so quickly?

Why did you read my messages without telling me? Do you recognise that's not a very kind thing to do?

Would it surprise you to know I miss your Mum? We were just getting to know each other.

How do you feel about me these days? Indifferent? Repulsed? Frustrated? Amused? Annoyed? Something else?

Do you find my enduring love for you pathetic?

There's no pattern or rhythm. Some days my mind is just full of questions.

233 days

so 100 days was a little optimistic it seems :)

and in the meantime

if we can ever just talk, that would be wonderful.

I don't need to talk about us and what happened or what could happen. I just want to know you're OK and the kids are OK.

Writing here is a help still. Not as much as the emails with the little psychological trick I played on myself, but helpful still. I hope soon I can let go of the writing too.

the truth is ...

... I think, that if you're ever ready to come back to us, I'll still be here waiting for you.

crumbs

To be honest, it feels as though you've tossed me a crumb. Not a good feeling.

Lesson learnt - careful what I wish for :(

Getting that message from you has really stirred things up for me. I'm thinking, feeling, hoping, wondering, wanting again. I just have to ride it out I guess, until it passes. I keep imagining you sending me a message one day that says "can we talk?". I'd reply simply with "yes". Who knows, maybe one day ...

I haven't been able to listen to music since we broke up. I haven't listened to one song all the way through, not once. I've been places with music on in the background but I've mostly tuned it out, or just let it become white noise. Music is something so special I shared with you. I'm not sure if you felt that way about it, but I certainly did. And I haven't been able to listen to it because it hurt too much. I listened to one song all the way through today, and even sung along with it (badly, of course :))

We shared such stunning passion, or at least I believe we did. Do you believe we did? Or do you look back and see it as all a bit ordinary? I wonder.

was there ...

any feeling behind your message? I've thought about it a lot and I honestly can't tell.

when ...

... I got your message, my heart did skip a beat. And I wanted more. I wanted it to mean that the door's open and you're ready to reconnect with me - on any level. But you're not are you.

Your message was either an act of pity, or an act of kindness. Whatever it was, it's all that you're offering, isn't it.

Ouch.

giving up

I honestly think I'm so worn out from the last year, I just don't feel much anymore. I give up. No more hoping, wondering, wishing. No more fretting over what you think about me, or how I might have hurt you. I want some peace too.

of course

it doesn't change anything. I love you.

angry and hurt

Why would you do that? Why would you let me keep writing, thinking it was anonymous, 'speaking' freely because I thought I was safe, and all the time you were reading my messages? Do you never think you have something to apologise for? You should apologise for this. What was your motivation?

I'm hurt and humiliated. The things you read in my messages - I'd have shared any or all of them with you if we were still in a loving relationship. But we're not, so why would I want you to know those things about me, to have more reason to think poorly of me?

How am I supposed to make sense of this? At the end of August you sent me a message saying not to ever contact you again and that as usual I just did whatever I wanted to do. Saying that was mean and untrue but I accept that's how you feel. And then you read a month's worth of my online diary without telling me you had access to it (how could you do that?!), and then suddenly I get a kind and thoughtful happy birthday message from you.

I want to treasure that message. I want to believe it means you have a little bit of good feeling towards me. I want to feel happy about it - and I will, because  my natural instinct is to be grateful. But honestly, knowing that you were reading my messages and didn't have the courtesy to tell me, knowing what prompted you to send my birthday message, it's hard to feel anything other than humiliated.

nice, but ...

When I was writing in my emails that it would be wonderful if you happened to contact me on my birthday, I never thought you would be reading them. I was hoping (in that tiny place in my heart that can't stop hoping), that you might contact me out of the blue. It's lovely that you did contact me, really, truly, just lovely. What an astonishing surprise and the nicest thing.

I wish it hadn't been in response to my emails though. I wish it had been a spontaneous, heartfelt thing, because you feel something for me.

It feels like you've taken pity on me. If you have, I don't need that. I have wanted your love and I've wanted your forgiveness. I've never wanted your pity. I hope you don't pity me. I've fought hard for us, for what I think is right, and for me - for me to make it through. I have a lot of strength and pride and while I would have given just about anything at times for some tenderness and kindness, I never want to be seen as a lost and weak soul that should be pitied and pandered to.

I don't think that was what you were doing, and I really hope it wasn't.

Even writing this is a reminder that I'm strong. Writing is excellent therapy for me, and I'm very grateful for that.

horribly, horribly embarassed

I'm pretty rattled right now. I've been 'writing to you' at an old email address of yours, which I thought was defunct from when you cancelled your internet. It had the impact of letting me feel like I was talking to you without actually imposing myself - my thoughts and feelings and questions - on you. Except I was, because it turns out you were getting the emails!!!

I can't even work out how you still have the email address. Surely when you cancelled your internet you lost the address? And I can't work out why you'd let me send messages for a whole month - pouring my heart out, saying things I would never say directly to you because you shouldn't be burdened with them - without saying something. You can't have been just deleting them otherwise you wouldn't have responded to one of them. I don't know what your motivation was, but I think maybe you owed it to me to tell me my private thoughts weren't so private.

Anyway, what's done is done. And I'm back here writing in a place that doesn't have quite the same impact on me, but will do. I don't have much to say anymore anyway, it seems. There's only so many times you can go over and over the same old ground. Even I'm getting tired of it.

What an odd two days. *Shrug.

I love you still x

29 days

nothing new. I love you. I miss you. I go on.

yes, I think I would

Suddenly I understand that the magnitude of the pain that has consumed me for these nine months is proportionate to the magnitude of the joy and love I felt every moment of the almost two years you were in my life. Would I go back in time if I could, and sacrifice that to avoid this, this relentless and devasting hurt.

Yes, I think I would.

same same

I love you the same. Just as much. Just as deeply. Just as completely. I just try not to think about you anymore, because when I do I can't make sense of how we could lose what we had, how you could not want it - me - us (we were extraordinary!) - anymore. And I can't face what it means about me (the horrible person I must be for you to loathe me now as you do) and my future (bleak).

I'm exhausted from the nagging distress of worrying and wondering how you are (please, please be OK).

So I just push the thoughts away as quickly as they come.

But nothing changes the way that I love you. Instinctively. Involuntarily. Inevitably. And, I suspect, eternally.

Same same, always.

broken hearted

still.

and still

my devastation is deep, unrelenting

another week

Another week of lonliness, here I come.

I can't

The man I love, the man I believe is my soulmate and who not so long ago loved me the same way, now loathes me. And I don't know why. I don't know what I did. I know I did some things, little things in the grand scheme of love and life, caused by stress and exhaustion and fear and feeling helpless and worried. Not things that cause someone who loves you to shut you out suddenly and completely, as though you're a leper. And I know you loved me, there's no doubt in my mind or my heart about that.

And so here's what else I know.

I'm not the person I thought I was. I'm more awful, unkind, hurtful, harsh and undeserving of love, consideration or even courtesy than I could have imagined. I'm really just not a nice person. This must be true for me to have done whatever I did to hurt and upset you so much and for me to just not have a clue about it.

What kind of person am I to have done something so awful to you but not even be able to figure out what it was?

My torment is about this, this awful gut-wrenching feeling of shame and guilt and regret and sorrow for whatever it is I did to you. I would hate myself for ever doing something like that to someone. I hate myself more because I did it to you, the love of my life. I would throw myself at your feet and beg your forgiveness if I could. In so many ways I have already. And you have not a hint of kindness to offer.

I can't live with myself.

I can't live without you.

The End

100 days ended yesterday. I've had some ups and downs in the last week. I contacted you, overwhelmed once more with the need to apologise for anything and everything I did. I really think that's the last time I'm going to say sorry to you. You either accept my apology or you don't and it's not like you're going to tell me either way, so that's that.

I've made some friends. I had a pretty social day yesterday. I've painted most of my bedroom. I'm moving on.

I love you.

Goodbye.

emotionally and spiritually spent

Making sense of the world is fundamental to my ability to function. I need to understand things. I seek to put the puzzle pieces together, even if I don't like the final picture. It calms me, I can cope with most things if I can understand them. I don't understand this, us, and I think that's why I'm not really coping.

I'm functioning physically, soldiering on through my days, making things happen. Big things, significant things that would be indicators of wellbeing, contentment, success. Little things, because I must. But emotionally, spiritually, I'm completely spent.

I get that people have much, much worse problems than me. This is not even a problem. It's a challenge, a thing, undefineable. It just is. But it's my big deal and it's the biggest deal I've ever dealt with, because it's stripped me of every last piece of optimism - and optimism has always defined me. Belief in the world, me, the abundance of joy available to all of us. All that belief is gone. My faith in all of that has been tested and found wanting.

Make sense, or just deal. One of these things needs to happen. Please.

ai ai ai

Too much pondering on the train. Pondering what my last post in 5 days is going to say. Imagining it might say that in spite of all the time, self-reflection, deliberate distractions, busyness, making of new friends and so on, I really have no desire to be in my life anymore. I don't have the urge to take my life. I just don't want to live it. I almost made a bargain with myself - give it a year, just another 5 months, and if I still feel this way, just do it. Just end it. Just leave this life behind and indulge in the sweet relief of nothingness. I didn't make the bargain with myself though, but it was damned tempting. My heart continues to feel like it's broken and scattered in a thousand pieces.

truly, madly, deeply

in love with you. I'm OK though. I'm not crying every day any more, just a few tears trickling now and then, at unexpected times. Like tonight, when I was having a massage. I was lying there and doing something nice for myself, and when she massaged my feet it reminded me of the countless times you did that for me. Such a loving gesture, and probably something I didn't show enough appreciation for.  I'm sorry.

I love you.

one week to go

I wonder what could possibly change in a week.

can't shake you

I think I'm finally ready for this blog to wrap up. It keeps me attached to you, and as much as I love you and would give anything to be attached to you for real, this one-way, silent, painful attachment is only hurting me. So, so much. Not long to go and my 100 days is up. I need to shake you off. So, so much.

why?

I honestly can't make sense of us. What could possibly be the point of the universe bringing together two people with an extraordinary passion and love for each other, and for that passion and love to utterly captivate us, for us to know and say often that we're unbelievably lucky, for us to wish as we did so many times that we could give everyone what we had, and then test us to a point way beyond our limits?!

Why would life give us all that we had and then conspire to throw at us such a huge list of challenges and stresses, that we were almost destined to fail? As if living a 1000kms apart wasn't challenge enough, let me catalogue all of the others:

• for months and months we commuted every two weeks or so and exhausted ourselves
• eventually you moved here but your children needed you and your ex manipulated the situation, and did some truly awful things (I remember your face going white with distress one time, and how much I wished I could just fix everything)
• you started a job here that proved to be incredibly dangerous, finally quit and  then couldn't find work for such a long time, a total blow to your sense of pride. I know you questioned your decision to come here.
• you had to move back home to protect the kids and we had to commute once more
• you got extremely sick, out of the blue, and stayed that way for 5 months, making it impossible to even look for work
• sometimes you came to see me even when you were way too sick to travel
• all through all of this, I was working 100+ hours a week on an incredibly demanding project, commuting to be with you whenever I could, overwhelmingly exhausted, under extreme work pressure,  truly deeply stressed for probably the first time in my life, worried to bits about you, the kids and us, wanting so desperately to fix everything for you, wondering how we were going to turn everything around, probably way too needy, definitely snappy, starting to doubt you, starting to doubt us. The absolute worst version of me.

So why? Why why why would life show us heaven and then dump us into hell??!!  There's cruelty in that that I just can't fathom.

There's a nagging voice in the back of my mind reminding me that our thoughts create our reality. I don't want to face that right now, I really don't.

There's another nagging voice asking me if maybe right now I'm just not courageous enough to let myself be happy again. If letting go of my sadness means truly letting go of you. I don't want to let go of you, not now, not ever.

You are the love of my life.

seven months today

since we broke up. I don't know how I feel. I wish I could say I feel optimistic, content, hopeful, but I think at best I feel neutral. More an absence of feeling than anything particularly discernible.

For the first five months or so after we broke up I couldn't hold an image of you in my mind. Pictures would pop in but I had to push them out as quickly as they arrived. Anytime the images started to take hold the breath would be sucked right out of my lungs, tears would well up in my eyes and I'd lose the ability to concentrate or focus.

Tonight on the train, on the way home, there was an empty chair opposite me. Suddenly I saw you sitting in it. Jeans tight on your muscly thighs, deep, soulful eyes, tender smile, quiet, content. I remember so many moments like that. I remember looking at you and being overwhelmed with love and the feeling of being completely blessed. I know things went utterly pear-shaped between us but I've never forgotten who you are, how wonderful you are.

I wish you could remember the me that you loved so much once.

you are ...

everything I ever wanted in a partner. I don't believe I'll ever find another you. I don't believe there'll ever be a man that makes me feel the way I feel about you. I don't believe I'll ever love again, the way we loved. I don't believe my life will ever be truly whole again.

facing it

A new, kind, smart friend let me chew his ear off about this awful struggle I've been having, trying to let you go.

I asked him the question that's been burning in my mind for weeks. What can I do differently, to allow myself to move on?

He gave it some real, sincere thought and finally said to me that the extent of my grief seems intense, overwhelming and not really normal. And maybe, just maybe, depression is an issue.

And maybe he's right. It seems that it doesn't matter what I do, how much I look OK on the surface, I'm still utterly heartbroken and miserable underneath, and I can find myself with tears trickling down my face at unexpected, unguarded moments. It's exhausting, embarassing and it feels pathetic.

So maybe there is something deeper, physiological, chemical, going on as well. Maybe the shock and devastation of our break up altered some of my internal workings and that means it's harder than normal to bounce back.

Even just allowing myself to think this might be possible, as terribly uncomfortable as it is, kind of helps in some strange way. It's like I get to say to myself, "it's OK, you're really up against it, give yourself time and be gentle with your heart".

Let's see how I feel in the next few days ...

unguarded moments

I was sitting on the bus this morning, quietly, on my way to work. Suddenly I felt tears welling up in my eyes, then gently falling down my cheeks. It's always in the quietest moments, when I have nothing to distract me, that I feel the loss of you so deeply and I feel at my most fragile.

Sometimes it seems that everything I do to fill up my life is just an attempt to run away from those quiet, dangerous moments.

My mind wandered to forgiveness and the realisation that believing someone blames you for their hardship, rightly or wrongly, is soul-destroying. I'd never understood that before, but I know now that if you love someone, if you believe you're a decent, kind, thoughtful person, and then you think the person you love sees you as something much darker, something awful, it will tear at your soul.

I'm desperate for you to forgive me for the things I've done, and the things I haven't done but you think I have, and the things I haven't done but should have. I'm desperate for you to reach out and ease just a little bit of my suffering. You probably can't begin to imagine the healing you could create by just saying "I know you never meant to hurt me, I know you're not a selfish person, I know we both made mistakes, I'm sorry for my mistakes and I forgive you for yours". I tell myself these things about me and about you all the time, but it's not the same. I haven't forgiven myself yet. To be honest, I wouldn't even know where to start.

In the back of my mind a little voice keeps saying "he thinks you're a horrible, selfish person, and maybe he's right".

Unguarded moments. No thanks.

counting my blessings

I totally made it through another day. Yesterday sucked! Today, I'm OK. I mean, I'm not awesome. Deep down inside I'm pretty empty but on the surface I'm doing just fine. Painting really helped. It's true that keeping busy heals.

I'm counting my blessings.

My Mum has been the BEST Mum ever through this whole ordeal. I never knew Mums could be so great.

My team at work, the women that report to me, are just wonderful. They don't know anything about any of this, and they all have a bunch of really difficult things going on in their lives, but they're just great. Fun, supportive, kind, talented, wonderful.

My house is great. I'm so lucky to have it and I have so many dreams and plans to make it home. The water view is a dream come true.

I'm making new friends. Slowly. Carefully.

I'm strong. Damned strong. Even though this whole thing has nearly crushed my, my capacity to endure, withstand, stand up, move forward, still surprises me. I've always been strong. I've never faced anything like this before. I've faced it now and I'm proud to say I'm still strong.

I'll be OK. You'll be OK. We're both in control of our own happiness and I'm going to keep focussing on mine, and try to leave you to worry about yours.

I'll always want the best for you.

first day ...

... alone in my new home. Without you. Without our family. Without our life and our dreams and our plans. Fragile as hell. Doing all I can to hold myself together. Would really like to be able to collapse into a pair of strong arms right about now. Yours. Anyone's actually.

Holding back tears, only just. Time to get busy, paint some walls, something like that ...

something I explained to a friend ...

his (you) ex treated him awfully ...
we (you and me) broke up all of a sudden one day
and he hasn't spoken to me since
no matter what I've done or said
begged, apologised, turned up at his door step
< made a complete fool of myself
and among all of the aspects of that that just tear me to pieces
one of the biggest things is that somehow
he sees me the way he sees her
that somehow I've become an awful monster
and he's forgotten who I really am
I made some mistakes
and he's entitled to be mad and dissapointed about some things
but to be honest, vice versa
but I've never lost sight of who he is
how amazing he is
how much integrity he has
and I think he doesn't think of me like that anymore
I think he thinks he's dodged a bullet
and that I'm a piece of work, you know?
and it kills me
especially because I just don't know
I have no idea what he thinks
so I think the worst.

please call me

Not to talk about us, what happened, why. Please call me, just to tell me how you are, and ask how I am. I would give just about anything to hear your voice, and hear that you're OK.

I read an astrology report for you today. If it's true, your life is going to take an amazing, wonderful turn this month and next. I really, really hope so. With all of my heart I wish you all the very best of life.

http://www.astrologyzone.com/forecasts/monthly/aries_full.php

contemplating

I'm considering setting myself a challenge to go on 10 dates with 10 men I've never met before. I wonder if that's even possible. I wonder if I could even get 10 dates. I really don't feel very attractive, very date-worthy, at the moment.

I wonder how I'd cope - I'm so shy and private at the best of times when it comes to men.

All the more reason to just do it I think.

I'll consider it a little bit longer ...

back on the horse ...

I'm trying. I'm not loving it and I'm not feeling very much, but I'm trying to open my heart and mind to new love and a new life. I'm not actively seeking, because for now (and maybe some time) I just want to be with me, creating a calm and tranquil life. But I am actively working to keep my heart and mind open, for fear that they'll both shrivel up permanently if I don't. And that would be such a terrible waste.

what did you say?

I had tears in my eyes at dinner tonight. I was out with Mum and my stepdad, having dinner at a local club, and all I could think about was how much I miss you. If I see a man that even looks a tiny bit like you, walks like you, carries himself like you, looks at a woman the way you used to look at me, my eyes immediately well up.

As I sat there trying to hold myself together I wondered something I often wonder but usually try not to (it just hurts way too much). I wonder if you ever told the kids we broke up, or if you just let it slide. One day I was there (sort of) and then I wasn't for a while, and maybe enough time passed that nothing needed to be said. Or maybe you sat down with them and explained that things just didn't work out. Maybe you said it was all my fault and that you're all lucky I'm gone.

If you never spoke to them about it, I wonder if they ever spoke to you. Did they ever ask about me? Wonder what happened to me? Wonder if I was OK? Is there any part of them that misses me, even a little?

I can't understand why you cut off all contact with me. I try, and of course I'm learning to accept it even without understanding it, but I just can't make sense of it after everything we shared and all the love we had. And I honestly cannot fathom how you could shut me out completely and never let me say goodbye to the kids. Were you protecting them? Were you trying to hurt me? Did you just not care either way?

These things just eat away at me, every day (much like all of the other things).

someone was telling me

... today, that sex binds you to someone physiologically and makes it much harder to 'let go'. Well, that explains a lot.

The same person also said that a man who could love me as you did (or said you did) and then cut me off so instantly and absolutely the way you did, can't be in a good place. Apparently that's not a normal or healthy or particularly reasonable way to cope. I don't know if any of that's true. I figure we each cope as best we can and do whatever we need to to feel at peace.

I still don't know what to make of any of it. Clearly you stopped feeling anything for me, that much I can't argue with. Why, how, when is what eats away at me.

Even as I type this I'm thinking "stop being so bloody pathetic. He's not interested, he's moved on, let it go for God's sake". And my thinking is right of course. I am being truly pathetic.

I'd love to be able to just not love you anymore.

great day

Hardly a single thought of you. Wonderful.

a lobotomy, please?

Today has been a busy thinking day. Thinking of you. I'd give almost anything to stop the thoughts. I thought I had and that I'd genuinely turned a corner, but today it's a revolving door.

I just arrived at my hotel interstate {your State} after flying down for work. I checked in and was walking down the hall on my floor when I remembered that the last time I was here I was here with you.  I'd give anything to be able to erase that thought. I'm here two nights and it's too much. Too too much.

Someone asked me last night if I believe you can have more than one soulmate in a lifetime. I replied that I'm terrified I'm going to be in love with you for the rest of my life and die heart broken and alone, so damn I hope you can have more than one soulmate. It's the only hope I have. I don't want to be with someone if it doesn't feel the way we felt, and so I have to believe {hope} it's possible to feel that way again.

It's too too much.

troubled

Writing my heart break story is having an interesting, somewhat troubling affect on me. I find myself feeling pressured (by what?) to document a journey from darkenss to light, sadness to happiness, trial to victory. Like somehow, if I get to the end of 100 days and can't say I'm all better, life's shiny and bright, and I'm completely healed, then I've failed this whole writing exercise.

This is my conundrum. How do I stay true and authentic in documenting my story, and not succumb to the subtle but nevertheless increasingly present urge to write a happy ending?

(Why am I documenting it anyway, if not just to pour out the things that are tearing away at my insides, my heart? Why would I layer an agenda over that? Is it some form of denial?)

Maybe the bigger and more dangerous question is, what if I get to the end of my 100 days and there's still nothing shiny and bright about life at all? What then? Where to from there? What if this miserable numbness is it, for life?

Do I maybe want to write myself a happy ending because the enormity of going through all of this and getting to the end feeling no better about a life without you, is just more than I can bear to imagine?

Probably, I think.

ratwheeling

I'm genuinely bored with my writing now. I'm stuck in an emotional ditch, not moving forwards or backwards. Nothing seems to be shifting, lifting, changing. I don't have anything interesting to say that doesn't make me sound pathetic and weak.

*sigh ... rat on a wheel. Maudlin, depressing, self-indulgent, self-pitying me.

probably good news?

I seem to have less to say about you and us at the moment. I made my decision to let you go at 6 months, and it's working, I'm truly moving on.

I'm not happy and I miss you as much today as always, but I can imagine that I might be happy one day soon (ish) and I might stop missing you eventually.

This is the first time I've really been able to imagine that - probably good news, right?

Fingers crossed.

wishing

"Never chase love. If it isn't given freely by another person, it's not worth having." D. M.

I've known this all along, I've just had awful trouble living it. I wish it had been different, easier.

foolish

I don't know what I was thinking, but I found myself looking through some of our photos and videos tonight, something I've avoided totally for the last six months. Maybe I was feeling brave. Silly, silly me.

You take my breath away.

You are without question the most gorgeous man I've ever known, inside and out.

I think this is what they call a relapse.

I can hardly believe that I can still love you this much, as completely and deeply and fully as I always have.  And that I still ache just to talk to you, every day {even when I'm trying to pretend to myself that I don't}.

I don't want this. It's honestly almost too much to bear some days. I would give just about anything to forget you ever existed right now.

And I thought I was doing so well ...

{really} good news

I've finally moved into my new home and I love it. I still think of you every day, and always every morning when I first wake up, but I've been so busy lately that they're just fleeting, painless thoughts.

I'm a long way from being happy, and at best I'd describe myself as comfortably numb, but I'll take that. That's a 1000% improvement on the intense, cavernous pain of recent months.

day one

I wrote to you yesterday to explain my promise to myself, and to assure you that you can have real confidence I'm now putting us behind me, and moving on.  You might not believe me, I've promised and failed before, but this time is different.

Today is day one of the rest of my life, looking forward, not back.

agonizing

I heard that word recently and realised it describes exactly what the past six months have been like. If someone had told me just a day before we broke up that I could feel as much pain as I have, that days could be agonizing to the point of just wanting to die, that loss and grief and confusion and shock could be relentless and devastating, I seriously doubt I would have believed them. I'm little_miss_optimistic, a go-getter, and adventurer, a liver of life and a believer that all will always be well. I make things happen for myself and the people I love, good things, and I live in gratitude and marvel at how lucky I am. And then this happened, and whoa, it sat me back on my ass and sucked the breath clean out of me.

I'm far from healed. Far from over you. A long, long way from being whole again. But I can look back now and see the path I've been walking for the past six months, reflect on it, be in awe of it, and feel the first hints of gratitude that I made it through.

I wonder what the next six months, and beyond, hold for me. At best I think I'm going to spend the next little while just rebuilding the bits of my life. We had a plan for a marvellous, happy, contented, loving family and future and now that's gone. I don't know what will fill the void. Probably not much for a while, probably it's just a matter of keeping on keeping on and staying open-minded and open-hearted to what life might bring.

There's a word, and I can't bring it to mind, that describes this period in my life. Cataclysmic seems close. I lost you, the love of my life. I lost our dream of creating a happy, loving family for your children. I lost them. I lost the hope we had (especially me) of expanding our family. I lost three of my closest friends, one after the other, each independently, because they didn't like the way I retreated. I don't think they saw my pain, how agonizing it was. I don't think they looked closely enough to see that I was hanging on with a thread and that there was a real danger of me collapsing into a nervous breakdown. I knew it then and was fighting with everything I had. But I don't think they saw that, and even if they did, I don't think they could be bothered with it.

I could be wrong about my friends, I completely understand that, and I'll probably never know. Either way I lost them too.

I lost my self-confidence and I came excruciatingly close to losing my self-respect (to be honest, that's still only hanging on by a thread. I really haven't handled things very gracefully).

I know that my survival instinct is powerful and that my capacity to rationalise and compartmentalise and explain and understand and put things in their place - to make sense of stuff - is highly developed. I can only assume that these things bubbled away in the background and held me together until I could consciously do that for myself.

So now it's time to consciously do it. Little by little, to rebuild, start putting the pieces of my life back together - starting fresh in a new place, maybe making some new friends (not easy when you're deeply private and solitary, but I'll give it a shot). And maybe one day when I'm ready, maybe I'll start putting the pieces of my heart back together.

milestone approaches

In two days it will be exactly six months since we broke up. A while back, when I realised I really wasn't coping and I didn't have a lot of control over how I was feeling or what I needed to do, I made myself a promise.

I promised myself I could fall apart as much as I needed to, and I decided to forgive myself if I did things I really wasn't proud of, like contacting you even though you'd told me not to. I also committed to consciously doing things to live my life as fully as I could - my holiday, buying my home, other things.

And I set a time limit - six months.

Time's up. It's time to let you go.

definitely stronger

Really, a LOT stronger. Smiling again. Kind of back to normal. Almost happy.

Scratch just a little under the surface though, and I miss you so much, So, so much.

one soul partner

A lovely friend told me a somewhat heart-breaking story tonight. Heart-breaking for me, anyway. She was visiting a naturopath for a treatment and they had a conversation about soulmates. The naturopath said we each have 49,000 soulmates (weird number, right?), but only one soul partner. That's it, just one soul partner in a whole lifetime.

What if you're my one and only soul partner and I let you slip through my fingers?

God, that doesn't bear thinking about.

for me

Today was big. I wrote to you a LOT. I sent a whole bunch of messages saying a whole bunch of things about where I'm at, why I'm having so much trouble letting go, how far I've come. It's the most healing thing I've done for myself in the past six months. One of the things I said was that writing to you is a bit like talking things through (though into thin air seeing as you don't respond), and that the talking is so important to me. It's what allows me to process, let go, move forward, heal.

It's what I need to do for me.

day 50

I just read a blog post about a teenager's heartbreak and realised that heartbreak's the same for everyone, no matter our age or circumstances. That big hole of lost love, missing passion, dashed hopes for the future, is par for the course.  This lovely teenager ended up with the love of her life 15 years later - magical.

I'm still trying to let go of the hope that we'll end up together one day.

Maybe another 50 days is all that I need.

http://viv-spot.blogspot.com/2009/04/that-torch-was-getting-really-heavy.html

finally

It's getting a little easier to not contact you. I still end up in tears most days, even if only for a split-second. I could collapse into sobs and curl up on the ground most days, but I can usually divert, distract, disconnect enough to avoid that. Only just, but just enough.

I keep imagining that one day you're going to call me. You say "Hi, it's me". And I can't speak. I'm ecstatic to hear from you. Shocked into silence. Frightened of somehow screwing up and causing you to hang up the phone. Paralysed, to be honest.

But I really hope you do. One day. Soon.

{I need to let go of that hope, too, right?}

"You must grant him freedom. It must be unfettered and it must be pure. Do not intrude on it."

http://www.mamamia.com.au/weblog/2011/02/when-a-break-up-is-the-best-thing-that-could-happen-to-you-by-zoe-foster.html

It's possible that this article saved my life today. It certainly saved my spirit.

hurting

Really hurting.
Crying.
So lonely.
Still shocked.
Lost.
Regretting.
Regretful.
Tender.
Heart sore.
Heart aching. Aching.
Broken.
Alone.

tonight ... again ...

I need some help. I need someone to put their arms around me and hold me while I sob until I have no tears left. I need you.

hardly breathing

Today it feels as though someone has reached into my chest, stretched their fingers and wrapped them around my fragile heart, and squeezed with all of their might.

I can hardly believe that this aching just doesn't go away. I can hardly breathe.

Just when I think I'm letting go, getting on with things, fretting less, feeling stronger, I crumble again.

I see you in the couple holding hands the way you used to hold mine. In the supermarket doorway, where you'd grab the grocery bags and insist I wasn't allowed to carry any of them. In the bus, which you hated. In a stranger's eyes, dark and soulful just like yours. I see you everywhere. In everything.

For a day or two my mind is in charge, telling me I should let go, I can let go, I have let go a little bit more and a little bit more.

Then my heart cries out and reminds me I'm kidding myself. I am devastated. I'm completely lost without you.

I love you and I don't think I'll ever, ever be happy again.

planning my goodbye

I have some things I'm going to send to you. I bought them recently, for the kids, when I was missing you all so much. I bought them on a whim. I asked you if it was OK to send them, but you were silent. Then I had second thoughts and so I asked you if you could understand that it's probably best if I don't send them afterall. You were silent. Now I don't really know what to do for the best, but in case you're expecting them, and because I love you with all my heart, I've decided to send them.

I'm going to wait a little while though. A few weeks, just to get a bit stronger and clearer. Because when I send these things I'm also going to say goodbye.

You deserve at least that much from me. A goodbye. To be let go. To be left alone.

a good sign?

I'm 40 days into my 100 days of heart break journal. I'm starting to forget that I have this blog, and that I have thoughts and feelings I_need_to_get_out! I'm not bursting as much. I'm not hurting quite as much.

I'm starting to stop hoping.

Maybe?

there is love in my life

You don't know but I haven't just lost you. I've also lost most of my friends and found myself at a profound crossroad, with everything that I used to know suddenly unknown, and everything that I used to believe now unbelievable.

I found that at the time I needed my close girlfriends the most, they weren't there. In fact they seemed to think I'd become hard work and too much trouble. Maybe I had. But maybe real friends are those that stick around when you're at your worst because that's when their friendship really counts. They didn't, so I said goodbye.

I've been in different states of shock for five months. Today I had the most delightful, heartfelt, honest, unexpected conversation with an old and dear friend. I remembered - there is love in my life.

still so in love with you

I no longer feel like I'm holding myself together with band-aids and safety pins. Life feels like it's getting the tiniest bit more manageable. An overseas holiday helped. Buying a house and planning some renovations is helping. Any distraction will do.

But in my heart of hearts, each minute of every day, I ache for you, I miss you, I'm so deeply in love with you.

Today my mind is filled with random images of the wedding we never had. Not images of where, when, who or how. Just images of us. Me standing in your arms, looking up at you. You staring in my eyes the way you once used to. Our lips gently touching. Whispering I love you. Blissfully happy.

Desperately sad.

alone with my thoughts

Days have gone by without access to the internet, so I chose not to write, to see if the distance made a difference.

Somehow it did, somehow it didn't. I certainly didn't dwell as much on the fancy ways and words I could use to describe and detail my terribly unique "no-one could possibly understand how I really feel" angst.

Instead I messaged you, a lot. It's starting to feel like a terrible, shameful secret, my inability to_leave_you_alone.

"Hello, my name is Loser and I'm an ex-aholic"!

it's a lie

that it gets easier. It gets less intense. It gets less constant. It gets less devastating. But it doesn't get easier. The loss and longing and hurt and regret and sadness and pain and love and wishing and wanting and shock are all still there, just bubbling away under the surface.

But as time goes on people expect it should get easier and that you shouldn't be stuck or sad or vulnerable. So in that way it gets harder because it's all still there but no-one wants to care anymore.

inevitable

I've lost sight of whether my writing is bringing me closer to letting you go, or if it's just strengthening the cords of my attachment to you and us. Maybe it doesn't matter either way. Maybe the place I'm going to end up is the same, and the way I get there is irrelevant (or at the very least, insignificant).

The inevitability of a life without you is pretty clear. The only thing standing between now and that is time.

dismissed

Today, in the middle of eating dinner, in the middle of a restaurant, in the middle of Asia, I finally got it. 

I've been dismissed. My feelings, my thoughts, my hurt, my heart, dismissed as irrelevant and unworthy.

What I need? Unimportant.

How I feel? Who cares.

I reached out and absolutely no-one was there. Most of all, not you.

if you love something

let it go ...

Let go of the dreaming.
Let go of the hope.
Let go of the wanting.
The desire.
The regret.
Let go of the anger.
Let go of the longing and hurt and sadness.
The hanging on.
Let go of what might have been.


Let it go.

I bought the house

I'm going on a holiday, I have a new house, I'm planning a renovation, I'm living my life. It's a half life, brief moments where I'm kind of OK, kind of living, kind of hopeful about the future, and the rest of the moments where I'm honestly faking it. I'm a fake and a phony and I have nothing to give anyone.

probably

me loving you is irrelevant. Probably the problem is you loving me. Or not loving me.

I love you

I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love youI love you I love you I love you  I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you

But it's not enough for you.

today my heart stopped

I was late home from work and went to the mailbox. It was dark, I sifted through the mail, and my heart truly stopped. There was a letter from you. I've dreamt of getting a letter from you for months. And there it was, and suddenly I didn't want it, because how could it be anything other than terrible news?!

But it wasn't from you. And I was SO relieved.

home

I'm probably going to buy a house tomorrow. In my heart of hearts I see it as our home - you, me, the kids, a stunning view and a huge adventure. I get that it's not our home, and that we won't share this adventure. I wish you knew what you're missing out on. All of our love, all of our dreams, all the magic that we have shared and could share. Everything that is rare and precious is everything we had and that we could have again. We just have to want it enough and be willing to mend our broken pieces. We could have such an amazing life in this amazing place.

It tears me up inside that all my wanting is not enough.

I think I'm going to buy us a home. And then I'll start coming to terms with living there, alone.

yesterday ... today ... tomorrow

Yesterday I was overwhelmed with gratitude for all the lessons I've learnt - through our relationship and since we broke up. And I was full of gratitude for you - all the love you shared with me and the ways in which you taught me to love.  And so I messaged you and shared my gratitude, and I hope somehow it brought some happiness into your day. Everyone likes to be appreciated, right?

Today I had lunch with a lovely, lovely girlfriend who listened to me as I questioned everything about us, everything I've done, everything I could have done differently. She gave me a soft place to fall - the first time anyone has really reached out to me in nearly five months - and I felt so grateful.

Tomorrow I hope to wake up a little bit lighter in my heart than I've been in a long, long time.

the rollercoaster

Your birthday stirred up so many feelings for me. I found myself thinking of you constantly. And messaging you. So full of love, longing, sadness, regret. But I've been through the 'loop-de-loop' and am on the home straight.

I feel a little better. I'm relieved this has passed, again. Until next time ...

do I just lack the will?

I messaged you today. I spent the morning in tears, in bed, struggling to gain some perspective about all things 'life'. I so very nearly resigned. I dug so deeply, as deeply as I had the strength to dig, to calm my mind and imagine how I might get through another day, week, who knows how long, among the vileness that has become work. Because as much as I want to quit and run, my sense of loyalty and responsiblity won't let me. And I thought to myself ... "If I could just still my mind, find some peace". And then I remembered being able to do that is one of your greatest skills. And then I just wanted to talk to you, listen to you, learn from you, be soothed by you. And so I messaged you to say you're amazing and I miss you. And I couldn't help wondering if messaging you was a good thing (for me, or for you), or a bad thing (for me, or for you), or just a thing that happens because I lack the willpower to stop it.

I love you. I miss you. So very, very much.

what could it be ...

that life is trying to tell me with this relentless pain? Why isn't it enough that I've lost you and all of my hope? Why is my life being dismantled piece by piece around me by some dark, mean, mysterious force that seems to hunger for my misery?

I simply do not have the strength to withstand what's happening. I sense, when I have a rare moment of clarity, that there's a symbiotic, almost parasitic relationship between loss and misery, where each feeds on the other until both have spiralled down into an abyss from which I'm almost certain I cannot return.

You were my anchor. Without you I'm adrift and at the mercy of the darkness.

suicide is an option

That's right. The most terrible of taboos but nonetheless here it is. I left work tonight with my spirit in tatters, crushed by thoughtlessness and heartlessness of people who really shouldn't matter. My 'mind' darts around inside my brain, ducking and dodging, an escape artist of Houdini-like talent. Anything to avoid thinking, feeling, facing. Any of it. Work. You. Us. No us. No you. More work. The nothingness in between it all.

Suicide is a definite option. The alternative is writing, writing, writing and hoping it will make a difference, so here I am.

I did what love would do

Today was your birthday. I messaged you - something simple, sweet, from the heart. You didn't respond. No surprise but still it tore at my soul.

Silence is the most awful torture. It leaves me imagining that you think dark, hateful thoughts of me. And maybe you do. Maybe in your mind I'm a monster that must be reviled.

It's time for that old truism, "If you love something, let it go ...".

tomorrow is your birthday

It breaks my heart that I can't be with you, that I can't spoil you - not with material things, but with my love - that I can't show you there are good, kind people in this world who love you very much and who want nothing more than to see you smile. I imagine you feeling alone, unloved, wondering what the hell happened to your life. Wondering why the hell you gave any of it to me ... I mean, look where that got you, right. Maybe you don't feel any of that. Maybe you're just grateful you dodged a bullet - the bullet that is me - as quickly as you did. And maybe tomorrow you'll give thanks for that, for the relief of it. Probably though, you won't think of me at all.

Tomorrow, I know my heart will ache all day. I'll think of you constantly, I'll be terribly lonely, I'll feel regret for any and everything I ever did to hurt you (not that I don't feel that every day), I'll wish, almost desperately, that you would let me make it up to you even in some small way. And in the secret places in my heart that I've been trying so damned hard to lock away, I'll wish I was with you, loving you, being loved by you.

You want me to leave you be. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Every day is a painful, confusing struggle and tomorrow will be one of the hardest. So I have been asking myself, "what would love do?". And finally I have something that feels about as right as anything can feel right now.

Love would wish you happy birthday, because that's what's in my heart, and then love would keep trying (with all its might) to let you go.

not the way that I love you

It's so uncomfortable to say this out loud, but I think I always wanted you more than you wanted me. I remember when we first met, long before I first lost myself in your eyes, and your arms. You could switch off in an instant, and it crushed my heart, stole the breath clean out of me. And on it continued - sometimes small things, sometimes big, but you had the frustrating yet unquestionably admirable ability to just turn off and walk away.

So maybe you never did really love me. Probably you never did. Not the way that I love you, anyway.

you didn't ask me to ...

but I'm waiting for you anyway.

how wonderful

I have been so deeply grateful for work, for the escape it's offered. As the end of each day approaches my insides start to rattle about, angst, sadness, fear, distress, longing, grief, pinging around my torso, escalating, letting me know in the clearest of ways that the night will be lonely and dark and miserable. This is what I come home to each night. And so I try not to come home. I stay at work as late as I can manage, knowing I have to rise the next morning and do it all again. Wondering how I'll do it.

Last night I finished work at a reasonable time, 8-ish, and went for a coffee and chat with a colleague. Time drifted by. Soon it was late, I was home, I stumbled into bed and for the first time in around 130 days, I slept.

still waiting

for someone to reach out to me ...

two steps back

Thursdays appear to be my most emotional day. Goodness only knows why, but it seems to be an evolving pattern that I wake up Thursday mornings especially tender-hearted and mushy, and as the day unravels around me, fragility and vulnerability and edginess pump around inside my body with each aching heartbeat. I end up an emotional puddle on the inside, holding myself together from the outside with whatever crude fixative I can lay my hands (heart) on. A joke perhaps. A crisis, or sudden deadline, or complicated task. A conversation with someone (only if it's unflinchingly impersonal). An imagined future drama that I must, must, must prepare for. Whatever works, frankly.

On Thursdays, it seems, I take a full two steps backwards.

once upon a time

I wondered, with a great deal of angst and confusion, what the point of life was. And then unexpectedly, miracurously, I discovered it. My love, my life. And then it was gone.

Someone please remind me. What's the point of life?

for the first time ...

... in four months and eight days I do not have a knot in my stomach, I do not have a gaping pitch-black cavern where my heart is, I am not a quivering wreck on the inside, masquerading as a slightly aloof but generally competent and functional woman on the outside, and I do not feel like I want to die. I believe it's absolutely worth celebrating the fact that, today at least, I simply feel numb. Numbness is a relief, a balm, a gift of grace and something that evokes within me the deepest of deep, heartfelt gratitude. It's like a stinging, throbbing, aching, gaping wound has suddenly, astonishingly, had the most glorious salve applied. Maybe, and I'm truly only guessing because I have no frame of reference for understanding where I've been in the past four months or where I might be going to from here, maybe numbness is the first step to somewhere magical.

future planning

I find myself planning for my future. Not the kind of planning that involves holidays, investments, new jobs, a new home ... all the normal stuff. But the kind of planning that involves me contacting you. This time maybe I'll get the timing right, say the right thing, in just the right tone, dangle just the right subtle enticement - and then you'll contact me back. Is it possible I'm that clever? Is it possible that somehow I know you better than you know yourself? I mean, for the past four months you've consistently told me - rarely directly, usually through silence - that you do_not_want_ to_talk_to_me! I can change your mind though, right? Because you just need space and some patience from me.  Because I know best don't I, I know we're meant to be together. It's just a matter of time (or is it perhaps persuasion by stealth?) before you know it too. I can win this one, I'm sure of it. Just by being the perfect blend of warm and thoughtful, but at the same time happy, independent and most importantly, moved_on! And just by waiting long enough, until the perfect future moment arrives. Then you'll know what you're missing. What you've given up. How silly you were.

Yep, I'll just keep deluding myself.

P.S. I'm still aching for your help. Whoever you are. Wherever you are. Please.

the big questions

Do I really have to spend the next 30+ years without the love of my life?

If I do, will I make it?

Does the fact that you could cut me off so completely over the months since we broke up, without barely a word and certainly no kind ones, mean you never really loved me at all?

If you didn't really love me at all, then what was it we shared? I believe it was true love, you said it was true love, we faltered terribly but only due to circumstances. No-one lied, cheated, hated, or hurt the other. But somehow, when it ended, you switched off your love over night. How?

Why do we tie ourselves in such knots looking for answers?

Why can't we just accept things as they are and move forward? Why can't I?

Would knowing the answers and understanding the reasons actually make it any easier?

What is the point of it all? Of any of it?

another day ...

... and I'm still here. Instead of 95% of my thoughts being invaded and occupied by this loss and this hurt, today it's dropped - thank you God (spirit, universe, thought consciousness, whatever might be out there) - to about 50%. That means 50% of my time can be occupied with other things, important things, normal things, things I need to do and think about just to get through each day. That means I can function. Three days seems quick right? Except it's not three days. The time from when we ended until day one of writing this blog was 120 days. That's 120 days of devastation, confusion, unimaginable grief, which I was so, so desparate to let go of, but simply couldn't manage to no matter what I tried. This blog is a miracle. For a while there I didn't think I wanted to or that I would wake up to a new day. Being finally able to say some of this out loud, reveal my vulnerability, expose the terrible weaknesses of being me, is a testament to my own determination to survive and thrive. Not yet, but soon ...

ask and you shall receive?

I made it through last night by allowing myself to fall apart - to completely and totally surrender to the despair that was clutching at my spirit, my mind, my heart. And I sobbed in desperation, desolation. I'm going to keep asking for help until someone answers.

Or until 100 days have passed.

is anybody out there?

Please, someone, help me. I'm so utterly broken hearted that my pieces are scattered from one bleak end of this earth to another.  Who ever knew that the devastation of lost love could twist and turn in writhing, angst-filled mourning, through every atom in your body. I didn't. All of these years and I had no idea it was possible to love so much, so deeply, so absolutely, and to be so barely present, barely alive when that love is gone.

Please someone. Help me.