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.