Wednesday, 29 June 2011

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.

Monday, 27 June 2011

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.

Sunday, 26 June 2011

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.

Saturday, 25 June 2011

Thursday, 23 June 2011

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.

Wednesday, 22 June 2011


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.

Tuesday, 21 June 2011

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.

Sunday, 19 June 2011

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.

Saturday, 18 June 2011

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 ...

Thursday, 16 June 2011

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.

Monday, 13 June 2011

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.

Sunday, 12 June 2011

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 ...

Saturday, 11 June 2011

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.

Tuesday, 7 June 2011


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 ...

Monday, 6 June 2011

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.

Saturday, 4 June 2011

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.

Thursday, 2 June 2011

Wednesday, 1 June 2011

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.


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.