Tag Archives: friendship

The ledge of recovery

26 Jun

When you go through something that tears you apart, you need other people to help put you back together. When you fall, you need other people to help pick you up. When you’re drowning, you need other people to grab you by the paw and pull you upwards.

I think in the (nearly) eleven long months since the pizza of doom, I have probably driven my friends a little bit crazy at times. I’ve definitely leant on them. I’ve learned who the real ones are, and I appreciate them more than ever.

Of course it feels good when you don’t see the point to anything and you can’t see the goodness in your life or your heart, but someone reassures you that it’s still there. It’s comforting to know that people love you and want you in their lives, even if your ex doesn’t. You need those people to help build your confidence back up.

But once your confidence is built back up, you teeter on the edge of recovery. It’s a ledge. It’s narrow, and feels uneasy and a little bit scary all at once. When you reach that ledge you have to make a decision: you have to decide whether you want to be happy. And, if you do, that means you’ve got to move on. You’ve got to jump.

It’s no longer up to your friends and family to tell you how great you are, you need to feel it for yourself. You need to stand up for yourself and realise that you’re good enough and that – yes – someone treated you badly, but f*** them. F*** everyone who patronises you or tells you what to do – especially those who have never even been in a similar situation. Because your real friends still see you for the person you are deep down inside. They’ll still be there to support. Should you stumble, they’ll help you up. More than anything, they want you to take that leap too.

I’ve had an interesting couple of weeks. I think I’ve spent the past two weeks on that ledge. And, as luck would have it, a few events came into my life that helped me make my decision. Last Friday a friend who was much less sober than I was started to tell me how I should turn my life around. She told me I should quit my job, work less hours, go travelling, rent out my flat. She told me this with force. In front of people. On a drunken Friday night (when I happened to be sober).

At the time, it knocked a little air out of me. I know this friend cares about me a lot. Goodness, if she thinks my life is rubbish then it must be. But then wait – no. No. No. And no again. My life is not rubbish. I have an amazing job. I’ve worked incredibly hard to get to where I am and I’ve done it at a younger age than most people in my industry. I own my flat (which I love) in one of the greatest cities in the world. I feel so at home in my crazy little neighbourhood of hipsters, Turkish, Caribbean, and proper East End people. I am proud of this silly blog. And I’m out all the time with friends. I have a good life. Yes, I’d like someone to share it with. I think it’s a shame that I don’t get to share it with anyone, but the reason I think that way is because I know that I am one of the most caring, kind cats around. (Not to mention smart and funny with great hair and amazing taste in clothes.) So, no, I have no interest in quitting the job I’ve worked for ten years to get. And I don’t need to turn my life around. I don’t need to run away: I just need to get on with it and hope that someone sees how good my life is and wants to be part of it.

I stood up for myself and my happiness for the first time in a long time. I felt defiant, and I liked that feeling.

Which is when it hit me like a meteor or something equally powerful and beautiful.

I can jump off this ledge. I can grasp for the future. And nobody else can do it for me.

I know there are people who’ve got my back. Some of them even here on WordPress, you lovely blogger cats. Some who’ve known me for years and knew who I was before this all happened. Some who only know me since the pizza of doom, but who are able to see the person I am underneath, which makes me feel worthwhile and valued. You know who you are. You know what it means to me.

I have all the support I need. Which means I can do this. By myself. For myself.

Roar

22 Jun

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Roar.

That’s me making an angry noise. Because I’m working at the weekend again. And I’m a tired, tired cat.

But I’m also releasing my inner lion because something has kicked in very recently. I don’t know what to call this thing. It’s a feeling of being back in control. It’s a feeling of being good enough. It’s hard to put my finger on, but – damn – it feels OK.

I went for a run this morning, which I’ve started doing every morning. (Note to all break upees – run, run and run some more. It has done wonders for my mood and my sausage arms.) Anyway, usually in the mornings I just get my ass in gear so I only run a mile or so. This morning I just kept going. Like Forest fricking Gump.

I got back to my flat looking like a tomato, ever so sweaty, and feeling pretty f***ing great.

“What’s changed?” I hear you ask.

Who knows. My mood has been so up and down for the past ten months, that the slightest work stress or hiccup in my social life sent me spiraling into the doom. But right now I’m about as stressed as I can get about work. I’m not sleeping great because of that. I’m working long hours. But I feel OK about it. Yup, definitely OK.

Running has helped. I’ve also got myself a pedometer and make myself take time out every day to get at least 10,000 steps in. Just so you know, yesterday I did over 18,000 – check me out. I’ve been eating right. Using a lot of essential oils and things to try and lift my mood. Buying myself peonies every single week. Making plans for the rest of the year. I’ve made a great new friend who’s like a little injection of sunshine into every day (thank you). And – what’s more – it’s actually sunny.

I remember last year, post pizza of doom, crying on a friend about how sh** my summer had been between the stress of him going away, him acting like a c***, and then him finally ending things right before I started my new job. Yup. Summer 2013 sucked. My friend said, “Just think how great next summer will be.”

Maybe she was right.

Time will tell. But, as you know, every moment in my life needs a song from Nashville to accompany it. So here’s one that simply says ROAR.

Getting my life in gear

30 Apr

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Right then, buddies.

I am getting my fat ass in gear. Actually, my ass isn’t that fat. It’s the rest of me that is the problem.

I felt a bit clearer this morning after cutting the chord of LinkedIn yesterday. I know I’ll start crying soon. I know I’ll still cry myself to sleep at night. But this morning, well, this morning I felt pretty awesome.

So here are some wise words from my buddy Kate, “If you can’t control meeting someone, concentrate on what you can control.”

She’s a wise one.

Today I have booked an Italian course to start in July. Booked a yoga course to start as soon as I get back from holiday. Booked a weekend in Edinburgh with my buddies. I’m booking myself a first-class ticket back into life.

If I stop for even a moment to dwell on everything I’m missing in life, I completely dissolve.

But if I look at everything I’ve done, and think about everything I have planned, I feel genuinely ants-in-my-pants excited.

Maybe it’s just the extra large coffee I had this morning.

Or the fact I’m going to sunny Florida on Saturday.

Or maybe it’s the knowledge that he can’t hurt me anymore.

F*** him.

Birthday benefits

3 Apr

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I had a nice birthday, buddies.

I’d kind of been dreading it. What’s the point of celebrating yourself existing when nobody loves you? I woke up on my birthday and cried before hoisting myself out of bed and into the shower, then the office.

As it turns out, my birthday was just what I needed to remind me that I am loved by some very wonderful cats right around the world. Messages. Calls. Cards. Gifts. All so so appreciated right now. And all made me feel like I’m worthy of that love.

My team got me TWO cakes. Mmm. A delicious working day.

My friend Kate gave me flowers and bought me dinner. No guy I have ever dated has treated me to that double whammy. She’s a pretty hot date too, let me tell you.

Did I think about last year having cocktails and steak with the ex? You know I did. Did I cry about that? Of course. But, did I have a nice birthday anyway? Yes.

It made me realise I can be in people’s thoughts and hearts without having a boyfriend. And I might not have been good enough for him, but I’m good enough for plenty of other people.

Birthday benefits, they feel good. Tomorrow night I’m having drunkenness with a bunch of friends and Irish Two is coming along.

I can’t help but wonder if he might have a few birthday benefits for me too?

I miss you like a hole in the head

1 Apr

Happy April, everyone!

I’m determined to come out of this month feeling better. Grrrrr. Listen to that determination. I will also come out of this month and get straight on a flight to Florida at the start of May. How could that not make my life better?

My determination is getting more gutsy because the past few days have just sucked. In a funny way, being around my family makes me feel acutely alone. My sister has gone on to create a family with three whole other people besides herself who are there every day and who love each other. I have… oh yes, it would just be me. It makes me feel like such a failure.

Last night I came home, made some scrambled eggs, ate a walnut whip, and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried about my ex. Ohhh, it’s getting terribly boring. I bored myself in the end, popped a sleeping tablet, and went to bed.

I emailed my friend Andy this morning and had a good old moan about it. I asked Andy, “Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” That’s what I’m starting to worry about, you see. I’m eight months into this break up. And it still f***ing hurts. I think when Irish Two and I ended things it left a hole, and my brain filled it with the ex.

Andy made a very good point. He’s a wise big idiot, really. He works in the same kind of job as me (doing creative things in marketing land). The way that he sees it, creative brains need to be doing something at all times. The only time we turn them off is when we’re asleep. And, even then, anyone who works in creative knows what it’s like to wake in the night with a brilliant idea you have to write down (which invariably turns out to be total sh** when looked at in the cold light of day).

Anyway, this makes sense. Irish Two and I went our separate ways. Then, Irish Two went on holiday to New York. I was left with a big old hole. And my brain decided to stuff that hole full of memories of my ex.

Today, Irish Two is home and has been on email. It feels a little better already.

But ultimately my brain is going to have to get used to that space. And leave it open for someone worthwhile to fill with new memories one of these days.

Andy also said, “Imagine how stupid [ex’s name went here] is going to feel when your blog gets made into the next Sex and the City and the whole world is saying, “What tool dumped her?””.

Yes, he’s a wise big idiot at times.

I have proof that eHarmony is a nonsense

14 Mar

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eHarmony continues to fail me.

First, it matches me with Irish One, who led me to believe we would get married and live happily ever after. He made me the happiest that I’ve been in my life. He made me a part of his family. And then he ate half a pizza and told me he had never been in love with me. Thanks, Irish One. Thanks, eHarmony.

Then, it matched me with Irish Two. Irish Two and I are destined to be friends. He made me laugh, he was good in bed, but – alas – we are not a “match” by any stretch of the imagination. I’m a sensitive soul who loves to be close to people. He’s a hardened, unaffectionate cat who can’t get close to people. Thanks again, eHarmony.

Last night eHarmony matched me with one of my best friends. I have known Tristan for eight years. He is one of my favourite cats. We have worked together. We have been drunken together. We have put together a business plan together. In fact, I wrote the best part of his eHarmony profile and I am cut out of two of the photos he uses in it. If we were destined to be together, we would be. I know Tristan extremely well and I can say with confidence that we would make a terrible couple. Simply awful. Thanks for making me have weird thoughts about one of my best mates, eHarmony.

This all leads me to believe that eHarmony is, basically, bullsh**.

I feel overwhelmed with anxiety for all the couples out there – all the millions and millions of happily married people (if we are to believe the advertising) who eHarmony has “matched” through science and algorithms and stuff. I fear their relationships are all built on lies and silicone valley start-up dreams.

I think it’s time to trust my guts. Not a website with extremely poor architecture and user experience.

eHarmony, I am so angry at you right now.

That is all.

Happy half-birthday to my little blog

21 Feb

It was six months ago today that I started my silly, little blog.

I remember the day well. I was sitting at my desk in my old office, crippled with anguish and mental exhaustion. Two and a bit weeks since the pizza of doom, I had hardly slept and was uncapable of doing, well, just about anything.

But I had been reading breakup blogs. In fact, I tended to get to work about 10.30, log on, look up some breakup blogs, and sit and read until 5.30, when I’d get on the bus and cry all the way home. Yup, August was a joy.

That day, on the 21st of August, I just started writing. And writing. And writing. And it started to feel better. Just a little. But better, nonetheless.

I didn’t expect to hear back from anyone. As far as I was concerned I was just packaging my misery up in words and sending it off into cyberspace where it could no longer hurt me. But hear back I did. From people all over the world going through similar things. people who had been through similar things. I got my very own little breakup community.

It still hurts. I think it always will. But my blog has proved such a great source of relief, therapy and camaraderie.

Happy half-birthday to you, Pizza of Doom.

I’m very, very proud of you.