Tag Archives: healing

Nothing in this world will ever break my heart again

23 Jul

The morning is my thinking time.

Before my brain gets all messed up with work and conversations and ‘to do’ lists, I enjoy my journey into work, sitting on the bus daydreaming. But my mind can go to some very odd places. I don’t always even realise what it’s up to, or what I’m thinking, until the thoughts resurface later in the day.

When I got off the bus this morning I was deep in a conversation with myself. I was asking myself, “Could you go through another break up like this?”.

So, could I?

Last year in the days of torture immediately after the pizza of doom, I remember a friend telling me that I’m someone who feels extreme highs and lows (he was right about this). He told me you’ve got to feel the lows to feel the highs (true story). And then he said, “Things will get good again. You’ll feel great again. And then something like this might happen all over again and you’ll feel low. But the highs will make it worthwhile.”

Ummm. No. I looked him straight in the eye (as much as I could with tears and mascara streaming from my face) and said, “I can never feel this bad again.”

I think I was right. I think the past year has taught me all sorts of resourcefulness, but has also taught me to protect myself. And listen to alarm bells. And not fall head-over-heels-over-head-over-heels for a man with robots tattooed up his arm.

I know I will most probably experience more failed relationships in my lifetime. But when I think back to August 2013, no. No. No. No. No.

I can never feel that bad again.

I can’t.

I won’t.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

The ups and downs of breakup recovery

11 Jul

27403393.876dc2c3.560

I feel a little down today.

Mainly because I am so exhausted. And so hormonal.

And, I’ll admit it, I thought a little about my ex this morning. Probably precisely because I am so exhausted and so hormonal.

But tomorrow is Saturday, which means I know I won’t be down for long.

I guess this is the next stage in this break up saga – mostly feeling fan-fricking-tastic, but occasionally getting caught a little off-guard by some sad thoughts.

I’m OK with that. It’s still a billion times better than being the April of July 2013 – blissfully happy and blissfully ignorant.

Here’s to Fridays, my blogger buddies.

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

The home straight

3 Jul

476027-bigthumbnail

Today, dear buddies, marks 11 months since the pizza of doom.

One more to go ’til the doomaversary.

I don’t know why the timings feel so significant to me. They have since the start of this painful adventure.

I’ve counted days. It was 55 days until the first day that I didn’t cry. It was 100 days until I went on holiday and cried every day.

I’ve counted weeks. It was five until I started my new job. It was six until I went to my friend’s wedding and cried because he wasn’t there. It was ten until I realised he wasn’t going to change his mind.

And I’ve counted months. Ticking them off, feeling strangely gleeful as they stacked up and put more and more distance between me and him.

What I haven’t yet had the chance to count is the years. But soon – yes, very soon – I can add that to the list.

That makes me feel like I’m on the home straight, racing towards putting this year behind me. And not looking back.

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

What do I have?

14 Jun

confused-cat

I had a couple of weird conversations this week that, frankly, knocked me for six. “Oh, don’t bother listening to people who make you feel bad!” I hear you cry.

And usually I’d agree. Except in this instance it was my therapist and Irish Two. My therapist is a professional. And she’s never been wrong before about stuff. Irish Two, well, I knew he wasn’t being an asshole. He was delivering some home truths.

I’ve always considered myself a bubbly, friendly, happy joy to be around. Turns out I don’t come across that way at all. I come across as “low energy” and “unhappy”. Or, “nice but sad” as Irish Two put it.

So I’m left wondering: was I always this way? I thought I was starting to feel more like myself. Was I ever a bubbly, friendly, happy joy to be around?

Ugh. I do not want to be a big old drain on everyone else’s happiness.

I lost my mind for a couple of days, emailing everyone I know asking what kind of person they think I am. I also had some email chat with a blogger buddy (you know who you are) who made me feel approximately ten thousand times better.

But when I wake up every morning I’m still feeling confused as to who I am and who I’m supposed to be and who I was before the pizza of doom. Through the whole mess of the past ten and a half months I never doubted that I’m a good, kind, fun, friendly person. If I don’t even have that, then what do I have?

Yes, what do I have?

It’s not an entirely rhetorical question. I’ll answer tomorrow.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Ugly aggression

27 Feb

I think I have a few issues with displaced anger.

I’m so mad at my ex. So mad. Mad at him for treating me like crap. Mad at him for saying he loved me when he didn’t, and saying he wanted to marry me when he didn’t, and hassling me to move in with him. Grrrrrrr. Mad at him for not loving me.

I’m also mad as a March hare about some sh** that went down with him. Like when he got paint on his stupid shoes and trampled it into my carpet. And the time I made him breakfast, then went to the supermarket to get food for him staying that week, and when I got back he was still on the sofa in his underwear and hadn’t even put our plates in the sink, let alone the dishwasher.

Ahahahahahhahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Problem is, I have no outlet for this anger.

Except Irish Two.

Irish Two is a curious cat. He’s pretty much not affectionate. But he’s not a bad person. No, no.

Last night he stayed at mine. I had seen my therapist after work so a few issues were fresh in my head.

As a result, I slept very aggressively.

I’m ashamed to say that I kicked him in his sleep. I pushed his head off my pillow. I shouted at him to stop snoring and stop moving around.

I apologised this morning. I truly felt terrible about it.

And even angrier at my ex for turning me into this cold-hearted person who attacks others in my sleep.

What a bitch.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

Confusion loves company

18 Feb

The best thing about writing a blog is that you get a whole bunch of new friends.

Especially when those friends are going through exactly the same things that you are.

While my real-world friends are getting married, having babies, and generally being blissfully happy, my dear blogger buddies are feeling the same things that I am. Misery. Pain. Shock. Little bursts of hyper happiness. And confusion. We’re a complex herd of cats right now.

Back in August when I started my blog, I was so deeply, deeply heartbroken. Nothing comforted me more than hearing the stories of others in the same situation. And getting to know others in the same situation.

You all know who you are.

In fact, we’ve often mused over how insane it seems that we experience the exact same feelings at the exact same time. Like were all living by some breakup calendar.

What surprises me now, six months on, is how our paths have continued to collide. Now, I find myself “seeing someone”, as many of you are. And I’m confused as f***. As many of you are.

A couple of days ago, luciddream85 asked, “What are we supposed to do?”

Though I know she was feeling and sharing despair at the time, I loved this comment. It hit a nerve. There’s such empathy in this question. Such a sense of community.

Because things do get easier, but it’s still one hell of a bumpy ride. Well, there aren’t any heartbroken cats I’d rather be on this rollercoaster with.

Here’s to the next six months, buddies.

Love you lots.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Dear person who broke my heart

16 Feb

It’s more than six months since you destroyed me.

And I’ve almost put myself back together.

The crying comes less frequently. The tears are not as hot and heavy. It doesn’t catch me unawares on the bus, at work, at the gym, trying to find cash to pay for my morning coffee. But when I do cry, it burns in my heart.

I sleep now. I sleep a lot. Probably too much. Often more than ten hours a night. My mum says it’s because I didn’t sleep for months. She says to let myself rest. So I do. And some days it’s still easier not to be awake.

I haven’t been ill in two weeks, which is a record. I’ve never taken so many medications in my life. I’ve never felt so weak, or frustrated. I eat healthily. I guzzle massive bowls of broccoli, spinach, beetroot, satsumas. And when I treat myself to an unhealthy snack, it leaves me feeling sick to my stomach.

I’ve nearly stopped boring my friends. Your name comes up less. But it’s hard to say it without my voice cracking. I have better friends than I could hope for, and your recklessness has brought them closer to me.

I’m seeing someone. In most ways he’s nothing like you. I don’t know yet if that’s a good or a bad thing. I find it hard to trust, to connect, to be the affectionate girl I used to be. I question things. I overthink every kiss.

We would have been going to Japan next month. I thought we’d get engaged while we were there. It was your idea to go. Which still confuses me.

I’ll be 32 in a few weeks, and life is not at all what I expected. But it doesn’t hurt as much. I do enjoy my life again. I enjoy writing, reading, seeing my friends, planning trips, thinking about the future.

Like I said, I’ve nearly put myself back together.

But when I allow myself to think of you, I can’t help but wonder. How could you do this to me?

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

Me vs. the Universe

19 Nov

This is actually starting to get pretty funny. The love of my life breaks my heart just before I start a new job, and I keep going keep going keep going til I reach my holiday.

On holiday:
– I have a cold that will not shift
– I get migraines every other day
– My wisdom tooth starts hurting me
– I get sunburnt

This afternoon my cold felt better and I went to lie by the pool. I felt something tickling my hip, put my hand down to investigate, and promptly got stung by a bee. True story.

I headed back to the apartment to sit on the balcony and enjoy a Sam Adams. As I picked up my glass, it slipped from my hand and spilt beer everywhere.

Oh, Universe. What else have you got in store for me in 2013?

Whatever it is, bring it on.

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

Broken heart, broken mind, broken body

16 Nov

I’ve mentioned before that I never used to get ill. Never. My crazy strong immune system laughed in the snotty face of colds, flus, bugs and viruses. Getting sick, just not my thing. I was far too busy having fun.

That was before the pizza of doom.

For the past few months I seem to constantly be fighting one bug or another. I was so focused on keeping going til my holiday that some kind of superhero power kicked in the last few weeks. But now I’m actually on holiday, I have the worst cold, and a very sore wisdom tooth jagging me in the cheek.

This is what I find most galling and, to be honest, most frightening about this whole break up. It’s not just the relationship that is broken up: it’s me. It’s my heart that genuinely hurts when I think about him. It’s my mind that cannot focus on anything for longer than a few seconds without hearing, “I was never in love with you” and questioning questioning questioning everything. And it’s my body which, after months of not sleeping properly, crying and stress, is just done.

He took my happiness, my love for the world and for pizza. He also took my first-class immune system.

Single and snotty. What a winning combination.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

Lisa Jewell, my heart, and what makes a great story

14 Nov

My favourite author is Lisa Jewell.

Reading one of her books is like sitting down to a cup of tea and wadge of cake, with an old friend, in a cosy room, on a rainy day. Some of her early books have a great deal to do with the fact I moved to London. Such fantastic stories about people who lived in exotic locations like Finsbury Park. Oh, it was just all so exciting.

Years ago I dated a guy who worked for Heat Magazine. For my 26th birthday, he got me every Lisa Jewell book, signed by the lady herself, with little personal messages inside each and every front cover. Best. Present. Ever.

Her latest book ‘The House We Grew Up In’ came out over the summer. Of course, I had preordered on Amazon, so it arrived on its release day. Big and fat and ready for reading.

But I waited.

I wanted to enjoy it. To really soak up every word on every page. My anxiety levels were just too high in the summer, wondering why my boyfriend was treating me like a piece of shit on his shoe. And not even a very nice shoe at that.

After the pizza of doom I couldn’t read. My eyes went over the words but nothing actually made it into my poor, tired brain which was still playing, “I was never in love with you,” on repeat.

Well, I started the book this morning, sitting in toasty sunshine on the balcony, with a huge cup of coffee. One chapter in and I am smitten. I’ll spend the rest of the day on the beach getting absorbed in the lives of the characters Lisa has painted.

Her books always make me feel things. It’s impossible to turn the pages without smiling, and laughing, and thinking, and crying, and smiling again. Which is the mark of a great story, right?

So maybe my own story isn’t a tragedy. I just haven’t reached the end yet.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

← Older Entries