Tag Archives: pain

Putting my heart back together

28 Dec

I haven’t blogged in a long time.

My apologies, but I needed a bit of a blogcation. In truth, I’m not sure whether I should continue to write here on Pizza of Doom, or set up some new place to post all my ramblings. Not because I don’t love what I’ve created here – I do. But because my life is finally moving on.

This week it will be 17 months since the man I loved – the man I thought I was going to marry and have beautiful children with – ate half a pizza and told me he had never been in love with me. What followed was nothing short of hell. I didn’t know true heartbreak before this happened. I didn’t understand trauma, or depression, or myself.

I remember when, five years ago, a friend of mine had her engagement called off. Her boyfriend of five years had met someone else. That first week after it happened, I reassured her, and I told her, “I promise it will never feel as bad as it does right now.” I should never have said that, because I realise now that she was still in shock. She was still processing things. Her pain would come to a sharp climax sometime later, and then linger for months that turned to years. I want you to know that this friend got married (to someone else) just before Christmas. She has a baby girl. She’s very happy now.

I think my pain was at its worst for the duration of the first six months following the Pizza of Doom. Oh, you can read that pain right here on my blog. But, what scared me, was when a year later – even over a year later – the pain was still here. I thought it would never go away.

Then, all of a sudden, something shifted. Funny how it happens. One day I thought to myself, “Hmmm, you haven’t cried in like two weeks – weird.”

There’s a passage in The Kite Runner by Khaled Hussein that explains how it works with my eloquence than I ever could:

“I wondered if that was how forgiveness budded; not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up, and slipping away unannounced in the middle of the night.”

Now, I’m not sure that I’ve quite reached forgiveness. But I’ve reached contentment.

I refuse to feel sorry for myself that I’m still single at 32. Yes, the world is f***ed up for the fact that nobody celebrates you past graduation unless you’re getting married or having kids. But I don’t need to let that drag me down. I’m lucky. I can travel. I can buy things. I can live and create the life I want. And, if someone comes along, fantastic. But I can’t just sit here waiting.

I’ve started making changes. I’ve booked a trip to Japan. I’ve cut my hair (which I hadn’t had cut in nine years). I’m swimming and doing yoga and making sure that I celebrate things for myself – because nobody else will.

And, here’s something, I’m going to Japan on my own. It makes me slightly anxious, but it doesn’t scare me. Before, it would have. Before him. While we were together. Immediately after. I wouldn’t have had the confidence or the guts to pack up and head to the other side of the world for a month. Now, I do.

You see, this experience has changed me. It has totally changed me. All for the better. I am more sure of myself and comfortable in my skin than I have ever been. I’m resilient. I’m empathetic. I like myself a lot. If I do meet someone, if I do one day get to be a parent, I’ll be all the better at it for this experience. I guess it’s our darkest moments that test what we’re made of. Here are some Ted Talks to illustrate my point.

So I need to make a decision as to what to do with my blog. It will be here forever in cyberspace, hoping to offer comfort and advice and reassurance to poor broken hearts who Google points my way.

But I’ve finally put my own heart back together.

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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.

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All too well

8 Nov

I. Am. On. Holiday.

OK, I’m not flying ‘til Sunday, but I am finished work for two long weeks. Delightful. I celebrated with a massage on my way home tonight.

Funny, though. I don’t quite feel the crazy holiday excitement that I usually get.

It’s this time of year, damnit. Last year at this time, well, it was the happiest I’ve ever been. For about two months I was on the highest of highs. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to have met him. I couldn’t believe how incredible he made me feel.

I know this makes me (the dumpee) sound pathetic. But – believe me – he was the same. He was the one talking about marriage and moving in and kids. Not me. Him. I remember it all too well.

Now, let me just take a moment to thank Taylor Swift. There are days when hearing her pinpoint my emotions literally got me out of bed. Sometimes she seems like the only one who understands me.

Tonight I was listening to ‘All Too Well’ on the way home, and realised just how accurately it describes my current situation. As if the break up isn’t painful enough, I have to cope with remembering the blissfully happy times. The disgustingly happy times. And while he says he was never in love with me, I remember how he acted back them. I remember it all too well.

Unfortunately, I can’t think about it for too long without also remembering the mess I’m in now.

“You call me up again just to break me like a promise. So casually cruel in the name of being honest.”

I couldn’t describe my ex better. I’m certain that he feels OK about himself after our phone call (five weeks after the pizza of doom). I’m sure that he believes he did the right thing in telling me he was never in love with me. In the name of being honest. Why couldn’t he have said his feelings just changed? Why couldn’t he have made up something – anything – rather than leave me with that emotional baggage?

The damage is going to stay with me for a long, long time.

More than three months have passed and every morning I still struggle to get out of bed. Every day I cry. A lot. And I wonder just what exactly makes me so unlovable?

The old April would be so ecstatic and hyper about her holiday, she’d have massive butterflies flapping around in her stomach. No butterflies today. But hopefully two weeks of sunshine will help bring the real me back.

Because, as my good friend Taylor puts it,

“I’d like to be my old self again but I’m still trying to find it.”

I liked the old me. I remember her all too well.

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