Tag Archives: sadness

Living in a shell

28 Nov

I saw a friend tonight. We ate burgers to celebrate Thanksgiving. We caught up on work news and gossip and dating stories (his, not mine). It was a really nice evening, and courgette fries were involved (always a bonus). But I found it kind of exhausting.

It’s something I’m noticing more and more when I see my friends. And I’m not entirely sure how to describe it. It’s almost as if I’m not me. Like I can see and hear myself smiling and laughing and talking and telling stories, but I don’t feel attached to that April. I feel like a smaller April, somewhere deep inside this shell. I feel detached from my edges.

I guess you could say I’m putting on a brave face, or putting on an act.

It kind of feels like more than that, though. It kind of feels like I’ve forgotten how to be me, but I’m desperately trying to remember.

At times I’m on auto-pilot, talking about work or laughing at old jokes, when inside I’m yelling out, “I feel awful.” For some reason, I’m too ashamed to say it out loud.

I really liked the old me. I hope she comes back soon.

Backwards motion

24 Nov

I had decided I was going to feel a lot better when I got back from holiday. I thought the time away would have put distance between me and the horrible, horrible past few months.

But for some reason I’m unable to stop crying.

When I booked my holiday, I still thought I was going to be living with him by now. After all, that’s what he had planned. I thought – for once – I would be coming home to someone. To the heating turned on. To food in the fridge. To a cuddle.

I came home to an empty flat. Empty fridge. Empty heart.

Sometimes it feels like my life is going backwards.

Thank you, Disney

5 Nov

Don’t ask me why, but I spent much of today listening to the Beauty and the Beast soundtrack. I’m as surprised as you are.

I guess I’ve finally bored myself by repeatedly playing my jaunty little breakup playlists (‘This. Will. Not. Kill. Me’, ‘Trust your guts not the Irish’, and ‘J**** C**** I feel like S***’).

Beauty and the Beast. Ahhh. Memories.

When I was eleven, I was not cool.

Let’s be clear: I’m not cool now. But when I was eleven it suddenly became very important to be cool. Sadly, I did not get the memo. So, while other girls were pining over Take That, shopping in Tammy Girl and starting to hang out with boys, I was plastering my room in horse posters and making up dance routines to Disney soundtracks.

Beauty and the Beast was a favourite.

I still can’t listen to it without going over (frankly very happy) memories of jumping around my bedroom in something resembling a costume that I’d fashioned from my school gym kit and my sister’s hand-me-downs.

1993 was a simpler time. And listening to the music really improved my otherwise dark and gloomy mood today.

Yes, it also reminded me of watching movies with my ex’s niece. Which made me sad. That made me wonder how she is and if she ever asks about me. And if he’s explained what happened between us, and whether it makes any more sense to her than it did to me.

But I’ll never know.

What I do know is it’s impossible not to feel good when you listen to a song about dancing cutlery.

Maybe, just for today, I wanted a break from all these grown up problems. Maybe I wanted to escape to the days when the worst thing that happened was losing my homework diary or not making the netball team. Maybe I just wanted to remember a time when I was really, really happy.

Just existing

4 Nov

I’m really not looking forward to Christmas.

This is quite a statement. Usually by November I have my Christmas DVDs lined up ready to watch. I always buy my tree on the 1st of December and decorate with the bags and bags of Christmas magic I keep in my storage cupboard for the other eleven months of the year. Usually, it’s my favourite.

This year, I just can’t be bothered.

The thought of starting a new year is even more depressing.

I am looking forward to my holiday next week. A lot. But after that, well, it doesn’t really feel like there’s any point to anything. I’ve already done three months of being miserable. It’s. So. Tiring.

During the week I wish away the hours and days until the weekend. At the weekend I just try to fill the time until I go back to work – cinema, nails, running, gym, sitting in coffee shops to avoid sitting in my own living room. I see my friends and I do have fun, but underneath I’m always desperately sad.

It’s almost like I don’t feel things properly anymore (apart from the sadness). I try to get excited. And, believe me, I’ll still be up at the crack of dawn on the 1st of December to walk up the road to the Christmas tree place, pick my piney amigo and carry it home (no small feat for someone who is 5ft 1). But even thinking about it is such an effort.

I feel like I’m just existing.

And it’s boring.

Cheerful autumn thoughts

28 Oct


My blog has been a little morose of late. I can imagine you are all tired of hearing me whine. I’m worse than Carrie Bradshaw at her most self-centred (when she cheats on Aidan).

So here’s some good stuff I want to share:

1. The storm that is about to “devastate” London (weather people are so dramatic. I think it’s an inferiority thing from working alongside journos who are reporting on politics and world events and crime, while they are reporting on clouds and stuff) has the same name as my sister. Jude.

2. The leaves that have all been shaken from the trees are very pretty.

3. I’m working in a coffee shop today with my fellow Creative Director. Team planning, business planning, etc etc. it’s easier to do this stuff than come up with amazing creative ideas when your brain is determined to be sad and focused on your ex. Coffee is delicious.

There we go. Just some ramblings. Just because.

Jude’s on the way…