Tag Archives: sadness

Your life just changed

6 Apr


Goodness gracious. Weekends should really be at least three days long. This one has just flown by, and I really need to get organised for going to New York on Friday, but I feel very much not at all organised. Not one bit. Distressing, because life is about to get very busy for the next few weeks with work and trips and visiting friends.

It makes me think how different my life is from how it was last year at this time. And from how I thought it would be right now. And how I thought it would turn out in the future.

I’ve been talking to a new breakup buddy, which makes me think back a lot on the early days after the pizza of doom. The days when I actually wanted to die. I know it’s a terrible thing to say, but I did. I would never have done anything drastic or silly. But I wished to just not wake up in the morning. Tricky when you can’t get to sleep in the first place, mind you.

Anyway, the thing with break ups is that nobody has died. Your relationship has died. Or – as it can feel under certain circumstances – it’s been brutally murdered. I think one of the things I found hardest to deal with was the guilt. How could I feel so sad and cry so much and wish myself dead when the rest of my life was just fine and dandy? Shameful. Shame on me for feeling so sorry for myself over a boy. I still feel that way now.

But back in those early days one of my friends said something very true and very useful to me. When I was sobbing on her shoulder and hating myself for doing so, she told me, “It’s OK to feel this way. Your whole life just changed. Forever.”

She was right. There isn’t one aspect of my life that wasn’t affected by this. One conversation – one unexpected conversation – and everything got turned upside-down, back-to-front, rattled around and ruined. I’ve had to piece certain bits back together – finding my confidence again in my job, starting my new job without his support, making my peace with being the only one of my friends without someone, trying to reimagine myself in my own family as a single unit.

Hardest of all, I have to rethink my future. Because the future I thought I was going to have, and the future I wanted more than anything, is gone.

My whole life has changed. Forever.

You can’t underestimate how hard that is. But you can hope that one day you’ll realise it’s for the better.




31 Mar

Springwell 2013 029

When I spoke to my ex on the phone, five weeks after the pizza of doom, I cried a lot. I tried to express to him how unbearable the pain was. How deep the shame, the disappointment, the loss.

He kept telling me I would be OK. Condescending asshole.

And when he did, I cried even more and said, “I know I’ll be OK, I just wish I could wake up in March.”

This was back in September. After the break up at the start of August.

It never crossed my frazzled little mind that by March I would still be crying every day. That things would lift, but still feel ohsolow. That I would still think about him all the time.

No, I figured by March I would be fine.

It’s the last day of March. I don’t feel fine.

But tomorrow is April.

April is my month. April is springtime. April is lighter evenings and sunnier mornings and smells of grass that’s freshly cut. April is the run up to May. And in May I go on holiday. April is my birthday. April is Easter and visiting friends in Edinburgh.

And when my ex wakes up in the month of April, I know he’ll have to think about me – seeing as it’s my name and all.

I hope it hurts.

Keep. On. Going.

31 Mar


I just stumbled across this picture while doing some totally legit work. Seriously. My job is that silly.

Anyway, check out that furry little beauty. Look at that determination in her eyes. And she must be freezing her whiskers off.

Let this be motivation to us all: however cold life feels at times, run don’t walk towards the sunshine.

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.