04 October 2011

I've done too much thinking, so I can't think of a title

"...You are my friend
We’ve always had an understanding yeah
I can’t comprehend
How we’re now talking different languages

I believe in love

I believe in love
I believe in love
But do you?

And it’s true everybody knows
People come and people go
You mean much more to me
I don’t one of those to be you
But I really don’t know what I can do

I believe in making up
I believe in making up
I believe in making up
But do you?"
~ Bob Evans, Friend
This weekend will mark one year. Friday at around 5.00 pm to Monday at around 8.30 am. I remember every single moment. And I wish I didn’t. I am dreading it.

I have three options to get me through. Look at whether there is a memory eraser, akin to Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Spend the whole weekend drunk. Or do stuff to take my mind off it. I’ve already got dinner and movies with a friend on Friday night. And offers of phone calls during the weekend. And getting in and doing some things I need to make happen. For me. That is a start.

It is only an anniversary. Only a series of memories strung together. Only things that I remember. The best things. The worst. The things that only two people in this world know. I’ll be ok. Just breathe.

I am feeling a bit better than I did 4-5 weeks ago, when the day came that I wasn’t needed anymore. In the second week, I researched what grief feels like. The sadness. The heaviness. The worthlessness. And the hopelessness. These feelings combined were foreign to me. I hadn’t experienced grief properly before, and for this I felt guilty – should I have felt it when someone I knew died? Especially when I still think there was nothing tangible lost. 

I saw there were five stages of grief – denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. I think I missed the person-to-person bargaining stage and just did this in the form of writing many unsent letters. And there was never any denial. I knew the reality. I now swing between anger and sadness. I wake up with all these words on my mind, things I want to say, but can’t and probably won’t. More unsent letters in my head. Sadness is heavy. I want to feel fun again.

I went to see the counselor again. The first visit, in July, was to help me help him. This visit was to help me. It was good to talk things through, without the “I told you so’s” and judgment – all well-meaning of course. And it was good to know my feelings are valid. For so much of this has been wondering whether it's stupid to feel the way I do. 

I keep thinking I was just a reserve. There just in case. The worst feeling is that of being used. It has grabbed me with its force and wrung me out. I don't do regret, blame or resentment well, so the feelings and blame seem to be self imposed.

This isn’t a friendship. This has been reduced to communication by Facebook likes. Of course I could click unfriend and block. I’ve already removed the newsfeed. Nothing more uplifting than my top news notifying me the one I love is in a relationship with someone else. But I feel like I owe him more than that. Plus, jut because someone’s off your Facebook feed doesn’t mean they’re off your mind. The politics of social media make all forms of relationships more complex. I am keeping a brave front for my Facebook friends – the majority of whom know me personally, and of course, him. Yet over on Twitter I am venting my anger and sadness with lyrics and pictures and sarcastic digs. The relatively anonymous support is comforting. And here on this blog, it’s what the counsellor encouraged me to do. Write. It’s more censored and considered than on Twitter though.

And the acceptance in my grieving process? I've decided two things. Taken from a song lyric - I can't bear to see you with another, but dear I hope you're happy all the same. And this. My new mantra: to treat myself better, I have to find someone who will treat me better.


  1. Oh Carly, I've been through this mysef recently and I feel every part of your pain. I grieved, grieved raw and hard and gasping, and I'm so sorry for you, that this is your reality now. Please speak up if there is something I can do to help, and know this - time will soften everything.

  2. I know what you mean about feeling guilty about feeling grief in this situation when you didn't in others. I've experienced grief in a range of ways and I think the grief of a relationship lost is different because it is a part of you that is lost. Hopes and dreams and all that. In my experience the sadness goes before the anger does, although maybe in my case it was more because I was angry with myself. How did I, a reasonable, intelligent woman with a great support network let myself be in a situation where I was essentially being emotionally abused on a daily basis?

    Seeing a counselor is great. Keeping busy is awesome - best time ever for a wardrobe declutter. I remodelled my entire front garden.

    But your last line is the real gem. I'm sure you will find that person. There is something really empowering about making the decision that the person you are with better be worth you, rather than you feeling like you have to be worthy of someone else.

  3. Fantastic new mantra. All of your loved ones will be shouting "yes!". I feel for you and the unbearable sadness you're experiencing. I can only imagine this sort of loss. I am certain though that with time the sadness will become bearable and you'll start to feel lighter again. Things will be fun again. At least we'll have Friday night to laugh and distract you. You'll still cry when you need to but I am all for distractions.
    Heidi xo

  4. When I was in this situation I had to cut off all contact. I can't be friends with someone when I want so much more. In your shoes I'd defriend, unfollow, block - whatever it took to minimise the contact. But that's me and you need to do what's right for you. One curious thing I found which might help - activities which engaged both my brain and my hands were more soothing than mindless activity or passive passtimes like reading and TV. No idea why, but jewellery making was my best escape for a while.

  5. God, I could have written this. Had to block him on FB as so many mutual friends but then made my twitter private and cut loose on there. What happened to the days when we could simply break up and never have to 'see' them again?.


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