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.

All of it could have been avoided.

I had to ensure that my woe is me post wasn't front and centre for a week. I didn't want visitors - or god forbid - people who know me - to think I am always sad. Because I am not. But I think emotions can falter, and hell, my strength is part of what got me into this mess.

So I've been looking for meaning in everything. Star signs. Calendars. The awful thoughts when I am alone. I feel like songs were just written about me. Or by me in another life.

There's the obvious and current Gotye which sort of applies:

"But you didn't have to cut me off
Make out like it never happened
And that we were nothing"

And then there's this gem, the track after the obvious. Gotye's Eyes Wide Open.

The chorus makes me think about what I've done. Knowing the outcome and danger of the situation and doing it anyway. And I think of the well intentioned advice received, and how I was headstrong. I never convinced myself I was fearless. I was shit scared of the reality. Gotye sums it up well: "And the saddest thing is all of it could have been avoided."

I walked the plank with my eyes wide open.

"So this is the end of the story
Everything we had, everything we did
Is buried in dust
And this dust is all that's left of us
And only a few ever worried

While the signs were clear
They had no idea
You just get used to living in fear
Or give up
When you can't even picture your future

We walk the plank with our eyes wide open

We walk the plank with our eyes wide open we
(walk the plank with our eyes wide open we)
Yeah we walk the plank with our eyes wide open we
(walk the plank with our eyes wide open we)

Some people offered up answers
We made out like we heard
They were only words
They didn't add up
To a change in the way we were living
And the saddest thing
Is all of it could have been avoided

But it was like to stop consuming's to stop being human
And why'd I make a change if you won't?
We're all in the same boat
Staying afloat for the moment

We walk the plank with our eyes wide open
(walk the plank with our eyes wide open we)
And we walk the plank with our eyes wide open we
(walk the plank with our eyes wide open we)

With our eyes wide open we
We walk the plank, we walk the plank

So that is the end of the story"

I'll be ok soon. And probably less cryptic too.