Just now, I was looking up a word on my Dictionary.com app and an ad popped up. One of the guys looked really familiar and then I realised it was W – J’s best friend.
I really hate being reminded of him, because then I remember again all that’s lost. Even after all this time, even with the knowledge of how things panned out, I stand by the legitimacy of what I felt. The magnetism was real. But we are also human beings, we play along to the rules of external forces. Timing wasn’t right for us, and life be like that sometimes.
Today was hella busy. Started at 8 30 and went for a full 12 hours. I’m exhausted! And also didn’t feel like I accomplished much? The actual worst- feeling like so much effort has been put into nothing.
Good food, good company, good music. This is what a great life is made of.
When my reminder came up on my phone to write a post for today, I started thinking about how great it is that I’ve maintained this for 156 days. One hundred and fifty six. I thought about those first posts and where I was then, how wrecked I felt, with nothing left to be destroyed. And now, 156 days later, I’ve built new foundations from the rubble and each day I get higher and further away from the bits and pieces of the devastation.
In the last 156 days I’ve found happiness again, and learned to value both the exciting and mundane in life. I started dating someone new who cares about me, and who I really care about and makes me feel giddy like a teenager. Most of all, I have deepened friendships with my closest lady friends and that’s the most beautiful thing to come from this. They helped me put my heart back together.
I haven’t written about him in a long time. Mostly because I’ve had other things, other people on my mind, because my life has been filled in other ways- not because I haven’t thought about him.
Truth is, I still think about him most days, and not just once or twice. I still wonder what he’s doing, where he is, who he shares his life with now. I thought I wouldn’t anymore, especially now that I have O in my life. But I do. And I want to stop but I don’t know how or when or why I can’t. The thoughts manifest into dreams and I can’t escape him even in my sleep. I like to think that I think about him less as more time passes but honestly, I don’t know that it is. That scares me. How much longer will this failed love haunt me?
I believe that we carry all the tenses of our being, that all the past versions of who we were shape the who we are. Maybe it’s that the past versions of who we were roll into who we are now, that they’re intrinsically woven together. The girl who had her heartbroken is so familiar to me still, it’s hard to differentiate what was then and what is now. I can still draw up the pain of rejection and unrequited love and feel it keenly. Certain songs will instantly knock me back to that place of brokenness and hopelessness.
The one thing that I keep coming back to is knowing that I did all that I could. I said everything I wanted to say and that’s all you can ever do. There will be people who don’t reciprocate the way you feel and that’s life. But I will never have to regret not saying enough. If there’s any regret, it’ll be on him.
Some months ago, I couldn’t fathom a life that didn’t perpetually mourn the loss of him. Now I can recognise that the loss is an event in the past and while my present self can remember what that awful time was like, I’m not currently experiencing that loss at the moment. I’ve been reading The Body Keeps the Score and learning that we need to integrate painful past experiences into our present so that we can live freer futures. So that’s progress right? I’m part of the way there! One day I won’t think of him anymore, in the same way that I don’t think about my first boyfriend. I’m not there yet but I will be, one day.
Tonight, sitting on a grassy bank watching live music, drinking beer and chatting with friends, life felt so.. wholesome. One of those moments that make you realise – yes, this is what it feels like to live.
Life feels bleh. Work feels bleh. Everything is bleh.