Day 159 (177) – The Last One
If you know me you’re probably aware of the breakup I just went through and you know it’s taken a whole lot from me. Not the person per say, but the whole experience has just broken me in a way I didn’t know was possible.
Seven months ago, when I didn’t even know this person I ended up falling in love with, I was mostly happy, very positive and optimistic. I had my group of friends, a job I enjoyed, had just moved to another city and in to an apartment that I adored and was just starting my second year at university studying my passion. Life was good to say the least. However, even though I’d moved cities and university I did not feel ready to leave my life in London, somehow something inside me kept telling me to just hold on for a little bit longer. So that’s what I did.
On October 6th, also known as my birthday, I got the most amazing birthday present ever, I met him, but I had no idea what I was in for. For the following month and a half my life was a rollercoaster, weekends were absolutely perfect and weekdays we’re torture, specially Mondays. Somehow, after a lot of tears, we managed to make it through that and by November 20th he was calling himself my boyfriend. If you could have seen the stupid smile on my face when he let the word slip, how I tortured him for it and pointed out that I had heard the word slip, that I hadn’t missed it. And that’s how the most amazing three months of my life began.
Sounds stupid, doesn’t it? The fact that officially it was just three months. The fact that three months could affect me in this way, or even just the fact that this one person could affect me so much then and still to this day.
Anyway, we used to spend weekends together up in London but very soon in to the relationship we decided that when he had his six month breakout clause in his leasing contract, which was March 20th, he would move down to Brighton, where I lived. This wasn’t a decision made lightheartedly or out of nowhere, we just realised it was the best thing for his mental health and for both of our economies. I used to get on the train on Thursdays after my lectures and go straight to his house and not come back to Brighton until Monday mornings right before my lecture. I wanted to spend as much time as possible with him.
I’m not saying it was a perfect relationship, Lord knows it was nowhere near it! We argued, we both said things that we regretted as soon as they left our mouths and we know all to well how to push the other persons buttons to get them angry or hurt them in the worst way. But through all the bad there was also a lot of good. Small things that would just melt my heart, confessions and honesty during our many long late night talks, walks around Camden holding hands on a cold Decembers day, iceskating, improvised romantic dinner-and-a-movie date nights… This one time I didn’t have the time to come see him before the shift and he had the night off, however when I got home I had a card on my pillow waiting for me from him. Another time I was sad and he came home with a bouquet of roses from work. Nothing major nor incredibly romantic, but it was the small things that always made me know he loved me. I don’t want to get to much in to detail because at the end of the day those moments were ours, his and mine, and thats where I want them to stay. Let’s just say that our lows were very lows and our highs were very highs, we didn’t really know how to stay in that middle area.
Towards the end of the relationship I could feel him pulling away from me, physically and emotionally and the fact that we had to then spend twenty days from one another didn’t help the situation. However, I thought that it was just me being paranoid and that if we could just make it through those twenty days then we were just a stone throw away from him moving down and us starting our life together in our apartment. I had dreamed about that moment so many times and had gotten used to living with him and having him around at all times.
The breakup itself shouldn’t really have come as a surprise to me, but somehow it did. He’d just gone through something that I believe put his life in perspective and he realised he didn’t want to be with me anymore. From my side it just seemed like another rough patch because I was aware that when we weren’t together he had a lot of things going on, he’s a busy guy like that, so the fact that we didn’t speak that much wasn’t such a surprise and the fact that I missed him but he didn’t have time to miss me wasn’t such a surprise either. But there’s me romanticising everything again, because obviously, that’s not what was going on.
At the time of the breakup I was doing a job where I was on my own for nine days (six from after the breakup) and I couldn’t go anywhere nor have someone over to help me because I was so far out. So I spent those following six days crying, crying a lot. I had no energy to do anything nor did I want to, I just sat and waisted away my week because I couldn’t handle to utter words out loud or to even think about doing something productive with my life. We had contact and got back to communicating very well and shortly after those horrible six days I got some kind of closure, or so I thought.
It’s now been a week and a half since he moved in to the apartment, because of course all of the arrangements for the move had already been made and it was still the best for his mental health, however he lives in the other room and now plays the role of housemate and best friend. Now, if anyone out there is considering moving in or letting their ex-partner whom they still have strong feelings for move in to your home, don’t. Be selfish, take care of yourself first, because let me tell you something, it’s not easy. Personally I can’t say no, and if I’m being completely honest, I didn’t want to either. I thought, nay, I knew we could crack this, I still do, but God damn in, it’s so hard.
Don’t get me wrong, I am well aware of the fact that we are not a couple, that we are not together. It just wasn’t our time right now, it might come in however long or it might not, no one knows. However, even knowing that and knowing that for the time being we are better as friends, it is still horribly painful. This is the person I saw myself having kids and growing old with and now I have to sit in the same living room as him watching him text someone else and just smile and pretend like I don’t notice how he turns his phone away from me when he’s on it like he did at the beginning, or how he flips it over so that I can’t see the screen in case he gets a text. I have to pretend like I don’t know when he’s lying or withholding information from me and I have to pretend like I haven’t cried myself to sleep more than once since he’s been here.
For the past month and however many days it’s gone back to being a rollercoaster. Some days I feel like we really do have a connection and like we are the only two people in the world, other days I feel like he tries avoiding me like the plague. It’s a weird thing because I need to remind myself every day that we are in fact, not together anymore, so he doesn’t really owe me anything, why the relationship didn’t work and also of the person he is and how he works.
Now, why did I start writing this? Well, because I’ve made a decision not to let him rule how I feel so much anymore. He’s so unaware of the power what he says and does has over me.. He really has gotten on with his life without me, even though it hurts that he’s done it so quickly and like we didn’t matter at all, I need to do the same, it’s what we agreed on.
So, the other night I took down all the photos of us and anything that reminds me of our time together from my room and put them away in a safe place along with my rings that he got me. I’m taking that as my first step towards getting better. It’s hard though, getting back to being happy after being with someone that made me so ridiculously happy. It’s like when I was with him I was on 150% happiness level and when he broke up with me I went down to a solid 10% happiness level and clawing myself out of that hole is hard. I’m aware that I don’t need anyone to make me happy, that I can and should be happy all on my own, but it’s like a really hard comedown or terrible hangover. I was on top of the world, I was up on Olympus and now I’m keeping Hades company down in Hell.
A friend of mine asked me to describe the feeling the other day and the only way I could explain it to them was this: “Feels like there is a physical black hole where your heart is meant to be, like you have no energy to get out of bed, take a shower or even eat, like everything you believed and everything you’d planned has been a lie, like you can’t understand what happened, like it isn’t real and you will wake up from this nightmare any time now… Its fucking horrible and painful and dark as fuck”. It gets better, it has gotten better in the past month and I’m coming to terms with our situation, but that doesn’t mean that I am ok, or anywhere near it. I’m getting by, taking one day at a time, trying to concentrate on me, my life, my friends and my career for the time being. He’s got me here when he needs me, I don’t give up on people and I’m not about to give up on him or on us, whatever that means, but for right now, I have to be selfish and take care of me.
Yes, it’s been a hell of a ride. Yes, it’s been the most painful experience of my life. Yes, I’ve probably literally cried about 10L of tears in the past six months. But it’s also been the best experience of my life. I’ve let myself love and feel things I’d never felt before. I’ve let someone in and felt every inch of their soul merging together with mine. I’ve got one of the best people I’ve ever known now fighting this battle agains life by my side. So no, I wouldn’t take it back and no, I don’t regret a single thing or second of it all.