How bizarre

It’s a weird feeling when you’re catching up on the reader and you’re drawn to certain words, knowing that you have seen them somewhere before.

It’s even weirder when realisation dawns and you remember that the words seem so familiar because they are your own, little nuggets of your soul that someone has taken and made their own. Is it coincidence they they thought of and documented exactly the same feelings you had two months previously. It seems unlikely.

So what do you do, do you confront them or should you take a certain pride in the fact that they liked what you had to say so much that they effectively stole it.

I don’t have much in my life, but I have my feelings and my writing and they will forever be my own regardless of where they present themselves.

You can copy, but can you really relate. You didn’t feel this pain, I did, and I owned and confronted it first.

An open letter to you

There’s a sadness that comes with an ending, any ending. Some we are prepared for and others we just have to face regardless of whether we are ready or not.

I think the ending of our friendship caught you unawares, I don’t think you believed that I would be able to let you go.

This was not an easy decision for me, in fact it was one that broke my heart. I didn’t want to lose you and I tried so hard to keep this friendship alive, despite everything that happened. There comes a point though where I think you instinctively know that there is nothing else you can try and you have to accept that you’ve reached the end of the road.

I forgave you for breaking my heart the first time. I’m smart enough to know that feelings cannot be conjured up out of thin air but I wonder if you really gave me, or us a chance. I think you had already made up your mind before we met and if that was the case perhaps it would have been better for you to walk away before we did.

After you had gone we still remained friends but I knew we were on borrowed time. I knew that when you found a girlfriend, knowing you loved someone else was going to hurt me. I was honest and told you this, but something kept drawing me to you, I didn’t want to let you go. I wanted this friendship.

When I found out you’d had a girlfriend for two months and that you had been lying to me that hurt, you knew my past and eveything I had been through before. Throughout our friendship the only thing I ever asked you for was trust and you betrayed that.

Every day since I found out I have relived moments of things you had told me, details of your life and where you had been that I now knew to be lies. Those small lies cut like a knife everytime realisation came crashing in, but still I forgave you. I forgave you because I loved you and you meant something to me, our friendship meant something to me, I wanted to salvage it.

You would tell me repeatedly that your girlfriend was ok with us being friends. It was easier for her, she knew about me for two months before I accidently found out about her and your lies. I find myself questioning her honesty, because if she was so ok with how things were why did she feel the need to ingrain herself into every aspect of your life and the time you spent with me. Perhaps on hindsight I was more accepting of the situation than she was.

Slowly but surely as the days passed I lost more and more of the time we spent together. I watched it all slip away, powerless to stop it from happening. I tried to adjust, I tried so hard, but I missed us, I missed our friendship. Even though you were still there it felt like I had already lost you and it also felt like you did not care.

I’d wait for you, conscious I only had the nights now that you chose. Someone sent me a quote once , it said something like ‘Some talk to you in their free time and others free their time to talk to you. Know the difference.’ I was learning the difference. It was a steep learning curve as I watched you give up on our nights or keep me waiting. Sometimes you turned up and sometimes you didn’t. You expected me to accept this. You expected that I would always be there and because I loved you, my friend, I always was. But it took its toll on me and as I watched you do what made you happy, all it brought me was sadness.

It became too hard, I’d be nervous on the nights I knew I was going to speak to you. Nervous about the fact you wouldn’t turn up but equally nervous about what would happen if you did. I constantly sought reassurance that I never really received. You need to be better at telling people your feelings, don’t just assume people will know, because they won’t, but deep down you know this.

I’d like to say this last 11 or so months have meant something to you, that I meant something to you, but you’ve told me so many lies I no longer know which of your words to believe.

You must think that I need a lot of attention, I don’t, I simply needed you to treat me like a friend you actually care about. Would you leave them sitting around for hours and not let them know, I doubt it. I wish you could feel just an ounce of the pain you have caused me.

If you ever do think about me, I hope someday you realise that I tried, but I got tired fighting for a friendship that was one sided. I got tired of being knocked down only to pick myself up and prepare for the next time. I got tired of being the kind of person that would allow that to happen.

I will always love you and I will always be there for you if you need me, but right now I can’t be around you, because I don’t like the person you have become. The kind, caring, funny man I fell in love with seems to have gone. I miss him.

I doubt you will ever contact me, but I knew this when I made my decision, I knew I had to be sure. I’m not, and I have no doubt that some days will be harder than others and I’ll always yearn for that one last chance to feel your arms around me.

I’m sure that I have not shed my last tears over you either.

Remember I loved you, more than you know, but I had to end this, because I need to start to learn to love and care about myself too.

That Weekend

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There are so many thought strands going through my head tonight that I don’t even know how to start to unravel and process them. There are things I want to say, but they can’t all be woven into the same post, and I am scared that if I do not note down the ideas then they will disappear.

I’m doing what I have been told, I’m using writing as a form of therapy. I’m getting it out there instead of letting it fester in my wonky top box.

I’ve been thinking about the weekend my person and I met. I’ve been wondering how I managed to get through it when he broke my heart about five hours after we met. ‘There is not enough of a spark’. Those words cut like a knife and shredded any hope leaving the previous 4 months I had spent falling love in tatters.

I’m sure some of you know that feeling, that hopeless, sick to the bottom of your stomach feeling. Perhaps it is a little worse for someone like me with anxiety but I think the underlying feelings of loss and heartache are pretty much the same for us all.

It was hard to try to smile and be normal when I felt anything but. I felt like I had lost everything, that I had lost him, because I knew there was no way anything was going to be the same in our relationship.

I tried to hide it and say that it was ok, this was what I expected and I guess it was, but I wasn’t ok, I was hurting. There is this moment when you want someone to see past the outside and look straight to the inside. Everyone says that is what counts, but it isn’t, or at least it has never been for me anyway.

I found Sunday the hardest day that weekend. I was emotionally exhausted because at night I would play every detail of our friendship over in my head and wonder how I had got things so terribly wrong. How had I even let myself get into this situation. I also knew that in a few hours I was going to have to say goodbye to this person for possibly the last time. I tried to hide it, but I think he knew.

I am one of those people who wears a mask. I will pretend that everything is all right but when I am alone, that is when I am at my most vulnerable.

I wish sometimes that the people who hurt us could experience just an ounce of that pain so that they could understand that everything cannot return to normal all at once.

 

Why didn’t you?

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Wednesday night was not a great night for me, I woke up at 4.30 am and despite begging myself, the darkness and indeed the universe to let me sleep, it would not.

I’m not a stranger to this no sleeping lark , it happens a lot when you have a brain that will not give you peace when it has nothing else to keep it occupied.

Thursday morning I had another counselling session and putting the lack of sleep along with the events of the day before I knew it was not going to be an easy one. On this occasion I lifted the box of tissues myself and moved them to my lap in readiness.

Counselling is a stark realisation of all the things that you know about yourself but keep a secret from everyone else, mainly because you do not want to admit them. Sometimes the truth can hurt and on occasions (more than a few believe me) it has made my eyes leak.

I told my counsellor I had been unable to sleep and she asked me what my usual outlet was and I said writing. She then asked why I had not got up and written about the things that were simmering inside my wonky top box and I had no answer, so I simply said ‘I don’t know’.

Why did I not get up and write? I suppose at that time of the morning I was thinking that in just a few hours I was going to have to get up for work. I was thinking that I know how emotional I can get on very little sleep and I was hoping that I would fall asleep eventually. I didn’t, I lay awake getting more and more frustrated until the alarm went off at 7 am. So basically, I should have just got up and fucking written.

It seems so logical when it comes from someone else, but unfortunately at 4.30 am I was anything but logical, or rational for that matter.

I used to care what people thought about my writing. I used to worry about what people would say or how they would perceive me, but these days I seem to care less, mainly because I realise how good it is for my mental health. Keeping things bottled up is not good.

When I started this second round of counselling I was not sure I was going to find it helpful, I felt like I was wasting peoples time, but I’m learning to realise that I am not. Being unable to love or even like myself is having a knock on effect on every part of my life.

The counsellor read me some statements on Thursday and told me that I pretty much ticked all the boxes regarding the subject matter it referred to. It scared me. She said I need to change and start putting myself first instead of everyone else and I agree, I’ve taken a back seat in my own life for far too long, but I don’t know how to change.

I suppose this is something I will have to learn and take one day at a time.

My counsellor holds no punches and they connect, but it is exactly what I need, so I am grateful for it and to her.

While I do not think I can be cured, I still have hope that I can be better.

The truth will out

Let’s go back a month. It’s only around 4 weeks, but it feels like it’s been a lifetime.

After my person visited it was clear that there were stronger feelings for me than there were for him. I accepted this, although it was hard. I again wondered why I was not good enough for someone.

With us both knowing what the other had been through I thought that trust and truth were a given in our friendship. He asked me once that there be no secrets between us and I asked him not to lie.

Around the the middle to the end of August I felt there was a change in our relationship. Small things didn’t add up and our nights became shorter. I asked him if he had met someone and he said no, at times becoming almost aggrieved that I would ask. Every time he reassured me and I asked that if he met someone else to let me know, he promised he would.

I began to question myself, worrying there was something wrong with me because I could not believe him. So much so I asked for a second round of counselling. I thought if I couldn’t learn to accept myself then I was never going to believe anyone else could either.

I was truthful, I did say that if he met someone else that I did not know if I could continue on with the friendship. He didn’t seem to understand that the hardest thing can sometimes be watching someone you love loving someone else.

He lied to me. I found out by pure chance one day that he had been in a relationship for two months and had not told me. I felt like I had been stabbed, but I also felt vindicated, I had been right all along and it wasn’t all in my head like he had tried to make me believe.

His reason for lying was that he did not want to lose the friendship and because I had mentioned before that I didn’t think I would be able to carry on. In some ways I could understand that, I had been in similar situations before, but I struggled with why it always had to be me who made adjustments, had to change. The truth is though that once your trust has been betrayed by someone you believed in, it is hard to gain it back. You begin to feel everything is a lie and you question all the little details of the friendship.

This is something he does not seem to understand.

Most days I feel that I need to walk away, but for some reason I don’t. I want to save the friendship, but at what cost to myself. When do you say enough is enough and realise that the thing that you thought was making you happy no longer is.

Only I can answer these questions, I know this. Right now I feel that he no longer wants me to be a part of his life, already he makes choices to shorten or cancel our time to spend with his new girlfriend. I can understand this too, but coming from someone who ended a friendship with his best friend because of the same kind of thing it feels a little hypocritical, as does him telling me this friendship is important to him. He told me the only way to he could make up for all the lies was to prove it means something, at the minute all he is doing is proving it means very little.

I want my heart to stop hurting.

One day at a time…

Broken heart

I know there is stuff in between that and this. Stuff that I have not yet got around to writing about. I’m working myself towards it, taking one day at a time.

I’m trying to be normal. Trying to pretend that everything is normal, but it isn’t. Everything has changed from where it was to where it is now and my heart is trying to play catch up with my head and failing miserably.

I smile and laugh, but when I am alone I pull off the mask. I’m tired, my heart hurts and I just want it all to stop.

My brain will not be quiet, it torments me when I try to sleep, and also when I am awake.

My lips will move and I will tell you I am fine, but the voice inside my head screams that you have broken me. You broke me when I thought you were healing me.

 

How do you go on

How do you go on when your life has been turned upside down and things you thought you knew were a lie.

I’m struggling to come to terms with everything that’s happened over the last few weeks. Trying to make sense of it and deal with it, but I’m sad. I’m sad every day

You’ll have to forgive my fractured writing, but I need to document things or I will drive myself crazy. The choice of whether you read or not is your own, but this space is for me, no one else.

The things that happened I expected, but not in the way they did, or that the the promises I asked be made would be broken.

I wanted to write letters, letters that detailed the hurt that the lies I have been told have caused. Perhaps it was my intention to one day share them, with him. I don’t think he yet fully understands the consequences of his actions or how hard it is for me to try and keep this friendship afloat. He has eveything he wanted and I feel I have lost everything. All hope is gone. Erased one Saturday afternoon when I though the world was actually ok.

How fucking stupid am I.