I’m sitting here writing this in the garden in the sun, which means I’m squinting to see the screen and my hayfever is making me sneeze. I brought a laptop so I could write in different places, get out of my room and away from the constraints of a desktop PC but so far it’s the first time I’ve ventured outside to use it.
I woke up really late today. I’ve been so unsettled for the last few weeks I can’t even remember the last time I fell soundly asleep or slept a whole night without being woken up by unsettling thoughts. Now things have finally ended and my soul needs to heal. But the downside of getting too much sleep is that you don’t feel like doing anything and that has been my day, in fact I considered not getting up at all but couldn’t be bothered to stay in bed.
I thought I would have a DVD and junk food day, but I got through one DVD and got bored. I thought I would do some cross stitch but my mind wouldn’t focus. I couldn’t even muster the energy to check in with my friends like I do most Sundays and don’t even get me started on the piles of ironing demanding attention, my usual Sunday chore.
The cat won’t leave me alone, he keeps knocking my leg for attention but I don’t even have the energy to play with him. I haven’t really had the energy to do much at all lately. Which just makes me feel guilty because I am surrounded by things that I have been putting off and work that needs my attention and there is no-one else to do it.
I’ve been feeling disconnected from my own life and that’s a weird thing to feel. So many things I once loved have lost their interest for me. I haven’t even enjoyed reading in a while, and books are my life. It might be that the book I’m currently reading is a struggle for me as it’s not keeping my interest in fact I’m hoping it doesn’t go deeper than that.
I’m surrounded by bird calls, various flying insects, dogs barking, kids playing, people barbecuing and cutting their lawns and I feel like I’m in a bubble with everything happening around me, I’m not contributing to any of it. In a way I am in a bubble and have been for a long time now.
I find it hard to trust people and let them in, I have ever since my problems at school. I let someone in and things ended badly and now I feel like I no longer want to be myself. The person I am doesn’t feel good enough and I have no energy left to try to be better and why should I? I thought I was a good person but seeing as people find me so hard to deal with I can’t help but wonder if I actually am as good as I think. After all, it can’t always be everyone elses fault that things don’t work out.
My brother asked me last night what was wrong with me as I’d hardly said a word, anyone who knows me knows this is a rare occurrence because talking isn’t usually a problem for me. I can usually find something to talk about with the anyone. But last night I had nothing to say.
I couldn’t even begin to find the words to tell him what had happened and how I felt and I didn’t have the energy to try. So I sat in silence staring into the distance watching two men punch each other for money. I should point out I was at the Froch v Groves Match not just randomly watching men fight. I’ll write my review of that experience later.
To borrow the words of Sheryl Crowe ‘I feel like a stranger in my own life’ and I don’t really know where to start to change it. I can’t really see the point in trying to change it only to end up getting hurt again. I have a few paths that are opening up and I should be excited and I should be focussing on that but I’ve lost my enthusiasm for them before they have even started.
When one door closes another door opens or so they say, but what does that mean?
What if the door that just opened is worse than the door that just closed? What if the hurt I closed behind the door was only a fraction of the hurt that lies behind the door that just opened? Can I just stay in the lobby between doors because right now this feels like the safest place to be?
I can’t give up, crawl under a rock and stay there. I have a life. It’s not the life I chose or the life I wanted but it is my life. There are some wonderful parts of it that I wouldn’t change, but they have been getting a watered down version of me for a while now whilst I was focussing my time and effort on a friendship that in the end I couldn’t save.
A part of me knew it needed to end, that’s why I forced the hand, I realised I would never be understood. I know in my heart I did all I could to prove the friendship was worth the effort, and just saying that I realise how wrong that is. It taught me that no matter what you do if someone doesn’t want to understand you they just wont, no matter how many times you explain they have the wrong idea. If someone chooses to ignore the problems in your relationship even though they know it will hurt you when all they need to do is talk to you then that’s when you have to walk away.
If the friendship was meant to work out it would have, all I know is I never want to end up here again.
That chapter of my life has closed, it wasn’t meant to end the way it did, I have regrets and there is hurt, maybe it’s the writer in me struggling with the bad ending. In real life there is no cut and paste, people have feelings and they get hurt. Sometimes that hurt becomes the making of them. Sometimes it chips another piece away from an already damaged soul. All I did was damage my soul.
If it were one of my stories I could have crafted the ending. I could have saved the day. I could have stopped myself from getting hurt, been understood and the friendship would have taken on a stronger direction, ultimately achieving the happiness I always thought I would find. I could even have crafted an ending where there was no hurt and instead the people drifted apart and found new people but I’m not always so optimistic in my writing.
I’m used to having a damaged soul so I’ll be fine. I’ll just pull up my walls and stop people from getting in again. When you experience the worst possible hurt you can at such a young age it becomes a familiar feeling. The older I get the more hurt I experience in all different ways, it’s the sad part about growing up. Your life becomes a series of experiences to learn from and not all of them end up putting a smile on your face.
All of the experiences you go through shape you into the person you are and as such not all of them will leave you with a positive outcome. Experience tells you one unshaken fact, you will wake up tomorrow and you will have to carry on. If I can wake up the day after losing my baby brother and carry on and eventually find a way to laugh again I can get over the hurt I feel now, because it doesn’t even come close.
Nothing will ever come close to being 7 years old and having to hold your family together, I truly wouldn’t wish that on anyone. It taught me to hide my feelings from others so that I could make life easier for them. It taught me to put other people’s needs before my own and I do this even now. I went through a course of therapy earlier in the year without the people I live with even realising I was depressed and in need of help. I relied on friends to support me through it instead and I’m grateful to every single one of them for their help.
No-one wants to listen to someone bleat on about having a broken heart or a damaged soul, so I apologise and promise to be more upbeat in the future, even if that means I fake it. Especially not when you could be listening to the birdsong in the sun.
If anyone has the number to call the Men in Black to erase my memory allowing me to forget, can you drop me a line, thanks ever so! I’m fairly sure once I forget what happened I’ll be able to find something close to peace again, I’m sure my friend already has.
I’ve just realised that our outside chairs are uncomfortable and I’m craving the comfort of my big leather writing chair and my desk. Even if that means I don’t get to listen to the bird call and feel the warmth of the sun on my skin. Maybe I’m not cut out to be the kind of writer who ventures out with my laptop capturing my mood as I travel. I might stick to a notebook and pen in future.