Resting in emotional purgatory

I tell myself that I don’t need to fix everything all at once. That it’s okay to be sad, it’s okay to take a week or two or three to feel really sorry for myself. Sadness and regret are not dirty words.

I’ve never told you how much it hurt the first time, not clearly and passionately. I just withdrew, more and more as you did the same. I sometimes feel like I forced you into “calling it a day” too soon. I made myself fail so I could get the failure part over and done with quickly. It hurts again, much more now second time around. Except this time my head and my heart are pulling me in different directions.

Years ago we split up the first time. It didn’t feel quite right but I laid my trust in fate and waited. I wanted to tell you that despite being with you, I hadn’t had a great year. I’d had a terrible year. Now I realise how it sounded to you. I should have asked for what I wanted rather than waiting for it to occur to you. I didn’t want to keep asking you to take me out somewhere or buy me a gift you’d chosen yourself. I thought it meant more if you thought of it yourself, that all I wanted was just your time. I believe you when you say you didn’t know. But that’s the thing about time, once it passes, you can’t move backwards. And while it is nice that I realise all these things about our relationship, it is now too late. The time for this sort of hard thinking was years ago and I can only move on from here, keeping in mind all I have learnt. Except that I’ll be alone forever, my heart says dramatically, while you’ll have her and your sons. Did you see how well my head was coping there before my heart got involved?

I’m brooding, going through the motions of my life as if in a daydream, on the verge of tears most of the time. This is the worst part about gaining knowledge. What’s the point in doing all this torturous heart searching and coming up with the answers when it is too late? Now it just feels like torture to know the right response but also know that there is no chance to use it. I push on with my life, day by day.

I want to see you because I think I finally understand something. Then my head says, “What the hell are you doing? You’re giving him more ammunition for your ultimate embarrassment”. I want to wail, I want to cry in that way that gives you a headache for days and sends you into a deep headachy sleep, but nobody can understand. Tears roll down my cheeks as my head searches for plausible excuses to give anyone that sees. With my life as it is, there are no end of excuses. My own already strained relationship breaking down, my housing situation, my problems at work or stress from my children.

I knew this time would come, I wish I had told someone about everything as it was happening because now I am beginning to wonder how much of the last 18 months was made up in my head. I wish someone else had come along with me on the journey through all the highs and lows. The times when I thought we could make a life together when I believed you felt the same. Before my head made me look beyond the mask you had put up, I saw how much you missed your boys and it only made me love you more. I’ve always wanted what was best for you, I always felt you needed to stay close to them. I knew returning to London was not the right move for you.

I could never tell you what I needed because I couldn’t find the words. They shrivelled up inside of me whenever I heard that tone in your voice that told me that I was bothering you, interrupting your thoughts of them. I can talk to you about anything else that’s on my mind, meet your expression with my own, expression-on-demand. The look in your eyes makes me swallow everything I’m thinking. I want the words to tumble out of my mouth like an old story that I’ve never told anyone. But my head holds them in.

I didn’t know our last afternoon together was going to be our last. I’m aware of how stupid that now sounds. I get that old familiar feeling of wishing that I’d stayed in bed with you – held in your arms. I’d written you that verse – poured out my heart. “More ammunition for your ultimate embarrassment” this time my head is joined by my pride.

I close my eyes and my thoughts turn to you. I’ve known your face for so long that I can’t help but allow my eyes to travel to all my favourite spots. The stubble and the hair I used to love to touch and run my fingers through. Your eyes, eyelashes women would pay good money for, your lips and the battle scars of times when I wish I’d been there. You told me you wish I’d been there too. I was the person you wanted to see and you hoped that somehow I would find out what had happened and come to see you again. I have an urge to tell a joke just to get you to smile so I can check if your eyes are smiling too.


It was 9 years ago today when I first kissed you. An anniversary marked by the birthdays of my niece and your nephew. Every year I want to go back to that day, kiss you more, hold you more. How the hell am I going to get through life knowing that I am supposed to be with you? I thought this time it could really be it, the chance to set things on a new path, build the life I want to be living at thirty three. I have only been filled with longing rather than healing.

I'll be hurt again if you have another baby, if you get re-engaged and if you eventually get married. I'll be hurt if you died and nobody thought to tell me. I'll hurt when I can't go to your funeral and cry and mourn for you. It's all gonna hurt and it's gonna hurt bad. It will never really matter what I accomplish now in the face of the fact of what I have lost. I’ve lost you. I’ve lost you. I’ve lost you