The river

  
If getting better means I am no longer so anxious I grind my teeth at night, then I am getting better. If getting better means that I no longer feel compelled to write about my unhappiness all the time, then I am getting better. 

 I am best off with people – and have had some fun times with friends and my daughter since I last wrote here, but I no longer have to be busy at all times in order to avoid thinking about him. I’m no longer so angry with him it plays on my mind and no longer so tearful I can’t work or play.

 The anti-depressants have numbed me – which is welcome. They’ve given me insomnia – which is not. I am taking sleeping tablets for that. Over all, I feel I have turned into a slightly irritable zombie, with the ability to still put on a good show. For once I have few plans in my diary. He is still in the back of my mind as an unlwecome presence every single day. He has put a photo of himself back on Linked in and I got really angry about that. Why can’t he just disappear from my life, from my industry? And then I looked at him and felt so distant from someone who made me the happiest I have ever been in my whole life and that made me so very sad again.

I simply cannot imagine dating anyone ever again. I am sure I will, I just can’t imagine opening myself up to that potential hurt again. But equally I cannot imagine living out the rest of my life in some kind of asexual loneliness.

I am bemused at all the advice. Our society is obsessed with happiness these days – with our not having to worry about the basics any more, putting bread on the table (or rather ciabatta) isn’t an issue, so we worry about fulfilment and self actualisation. There are clearly two camps.

 1) there is the “suck it up and move on” camp. That filled with those highly pragmatic people who feel that life is full of ups and downs and you just make the best of it. The brigade which feels that you can always cause yourself to be happy in spite of your circumstances.

2) there is the” feel how you need to feel – don’t pretend to feel happy when you’re not “camp. The “work through the grief ”

 I think the robust and resilient way to deal with life is the former. I wonder if this isn’t an ability learnt over time from having dealt with multiple setbacks? . For the last five years I have been incredibly reslient when it comes to work. Comes from turning a business around over 9 months which meant we hit rock bottom on many occasions. But we finally came ever so good.

 But it wasn’t always the case. For most of my working life I have been insecure, worried about what my bosses and peers and teams thought of me, whether I was liked or not. Now I just know I’m good and if they don’t trust me to get on with it, then they soon will.

 So perhaps it is confidence. In ones innate attractiveness as a proposition, in the knowledge there will be someone round the corner who is right.

 Having him in my life, my arms, my bed made me ecstatic in a way that nothing else has ever done. I miss it terribly. I don’t miss the eternal angst and in my more prescient moments I know that his guilt would have meant we would have suffered greatly. 

But I am still terribly sad.

I don’t think I will write here again. The length and depth of my suffering is embarrassing and the compulsion has gone.