a folder full of heartache

Posted: December 19, 2013 | Author: | Filed under: memory lane, this is love | Tags: , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Yesterday I took a trip down memory lane. It was kind of unintentional, in that my purpose wasn’t to reminisce and get painfully nostalgic; my purpose was to finally sort through the videos that have been in the folder named ‘VIDEOS TO SORT’ for the past three years or so. I’ve been in a file-organising ‘mood’, which roughly translated probably means I know my life’s a mess, but forget that and just look how tidy my file system is! Or something.

Anyway. Happy moments we captured on our phones, stored on my hard-drive forever. Notice that I said ‘organising’ and not ‘deleting’. I can’t, and won’t, delete traces of him from my computer to symbolise the end of our relationship, or so that I can move on, or because that’s what the advice columns tell us we should do after a break-up. This isn’t Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind, and even then, deleting memories turned out to be a waste of time.

Memories are all we’re left with at the end of the day. When all else is said and done, they are the only things that are truly ours, that we take with us to the grave. But memories have a habit of fading over time… until something – it could be a song, a photograph, a smell, a video – triggers it and we’re right back in that moment again.

Most of the videos I organised were footage of gigs we went to, but it’s not just the gigs I remember (although some of them were AWESOME). With the help of several exchanges between us that I overheard in the recordings, I remember what happened before and after those gigs. I remember how good I felt in those moments. I remember what my life was like then – not only the good, but the bad as well. But mostly, I remember an important part of my life, and the person who played such an important part in it.

So I won’t be deleting those videos. Just in case I get senile dementia, or just plain sentimental, I’ll be putting them into a folder with his name it, and filing them away somewhere safe. At least if I look at them again, it will be intentional, and maybe I will be prepared for the heartache.

in the end

Posted: December 13, 2013 | Author: | Filed under: this is love | Tags: , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The weekend is almost upon us, again. I do hope it’s not a repeat of last weekend.

Last weekend I did nothing, except listen to Linkin Park, wallow in unbearable emotional pain, and cry. Yes, I know I’m pathetic. But at least I have exceptional taste in music. Hybrid Theory and Meteora (played in that order) are the perfect break-up/fuck you/fuck everything albums. And if there’s another album in the history of popular music that I identify with more than I do Hybrid Theory, I certainly haven’t heard it yet.

So yes. Self-absorbed.

Then he rang. Sunday evenings are his favourite time to call – on the back of a two day drunken bender. Excellent. I was completely sober. It was such an absolutely pointless and utterly ridiculous ‘conversation’ (I use the term loosely), that I hung up on him. I just couldn’t be bothered any more. What was I crying about? A thoughtless, selfish, drunken idiot who can’t act appropriately or with any respect? Apparently, the answer to that was yes.

I haven’t cried over him since that phone call. If there’s another call this weekend, I won’t answer it. There is no point, anymore.

“I tried so hard, and got so far, but in the end it doesn’t even matter.”

i wonder

Posted: December 8, 2013 | Author: | Filed under: this is love | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

I wonder if you wish that I was with you, or if you’re glad that I’ve gone.

I wonder if you feel the same loss that I do, or if you feel that you’ve won.

I wonder if you would change anything,  try to undo the wrong.

I wonder if you even realise what it is that you done.

I wonder so much about you.

It takes so much of my time.

It leaves me feeling broken,

And going out of my mind.

I wonder if you wonder about me. I wonder what you think.

I wonder if you’d love me if you didn’t have a drink.

‘never’

Posted: November 26, 2013 | Author: | Filed under: this is love | Tags: , , , , , | 3 Comments

I was tidying my room. Hanging up my favourite dress. The memory of him saying it was pretty flashed before me.

What if I never see him again?

Never say never, they say. But I can’t help feeling that I’ve let him go, and he’s gone.

How can letting go of the love of your life ever be ‘for the best’? That doesn’t even make sense.

Hold me.

the ugly truth

Posted: November 21, 2013 | Author: | Filed under: this is love | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

This blog is like a tool, excavating things that I can’t seem to excavate on my own. For no sooner had I written about not falling apart, the process started.

If this relationship has taught me anything, it’s that love doesn’t conquer all, no matter how big or true that love is. He’s changed, but my feelings for him never have. I developed new feelings, like despair and disappointment, but my core feelings overrode everything else. He isn’t the man I fell in love with anymore, but I’ve carried on loving him anyway. I’ll probably always love him.

But as much as my heart doesn’t want to admit it, it knows I can’t be with him anymore.

If he came to me sober, things would be different. I think we would have a fighting chance. But I don’t have a fighting chance against alcohol. I don’t even think he realises how much it changes him, and how much damage it’s done. He plays it down (‘I’m not even that drunk’), or flatly denies things he’s said and done… probably because he can’t even remember saying or doing them. So he thinks I’m imagining things, but I’m not. If only I was.

This may seem hypocritical, given that I’ve already admitted I’m an alcoholic. But there’s a distinct difference between us. I don’t drink at every opportunity I get. I drink every evening, but I don’t get shitfaced drunk every night. I drink more when I’m with him, but even then I can still function. I keep a clean and tidy house. My kids are well cared for. I’m always well-presented, even if I’m a complete mess inside. I don’t know how I do it sometimes, but I do.

He drinks whenever he’s not at work. That’s every evening, and every day he has off. So it’s not unusual to see him with a can in his hand at eight o’clock on a Saturday morning, and once he’s started, he won’t stop drinking until he passes out. When he wakes up, he’ll carry on where he left off. He’s fallen over in the house, in the street, in bars and in shops. He’s even pissed himself where he’s been that drunk.  I’ve recently noticed (despite trying really hard not to) that he doesn’t take much care over his appearance anymore. His clothes are nice enough, but he’ll spend the weekend with me, and not once use the shower, brush his teeth or change his clothes. Sometimes he’ll even sleep in them. Dishevelled is the word, and it ain’t pretty.

He’s a mess, and I know that you can’t trust anything someone says or does in that state, whether it’s good or bad. But I still take it all so personally. It’s hard not to. Especially when it’s all that there is. And it breaks my fucking heart. I’ve been through hell for him, and I would go through even more if he wanted to get help. I can’t help him, because he doesn’t want to be helped. So I have to give up. All I can do now is try and help myself.

He was the love of my life, and after ten years, this isn’t going to be easy. I walk away knowing I tried my hardest to stay with him. It’s just a crying shame that in the end, it wasn’t enough.

keeping a distance

Posted: November 7, 2013 | Author: | Filed under: this is love | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

We used to live together. I wish that we still did, but at the same time, I know it’s better if we don’t. I don’t really think absence makes the heart grow fonder, but it definitely keeps us from killing each other all the time. More space, less damage. I’m grateful for both.

I can do what I want, when I want. I have the bed all to myself and I can read, sleep, masturbate and cry in it when I like. I choose what music to listen to, which TV programmes to watch and if I just want to sit in silence and stare at the wall, I can choose that too. Having my own space is great.

Sometimes though, I don’t want any space. Sometimes I just want to look across the room and see his stupid face looking back at me. Sometimes I just want him here, with me, around me, in me. Sometimes I feel like a part-time girlfriend, and I don’t like that feeling very much. Sometimes I wonder if we’ll ever sort this out and sometimes I wonder if this is as sorted out as it’s ever going to get.

I wish I knew how to have a normal relationship. I imagine it’s nice. Maybe?

loved up

Posted: November 4, 2013 | Author: | Filed under: this is love | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

I didn’t really have a plan when I started this blog. And I didn’t realise how fucking angry I am with myself until I started this blog, either. I certainly didn’t plan to beat the shit out of myself. All I knew was that I needed to get things off my chest, and I needed to write. I’ve denied myself of both these things for far too long, because… because I’ve become very good at doing things that are bad for me and bad at doing things that are good for me, I suppose. I really am my own worst enemy. Starting this blog is the kindest thing I’ve done for myself in ages, even if the words themselves haven’t been very kind.

So I’m just going with the flow, writing about whatever is playing on my mind when I sit here and stare at this screen. My plan now is to keep doing that.

Today, my relationship is playing on my mind.

We spent the weekend together. We almost didn’t, but I am so glad we did. We talked and shouted and cried and laughed and cuddled and when we said goodbye, I wished that he didn’t have to go. I wished we could just stay together like that all the time. I wished we didn’t have to separate every Sunday. I bloody hate Sundays.

The distance does put a strain on our relationship, but I feel more positive about us than I have in such a long time. I feel loved. You don’t even know how rare it is for me to feel like that. Its quite magical. And it might just be the change I need.