Homework to mend a broken heart - a journal

1 Jan

Dear diary,

Screw this.

1 Jan (later)

Right, so my therapist told me to keep a journal. I told her that I couldn’t, that I’m too busy, to which she responded: “What about all the hours you spend obsessing about…?” (that would be you), which I thought was not really fair but here we are. I feel ridiculous writing to an inanimate object (a notebook), so I’m addressing this to you instead, which is kind of ironic as the purpose of this is to move on. From you. From us.

Was there ever an us, though? I feel like we didn’t quite get there, which is one of the most frustrating things from all of this – we didn’t even get a chance.

I’m not going to tell my therapist in case she thinks it’s “the wrong way to do it”

2 Jan

I forgot about my big mouth’s lack of self-control and this morning I told my therapist. She thought about it for a second, and then said it was fine, as long as that got me to do it, and, more importantly, as long as I never, ever, give or show this to you. Trust me – there’s just no way. No one is ever going to read… Whatever this is.

But anyway, I need to actually, you know, say something.

Let’s start with what brought us here: 1 week before Christmas you hinted you were going to make me your girlfriend. I remember the fireworks inside me, and smiling for such a long time that my jaw started hurting. I had big hopes and dreams, all featuring you, just you and me.

But only 3 days later, you were saying this clearly wasn’t working, and that we should stop seeing each other, at least for a while. I said that that worked for me and proceeded to slam your door, the same door in front of which I had felt excited and nervous so many times before, and I left. Leaving the building, I did not think about how that was the last time I was doing it, or about how I was not going to see you, maybe not ever again. I was too angry – you were unfair, unnecessarily mean, and yet, despite my best intentions to tell you that we were done, it was you who actually said it. I was angry with you, for how easy it was for you to do that, and furious with myself for being so weak.

We haven’t spoken since. Well, that’s a lie. The day after our fight, I called you. Twice. The first time you didn’t pick up, the second you hung up on me (rude). And then messaged to ask me to stop calling or you’d block me, and to just talk to my therapist. I smashed my phone in response.

I did have a session that afternoon, and I told my therapist about how much I despised you, etc., to which she (annoyingly) responded:

“What was the purpose of your call, then?”

“Well, to let her know that it was over, but that I was the one ending it. And…”

“But why, what did you want to accomplish with that?”

I did not have an answer to that, but eventually we concluded that I wanted to gain some control and power back, and that it was mostly my (deeply hurt) pride speaking.

“Let’s try something. You will have impulses to contact her again, but you cannot. That will give you some space to think and feel, which you definitely need to do as part of the grieving process. It won’t be easy – it will be uncomfortable, and painful. I would like you to journal, to write down everything that goes through your head, and to let yourself feel all the emotions, no matter how hard it gets. Only by doing that you will be able to move on and heal. Let’s start with a daily practice for one month. Do you think you can do that?”

I grunted but eventually said okay. I do want to move on. You’re probably moving on. You might be all moved on, actually, which infuriates me. Apparently it’s going to take me about 31 days to do it, which is a lot, but it is what it is. I told my therapist that I wanted to start on the 1^st of January, because then it would be easier to track the one month, and you know, new year. The truth is that the first few days were just too painful and I could not journal about it – I could barely breathe. The pain, the sense of loss, the hopelessness – too much. I have been punched on the stomach before so I know what that feels like, and it was nothing in comparison to the metaphorical punch I received from losing you.

3 Jan

Guess what?

I don’t love you. I don’t. I never have.

How could I love you when I just don’t know who you are? How could I ever love you, knowing that I know now, who you really are?

Please get out of my head, and my life. Now.

4 Jan

Yesterday was a bad day. I went through a rollercoaster of emotions, and I did not like any single one of them. But I FELT them, as instructed. I did not fancy it.

Today I feel a bit better, but I’m upset that it’s going to take this long to forget about you. The days go by slowly, and I’m not a very patient person. I wish I could just hibernate and wake up in a month and not even remember you exist. Yeah, I know that’s not how things work. But I wish they did.

5 Jan

I felt better today because I imagined that you’re also thinking of me. You can’t stop. You’re trying to forget me, how you felt every time you saw me, when I touched you, when I looked at you before I leaned in to kiss you. You hate that you can’t get through the day without the idea of me popping into your head, but the truth is that you’re helpless. You suck at moving on as much as I do. From me. From us. From what we had, and most importantly, what we could’ve had.

6 Jan

I’m aware that this way of thinking (imagining you’re thinking of me) is not really helpful. And I don’t even need my therapist to make me realise that, I can tell. Well, maybe I am actually getting good at this!

7 Jan

I’m not getting good at this. I’m all over the place.

8 Jan

So today I found out that the journaling for a month thing was not because that’s how long it’ll take me to forget about you – it’s just to create the habit of journaling and of being more aware of my feelings and thinking patterns. I feel… Deceived. I told my therapist, and she said that clearly, this was working, as I was already getting better at explaining how I felt. I thought she was being patronising, but that I did not say.

But since I’m clearly a natural at this – I FEEL a bit nervous about the prospect of seeing you tomorrow. I’m not sure if you will come, I won’t be surprised if you don’t, just to avoid me. Which hurts. Loads. But the idea of seeing you and not being able to be close to you or talk to you is also terrifying. But I’d rather feel that than the disappointment from seeing your empty seat.

9 Jan

You didn’t come. I kept looking at the door, even up until the class was over, hoping you would show up, even though it’s not like you to be late. People noticed and looked at the door too, confused. I did not care.

I put my guitar in its case very slowly, in a trance-like state, and did not notice Laura was waiting by the door, waiting for me. She asked me if I wanted to grab a bite, her voice bringing me suddenly back to reality, and I accepted because I could not think of a reason not to, apart from that I did not want to and would much prefer to go home and be sad on my own, thank you very much.

But it turned out to be a good idea, although I was having my doubts at first. She asked how I was feeling, told me she was sorry, that she had heard, from you, apparently (how did you tell her?). Fortunately, we changed topics and discussed the program of the semester, which neither of us loves. You probably wouldn’t, either. I then got sad when I remembered being at that same table, with that same Laura, wearing that same jacket (which she never takes off, not even during class), only a few weeks ago. I was telling her how well it was going with you, and she asked me how had it all started, who had started it, but before I could start answering, she said “oh actually I know, she liked you from the start”.

You liked me from the start.

You liked me from the start.

10 Jan

I’ve started to realise that it is a real possibility that I might never see you again. How is that even possible? How can I possibly get closure if I don’t see you? Can I get it I do?

11 Jan

I spent the day reminiscing. Mostly about the first few days, when we started talking more and more, and we went with the whole class to have a coffee. The first time you put your hand on my leg, under the table. The first time I put my hand around your back. Not for a long time at all, just enough to say what we needed to say: I like you. I like you, too.

We were so cute together. Everyone said it, even Robin (our teacher, in case you’ve forgotten). So why, why couldn’t this work? Yes, I know there were issues, pretty much from the start. But I thought we would make it work, somehow. Because we got along so well (at the start). Because you felt safe (at the tart). We saw each other in ways others could not see us.

You liked me from the start.

12 Jan

-1 degrees. It’s too cold to think. To feel. To exist.

But not cold enough, nowhere near enough, to freeze you in time.

13 Jan

I hate winter. This one in particular. I’ve been thinking about leaving London for good and moving to a warm country, maybe somewhere in the Caribbean.

But when I told my friends they reminded me I don’t do very well with mosquitos around. So I guess not.

14 Jan

The sun came out today. It was amazing to see the sunrise from the park near mine where I cycled for a while. You felt amazing too, when you arrived to my life. But no, you’re not the sun. You were just another star, one of many others, people that have meant something at some point in my life. But oh, you shined so brightly, you almost made me blind.

15 Jan

I woke up feeling positive, determined – I don’t need you, I’m taking back my life, I’m doing great things! And you know what? All that is true.

But I secretly preferred it when I was doing less great things and my life with full of chaos from all the back and forth between us.

I told my therapist I was concerned about the fact that I haven’t cried, and she asked why do I think that’s important. I said it seems like a crying-worthy situation, and she gave me as homework to try to figure out why that is. I think I’m just numb. There you go – homework? Done.

16 Jan

I was convinced you would come today.

But you didn’t. I was in so much pain that I had to check to make sure I hadn’t been accidentally stabbed. You’d think I was being dramatic, and I won’t deny I have a tendency to be, but you weren’t there.

That’s the thing. You weren’t there.

17 Jan

It was hard to get up this morning. I spent an embarrassing amount of time looking at the few pictures of us I’ve got. But I still haven’t cried.

19 Jan

I’ve started to realise (at last) that I really need to let you go. Just get on with it and finally close your chapter. The chapter that really felt like would turn into a book. The book. Our story. Our happily ever after.

20 Jan

This is all very confusing. Sometimes fantasize that you will come to class and tell me that you want to talk to me, and I imagine saying no. And it makes me feel amazing, strong. Other times I catch myself fantasizing you come to class and lift me up and hold me without saying anything. Or you tell me you’d like to fix things, that you’re sorry, you didn’t mean what you said. Even that you propose to me. How sad is that? And incoherent, considering everything that’s happened, and the fact that neither of us wanted to get married.

21 Jan

It’s been a month since the last time I kissed you. I wish I had known – not so that I could truly appreciate it, but because I would not have stopped.

I started this journal saying how I don’t love you and that I never have. And somehow, as I’m getting close to the end of the month, the very opposite feels true.

22 Jan

Today you messaged. I felt a burst of anxiety when I saw your name, and my head exploded with questions: why? What does she want? Do I want to read this? Will it hurt?

You said you’re coming to class tomorrow, and that you were hoping we could be okay being in the same room, even if we weren’t talking, but at least not make it uncomfortable for the rest of the class. I waited about 17 minutes and then replied that yes, I think we can.

And I’m almost certain that there is some truth in that.

23 Jan

So you did come to class today. When I first saw you I thought my heart was going to explode – not out of love for you, don’t get excited. It was anxiety, again. I tried to focus on the class, but it was hard. I wasn’t looking at you, I was trying to avoid it at all costs. But I knew you were there. I heard you asking questions (you have missed a few classes). I heard you play, pretty decently considering the same.

I did not miss any classes and yet I could not get the transition from E minor to F, not smoothly anyway, because all I could think was how? How did we get here?

24 Jan

Way. Too. Sad.

25 Jan

Back to imagining telling you to piss off. No matter what you ask – I always say no.

26 Jan

I’m not sure this is working. Every day I’m more confused.

27 Jan

I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure I thought of you from the moment I opened my eyes, until I closed them. Consistently.

28 Jan

I think I’m actually doing well, I didn’t think of you that much today. This is easier than I thought!

29 Jan

My therapist says the mix of emotions is normal and to be expected. That I am indeed making progress. I might fire her. Except I won’t, because I need to keep talking about you, and I think my friends are sick of hearing your name. They haven’t said, but I mean, I would. If you weren’t, you know, you.

30 Jan

You came to class again, we ignored each other again. I think we might be failing at trying not to make people feel uncomfortable. I guess this is what things will be like from now on.

31 Jan

Today you messaged me again. You said you’d like to talk, if I’m up for it. That it might be “beneficial”. My friends told me to really think it through, not to say yes if it’s because I want to see you, or because I always say yes to you, or because I will take anything you give me. I had already replied to you saying yes. I told them it was because I genuinely think it could help, that it will give us closure and it’ll probably allow me to finally let you go, to move forward. I think that’s the truth, but I understand their concerns. I cannot fully deny that the reasons they mentioned are not, at least in some way, also there.

What will you say? Will you explain why this was clearly the best thing to do, that you do not regret your decision? Surely you don’t want to talk just to say that, or do you?

I haven’t figured out what I will say, aside from that I’m sorry I called you when you had said we should not talk. I know what I don’t want to say – that I’m so glad it’s over, that I don’t miss you, that I’m doing so well without you. Neither do I want to say that I’m sad it’s over, that I miss you, that I’m doing… not so well without you (but I’ll be okay). All that, contractions and all, is true. And I trust you not to say anything to make me think that you still have feelings for me, even if we cannot be together. Because while I’m confident I can control what I shouldn’t say, I don’t trust how I would respond to that.