I spoke to my mother earlier and she wanted to make sure I was alright as the photo I posted yesterday was one where I ‘looked sad’. I am sad. I want to say this because 1. Talking about it helps and 2. Depression can sometimes be triggered by a series of unfortunate events that [while paved in good intentions and high hopes] were pretty god damn stupid to put into motion. The shame spiral starts and you’re right back where you’d last dug yourself out from. I’m coming to you from the room I haven’t wanted to leave in a few days but am happy to report: I made it out. I’ve eaten every meal. I’ve showered every day. I’ve made it to work. I sold my tickets to the concert I was supposed to see Friday. I’ve apologized to my incredible best friends for not having it in me to pull it together this weekend when we had plans. Texted my sisters I was sorry but it happened again. I won’t get into details, they weren’t anything anyone would want to remember. The familiar feeling that comes with a name displayed on a screen. Hearing their voice again. How they listen to the songs that were from a different time. Maybe we could go on a walk?
The first thing he said was ‘I’m so sorry I kept you waiting’. It was 5:36 and we’d had said to meet at 5:30. I laughed then and I laugh now. Both in the apology for those 6 minutes, and the last 60 days I now know he wasted my time. I’m so sorry he kept me waiting. I’m so sorry I fell for it and that I can’t get that time back. That energy. Those conversations. The look on his face when he said things that I believed with everything I’ve got. It was so real for me. Everything is now.
The words he used break my heart a final time aren’t ones I will repeat. But I will say that in the 24 hours since the final lie came out, in my time of mourning, I did say some things that were not very nice. What he said next, I will repeat. ‘You haven’t changed at all’.
Change is the thing closest to my heart these days. It is my sacred truth that reminds me that I’ve come this far and I need to keep going. One day at a time. His words have solidified in my mind. Replaced the memories I’ve spent the last few weeks longing for with the words of someone who had done absolutely nothing to help make sure I was in fact doing ok. How does it get to this? How does something so certain and so pure become something I feel physically sick thinking about? That is what is keeping me up tonight. The mess it becomes. Hollow. He’d slipped a koozie from the restaurant we ate at Thursday under my plate when I’d gone to get a soda. I’m looking at it now. There are parts of even that night that I could swear to you made it seem like he loved me. I would tell you all of them. Your eyes would narrow. My voice would break. I can tell you, all of you, what happened and it would still remain the same. People change. I know I have. He did too.
I’ll get past this again. My heart will mend one day and I’ll be able to listen to Yaz’ ‘Only You’ without a lump in my throat (something he boasted he was already able to do). But tonight, I’m feeling a little sad. For the love that was and the love that won’t ever be.
Heartbreak is never easy but it’s always a truth serum. I’ll be grateful for this pain one day.
Isn’t it funny? The truth just sounds different. – Penny Lane