Loving can hurt. Or so they say.
It’s been months since the end and here I am, a little stronger but there have been moments where I am still as confused as ever. To be honest, there are days when I feel completely fine. I am happy, content and fulfilled with my life. My emotions feel in check and I’m on top of my game.
Then there are days when my memories with him come back to haunt me. Those are the hard days. Days when I feel like nothing is working out in my favour; days when all I want to do is curl into a ball and cry; days when I wish my heart was never so vulnerable and weak to have let him in; days when I just miss his entire being. It’s confusing – exhausting almost – to have such strong feelings of hatred and longing for one person all at once.
And I don’t talk about it. Firstly because my main support system is about 6000 miles away in London. I am now convinced that having a long-distance friendship is 100% worse than having a long-distance relationship. Honestly, all I do is vent up all my emotions until it goes away or wait until we have our FaceTime sessions. Work and other commitments plus timezone differences are definitely not in our favour. Secondly, I don’t want people to ask me unnecessary questions and give non-constructive advice. In my case, these sort of conversations tend to come from people to whom I am not close to or don’t really care about me (i.e. they just want information because people are generally inherently huge busybodies). I would rather be miserable than answer questions that trigger all my emotions and then get told, “Time will heal”. No thanks. Thirdly, I am trying to teach myself to deal with life when shit hits the fan. I think growing pains are necessary for developing yourself as a person. And this territory comes with trusting that God has the right plan for your life. This is where faith kicks in – because that’s what keeps me going.
I am happy but sometimes I let myself cry. I can enjoy a good day out but sometimes I end it by listening to sad songs that will trigger my entire range of emotions at night. I will laugh at jokes but sometimes I will miss his silly laugh and goofy smile. Maybe I’m a sadist, maybe I’m insane, or maybe it’s just my mind’s way of trying to self-heal.
Am I okay?
Sure, I am okay. Just not all the time.
Who’s happy 100% of the time anyway? Who is even keeping score?
But I’ve come to place where I’ve accepted that sometimes, it’s okay to not be okay.
And that is just fine too.
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