Building a bridge

In response to my last post, one of my friends–who I am fairly certain is the only person checking this blog anymore– expressed concern for me over how sad it was. I was focused on the work bit of it, while she was focused on the ex part of it. I’ve known for awhile that something’s not going right here in my “cry-me-a-river-build-me-a-bridge-and-get-over-it” phase. I’ve cried the river, but I haven’t built the bridge and I’ve certainly not gotten over it. Like all construction projects, it seems my bridge was halfways built when there was some sort of union issue and construction has shut down indefinitely. So now here I am, my river of tears all cried, and no way to get over it. 

We broke up in September. For good. I keep having to tell myself it’s for good, and I do know it’s for good, but my heart still fights me on that front a bit. I have days where I think I’m fine. I’m getting on, happy even. But then something great will happen, I will have a nice drink, a nice meal, see a nice view, and I will wish he was there to see it, taste it, and feel it with me. Or worse, something bad will happen and he is the first person I think of to tell it to. I spent many, if not all, of my most defining years loving this person. It’s not so easy to wash that away. I see other people do it all the time, jump from spending years with someone to dating the next person that comes along. I guess that isn’t my style. I don’t think it’s very fair. I wish I could of course. I’d flip my feelings switch and be on my merry way. Unfortunately, I’m more the type to lay in bed at night, try to force the good memories out and focus on the bad, try to get my construction workers moving on building the bridge to get over it again. I don’t know how long it will take. The freeway on the way to my aunts house has taken nearly 7 years to get built. I’m not thinking it will take that long, but who knows with these types of projects, really? 

Changes?

For my ex’s birthday this year, the first that we hadn’t been together for in 5 years, I made him a video. It was with a song that was very dear to us and photos of us over the past few years. It sounds silly now writing about it, but it meant a lot to me when I made it. I think around his birthday was one of the hardest times for me since I came home. It makes sense though, his birthday is around Valentine’s day and he was in South America on a trip that I wasn’t happy he was on. I had a fleeting moment this evening where I considered watching the video, but I know now it would hurt far too much.

I’ve finally accepted things are over. I am making steps towards moving on. But at the same time, it feels as if these steps aren’t taken of my own accord, but rather because I am being pushed. There are two things in the world I know to be true: 1) I love my ex and 2) he loves me. But somewhere in between these two things, something has gotten all messed up and it’s not going to come back together. Now I have to figure out how I can be pushed to move on and balance my feelings for my ex in the face of something new. Is it even fair to date someone new? And if it isn’t then what am I supposed to do? Sit here forever alone and wait for when my ex inevitably moves on and have it slowly drain the life out of me? 

I dreamt about him last night. I dreamed he had moved here. In my dream I was happier than I can remember being in a long time. I remember smiling in my dream and it was a smile that went all the way to my toes. I haven’t felt that since I moved back here. I know it wouldn’t work out so smoothly in real life. I know it’s never going to happen. It seems so cruel and so unfair, that I can be so sure of my love and he can not feel the same thing. But here we are. It’s time to stop wondering, and let myself be pushed, even if it feels like it’s off a cliff.

I want to be as happy as I was in my dream. The last time I talked with my ex, we both said we wanted each other to be happy. I don’t think that’s entirely true. I want me to be happy and I want him to learn to be happy with me. I don’t want him to be happy with someone else. I know I sound like I’m in 3rd grade writing this, but oh well. This is my word-vomit and I’m sticking to it! Of all the things in my life I have been jaded and cynical about, and trust me — that’s a lot of things, I would say that my outlook on love is the most jaded now. So as I start letting myself be pushed by circumstances into these tiny baby steps of moving away from the person who I’ve loved the most in the world, I need to change my attitude about love. I don’t know how, but I know I need to. I guess that is the next part of what I’ve got to figure out. I really feel like somebody should’ve told me how shit your mid-twenties can be, because I came into this entirely unprepared. I guess Love Stinks is a song for a reason.

Why is it so much harder not to do something when you’re specifically trying not to do that thing? I can eat relatively healthy a lot of the time, but when someone specifically says I CAN’T have cake and ice cream all three meals of the day, that is all I want to do. I used to be fine to go a few days without talking to my ex. We have now decided it’s not a good idea to talk and, because I have very little self control when it comes to things relating to him, I’ve blocked him on Whatsapp. Of course there are still a few hundred ways we could contact each other, Viber, Skype, regular texts, regular calls, emails, snail mail, etc. but it feels like cutting off Whatsapp, our previous main form of communication, has really put and end to things between us. I still think about him every minute. I still want to text him everything. Everything still reminds me of him. I still love him and want to be with him.

I wish us not talking was having this same effect on him, but I know it’s not. I know he is not going to realize what he is missing due to us not talking. I know that realistically, this is the end of “us” and even more sadly, it’s the end of our friendship. It’s almost 5 years to the day from the time we started seeing each other and now we are barely friends. To me, this is one of the worst things that’s ever happened. I don’t think he is upset. I don’t think he feels anything about it at all. This is what I have to remind myself of when I want to text him. When I am wishing and hoping beyond hope that someday he will walk back into my life, and when I’m daydreaming that he will just stroll into my room like he used to and we will settle in to watch The Office or some Louis. If he asked me to come to Canada next weekend, I would be on the next flight. I know I could never ask him to come here…well, I could ask him, but I know he would never come. Sometimes I do wonder if he ever has to tell himself not to contact me. I know he doesn’t, but I do sometimes hope that he does. I sometimes hope he struggles with this as much as I do, even though I know he doesn’t. He doesn’t because this is part of his choice. He doesn’t want me and as a result of that comes us not talking. 

Sometimes I wish I could just scream at him and shake him until he understood how much I love him and how much I hate this. But he won’t ever understand, because he doesn’t feel the way I do. I just hate everything about this. I know it’s a normal part of growing up, and more importantly, a normal part of breaking up. But damn it if it isn’t the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I want him around. And now he isn’t. I just have to keep struggling, keep my head above the water, and hopefully someday the urge to tell him everything will go away. Maybe he won’t be the first person I think of when anything happens to me. My first thought won’t be of him in the morning. I still doubt there will ever be anyone else, but now I feel like at least if I could get over him I’d be happy enough to just be alone. But until that day, I will just keep yelling at him in my head , praying he contacts me on some other form of communication because he misses me so much, and hoping beyond hope that I see him again someday and it makes him change his mind.

Get me off this crazy thing, called love

 

The thing about spending 5.5 years living side by side with your best friend and also spending most of those years dating them is that you grow up so much in that amount of time. Fads change, new songs come out, you buy new clothes, and for me it all inevitably reminds me of him. There are pieces of him in every part of my day, even though we live in different countries now.

I sleep in one of two things: his GAA shorts or a pair of boxers that my mom got me in Canada that he loved. Every time I look at either of these things I think of him and I remember all those nights when we would watch movies in bed. Maybe I need new shorts.

On my wall hangs a beautiful framed picture of the Claddagh from his brother and fiance. I think about them and I wonder how they are. I always liked them. I wish I was going to the wedding this summer more than anything. I was sitting at the kitchen table at his parents house with everyone else when the two of them announced their engagement. I am so happy for them.  And sad because I won’t be part of any of their milestones anymore.

I wear a necklace his parents gave me when we were all in Kerry. It’s a standing stone made by a local artist. I treasure it more than almost any other piece of jewelry. I think of them every time I glimpse it in the mirror. I wanted to cry when they gave it to me. I loved his parents so much. I know they really liked me as well. His dad took me down to the corcass out the back of the house the last time I was there. I’ll always remember it. We talked about a lot of things: what it was like for him growing up there, planting the land, and how he hopes his kids will come back and have their homes there. I know I would if I was them. I could talk about almost anything with his mom. His mom and I both love reading and history and we would talk about those things a lot. I still text her when I read a book I know she would like.  I will be so sad when he gets a new girlfriend and they like her or love her more than me.

Friends reminds me of him. Scrubs reminds me of him. Pretty much every movie that has come out in the last few years reminds me of him. Old movies that we loved and shared with each other remind me of him. Almost every song reminds me of him. Even if we never heard it together, it’s like I have a stupid memory to go with any arbitrary reference a song could make.

How are you supposed to forget someone when they are woven into the fabric of almost everything you touch and see all day? I know it’s time to give it all up. We don’t want the same thing. But even if I never spoke to him, I’d always think about him. I’d still miss his family. I’d still think of him whenever I see  Titanic, or a cute puppy, or watch a good documentary about physics. Sometimes it feels like he is so much of who I am that it doesn’t make sense for us to not be together. It’s a little mind boggling that he doesn’t feel the same way about me. It has to be one of the great injustices of the world that someone can feel so much for someone and the other person doesn’t HAVE to feel the same way. It’s no one’s fault though, it’s just the way it is. But how does the first person make it stop? How do I untangle him from every aspect of my day? So much of who I am today, who I grew to be, is because of him. (I know my friends will hate reading this post, but even if they do SORRY GUYS IT’S MY BLOG!)

I guess this next part is the big adventure…finding out who I am as a result of our time together and figuring out how to be that person without him. Then figuring out who I am today. I know part of me will always love him and I think that’s ok, because he contributed so much to who I am as a person. But I guess it’s more than time to start figuring out how to be me without being in love with him. I can’t promise it’ll even work, but I know I have to try harder.

Planes, buses and automobiles.

These are the planes, buses, and automobiles that keep me up awake at night, stewing, wondering, wishing….

Automobiles: The first night I met him, we went to a rugby match. We talked the whole time. We got on so well, right from the word go. We made each other laugh a lot and bonded over South Park and Team America, of all things. We went to a diner, that later became a spot we frequented a lot, and got milkshakes. On the way out the door, he shoved me into the street right in front of a car. From them on we were best friends. Naturally.

Buses: One year from the time we started dating, I moved back to Ireland. I got the bus from Shannon to Galway, but passing through Gort the bus broke down. I had to borrow a girl’s phone to text him and tell him I’d be late. He had to take the morning off work to meet me and show me how to get to his house. We didn’t know how much time he’d have before he had to go back to work with how late the bus got in. When we pulled into the station I saw him from the window of the bus. He was wearing his blue O’Neills hoodie with the yellow stripes. I got off the bus and went to hug him before I even collected my luggage. I felt more than ever that I was home.

Planes: He came to Dublin Airport to meet me when I arrived. I hadn’t seen him in a month, but somehow it felt much longer. We’d planned the trip spur of the moment. His brother was in a cycling race that would take him around the circumference of the country. I’d been invited to join and would also be there for my birthday. My phone wasn’t working when I landed, but we found each other anyway. We always just seemed to have a way of finding each other. The airport arrivals was very crowded that day, but to me there was no one else there at all.

Automobiles: Things had been shaky for some time. There was a girl I was quite jealous of and he’d gone to the beach with her and some others. I screamed at him on the phone. As much as he didn’t like me when I screamed, I equally disliked myself when I became that person. He came home and texted me that he was sitting in his car outside the apartment. I went out and sat in the passenger seat. That’s when everything ended. I’d tried to end it the week before, but it hadn’t stuck. We had agreed we couldn’t give each other up. I was ready to work at it. I was ready to fix it. But this time it stuck.

Buses: I got to the bus station first. It’d been a long journey, I was wearing sandals, and it was freezing. I was sat on the bench outside the bus station and could feel my toes turning to stone from the cold. His bus arrived from Limerick late and I’d been waiting at least an hour at that point. I saw his head in the window. His hair was the first thing I recognized. I stood up to walk down the few steps from the station to the bus and could barely move my toes at all. He got off the bus and we kissed right away. I forgot about how cold my toes were after that.

Planes: The day I left Ireland was the worst day of my life so far. He drove me to the airport. We both cried on the way there. I begged him to turn around and take me home. Somehow we both got through checking me in, I had to pay extra for my second bag which, if you know me, makes things even worse. We sat down and cried again. He had to go to go work, so we said goodbye at the sliding glass doors. I’ve never dreaded anything more. I watched him walk to his car through the glass. I can still perfectly picture seeing his head over the roof of the car. I ran back out to the car then. We cried again. I wonder now what the people around us thought. My world was ending and they were watching. I couldn’t watch him drive away. I called him as soon as I got through security, and I cried asking him to turn around and please come back and get me. I flew to London. I called him again. It was lunch, the time he would come home from work and we’d make sandwiches together and watch Jeremy Kyle or something equally intelligent together if I wasn’t at college working on my thesis. I said I missed him already, he said he did too of course. We must’ve said I love you a hundred times that day. 11 hours later I landed in San Francisco. I saw my family and I cried. I was supposed to feel like I was home, but I couldn’t have felt further from it.

These are the planes, buses, and automobiles that keep me up at night.