Today is a day for silence, of sorts. For now, at least. I want some time alone.
For those who aren’t aware or haven’t figured it out, I moved out of my apartment with Jay weeks ago. I’ve been staying at a friend’s house, in her basement. I’ve taken many of my things and the cats with me. I surround myself in the familiar because everything inside is unfamiliar now.
It was my choice to leave. I had nothing, no money, no job, and only through the kindness of a friend a place to stay. I still have nothing, except that place to stay, and whatever I took with me. There are many things going on, most of which I will not go into detail over. It was my choice to leave, and I don’t regret it, but that doesn’t make it easy to live with all of the time.
I isolate myself because too many friends are mutual and want to see us happy, together or otherwise, and I don’t need any more conversations to that effect. It isn’t about us anymore. It hasn’t been since I left, although taking myself outside of the person I am with him has been incredibly difficult. Sometimes I fall back into it, and it doesn’t ever feel quite right.
People mean well, but they don’t understand, for the most part. I isolate myself because, even if I have endless things that I need to talk out with someone, there are very few I can feel comfortable talking with, and the level of comfort needed right now is one that I’m incapable of achieving with anyone. It’s not necessarily their fault that I don’t trust them. There isn’t much left of that part of me with the capacity to trust. I may not be broken, but I’m certainly in pieces scattered on the wind, and I don’t have the energy to chase after them quite yet.
I think it was a mistake talking to him last night. I only felt worse afterwards. I had hoped for us to be something that we weren’t, and when I fall I start looking for that again. I can’t look outside anymore for such things. Of all the people you will ever love in a lifetime, the only one you can never lose is yourself. I have to find that quote and put it back on my wall… I have to learn to cry alone again. I have to learn to cry at all again. I have to accept things that I don’t want to consider about myself, my past, my life. I have to think about me for a while. Maybe a long while.
A lonely trip I can see this being. I started it once, then backed away. I don’t think I can afford to do that any longer. I don’t want to be the same in five years, ten years… I had dreams once, long forgotten, and I want to remember them, create them, live them… but that isn’t the next step.
First I have to gather those scattered pieces, and then try to fit them back together, rebuild from the ground up without a blueprint.
That probably means that this journal is going to have a lot of intensity, assuming I choose to put it here. If you want happy cheerful entries and warm fuzzies, this isn’t the place to find them. My life isn’t about warm fuzzies. I am not about warm fuzzies. I might ask for support on occasion, and I might push those who offer support far away from me. I don’t know what comes next, I can’t predict this sort of thing. I know I can’t do it completely alone, but I may not respond to offers of help. I don’t want help. I don’t want suggestions. I don’t want trite single lines of ‘you go girl’ and so on. It isn’t telling me over and over and over five times daily how you’re there for me if I need anything, so often that I feel pressured before speaking with you about the weather. To me, support isn’t about those things. It can be as simple as an occasional email, a phone call to talk about nothing in particular, a walk and a cup of tea in the cool of the evening.
This is me struggling to deal with the choices I’ve made.
This is me fighting the almost instinctive urge to sabotage myself.
This is me, changing, growing, learning, hurting, falling, flying.
Some things have to be done alone. Some conversations need never be spoken aloud. I can’t help you with your problems, and you can’t help me with mine. All I can ask is that someone, somewhere, keep me in your thoughts from time to time, talk with me instead of at me, and don’t lose faith that I can deal with my life. All I can offer is the same. I may not show that I am paying attention all the time, but I am.
This is me.